𝓢𝐅𝐖 𝓐𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝜗𝜚 billy russo !
r e q u e s t e d ♡
cws ᝰ .ᐟ gender neutral reader ,, sfw ,, lying / deceit ,, narcissism ,, references to intimacy ,, alcohol
𝓐 = affection (how do they show affection? how affectionate are they?)
not the kind of man who spills out sweet words, he shows love by having you, by making sure the world knows you belong somewhere, and that somewhere is him. he touches constantly, a hand on your lower back guiding you through a crowd, his thumb brushing your jaw when you talk, a palm at your thigh under the table. he’s generous, too. money, gifts, luxuries he frames as nothing but convenience. he likes knowing you’re draped in the things he’s chosen. jewels, clothes, cars, dinners that cost too much, billy’s brand of care is built from excess, from making sure you never have to want.
𝓑 = best friend (what are they like as a best friend? how would a friendship with them start?)
a handful in the most infuriatingly magnetic way. the type who never shuts up, always got something slick to say, always toeing that line between charming and unbearable. he teases you constantly, flirts for sport, makes jokes at your expense, and somehow gets away with things no one else could because that smirk of his makes it impossible to stay mad. friendship with him probably starts with banter, he pokes, you push back, and before you know it he’s showing up in your life like he’s always belonged there. the kind of friend who drags you into expensive places “just to look,” buys your drink before you can argue, and talks through movies even though he swears he’s paying attention.
𝓒 = cuddles (do they enjoy cuddling? what are they like during cuddles, and how long can they stand it?)
likes it way more than he’ll ever admit. he’ll act like it’s no big deal, like he’s just getting comfortable, but he’s always the one who pulls you in first. he likes having you close. it calms him down in a way he can’t put into words. he’s not fidgety or restless; he can stay there for hours if you let him. he’s protective about it too, if you move away he’ll make some dry comment and his arm will find its way around you again. if you’re within reach he has to be touching you somehow. it’s a need he doesn’t bother disguising once he’s got you close.
𝓓 = domestic (how do they handle chores, cooking, cleaning, and everyday living?)
makes domestic life look effortless, like he just happens to know how to do everything. cooking, cleaning, fixing things around the house, it’s all casual, almost second nature. he never makes a show of it but he’s always the one doing it before you can even think to ask. he likes the control it gives him. if he’s cooking, he’ll wave you off when you try to help, telling you to “sit, relax,” while he handles it. if something breaks, he’s already calling a guy. it’s not just about being capable, it’s about being needed. he likes knowing you rely on him for the small things. he builds himself into your routines piece by piece until you can’t tell where yours ends and his begins.
𝓔 = ending (if they had to break up, how would they handle it emotionally and practically?)
if billy had to break up with someone, he’d do it clean. no drawn-out explanations, no raised voice, no tears. just that calm, practiced tone that makes it feel like he’s done this a hundred times before (because he probably has). he’s noncommittal by nature; endings don’t rattle him. it’s just another door closing. he’d do it in person though. not out of respect, he wants to read your reaction, wants to know how much you’ll miss him. he won’t say much beyond “it’s not working” or “you deserve something else.” emotionally, he compartmentalizes fast. maybe there’s a flicker of something later when he sees your toothbrush still by the sink or a photo he forgot to delete, but he won’t let it show. practically? he’s efficient. your things get boxed up neatly, no drama. his place looks the same by the next day. he’ll move on fast because he refuses to sit in it. endings don’t undo him, they just confirm what he already believes: nothing lasts, and he’s better off not pretending it does.
𝓕 = family (do they want a family? kids?)
hell no, he’s not the “family man” type, not even close. the idea of having kids feels like a trap to him: too permanent, too heavy, too real. he’s selfish with his time, his space, his freedom, and especially with your attention. he’d hate the thought of having to share you with anyone, even your own kids. he’d get jealous, not in a joking way either, like, genuinely resentful that something else gets more of you than he does. he doesn’t want that kind of responsibility; he doesn’t want to be needed like that, it’s too much pressure. he’s the kind of man who thrives in the moment, not in the long-term picture. ironically, he’s great with kids when he has to be. not because he’s trying, he just treats them like people. he’ll talk to them the same way he talks to adults, which makes them like him more. next thing you know he’s arguing with a six-year-old about who’s stronger, or bribing them with twenty bucks to take his side in something stupid. he’ll never want kids, but damn if he doesn’t end up being the one they all run to anyway.
𝓖 = gentle (how soft are they physically and emotionally? how careful are they with people’s feelings?)
soft when it suits him. when he wants something from you, or when he’s reeling you back in after pushing too far, his voice drops, his touch gets light, his smile turns careful. he knows exactly how to make “gentle” feel like a luxury, like something he’s gifting you, but it’s not real softness; it’s control. he’s good at reading people, especially you, and he knows where the weak spots are. if he wants to hurt you, he’ll hit dead center without hesitation. he’ll say the one thing he knows will repeat in your head for weeks, because he’s that precise.
𝓗 = hugs (do they like hugs? how do they hug, and how often do they give them?)
gives hugs the way he gives everything else, instinctively, like it’s second nature. he’s not sentimental about them or the type to crave constant touch, but he knows how to do it right, something he’s learned looks and feels like comfort. he’s used to giving hugs that mean nothing, but when it’s you, they start to mean something anyway. he doesn’t really notice when that shift happens. if you’re upset, he won’t ask questions; he’ll just tug you in without saying a word until you breathe normally again. he’s not the type to need hugs, but he gets used to the way you do, and eventually he finds himself giving them just because he can.
𝓘 = i love you (how soon and how often do they say it? do they mean it seriously or casually?)
love isn’t something he says; it’s something he avoids, sidesteps, dodges with a joke or a kiss or a smirk that changes the subject before you even realize he’s done it. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it, he doesn’t trust it. to him, saying i love you is handing someone a loaded gun and hoping they won’t pull the trigger. he feels it early, much earlier than he’ll admit, but he doesn’t let it leave his chest. he tells himself it’s just habit, comfort, proximity, anything but that. it takes him months, sometimes years, and even then the first time it slips out, it’s accidental. probably late, maybe half-drunk. he won’t make eye contact; he’ll just say it into your skin like he hopes you won’t hear. the second he realizes you did hear, he tenses, regret flickering behind his eyes, because now it’s real, and real things scare him. he doesn’t say it often after that, either. he’ll say it only when he’s certain you won’t use it against him, when he’s drunk or tired or looking at you in a way that makes him feel too human. sometimes, when you say it first, he won’t say it back, just hums, kisses the side of your face, like yeah, i know. for him, i love you is never casual. it’s rare. it means he’s stopped running, at least for a moment.
𝓙 = jealousy (how easily do they get jealous? how do they act when jealous?)
not the type to get jealous easily, he knows he looks good, he knows he’s charming, and he knows that anyone would be lucky to have his attention. that ego carries him far… until something hits the wrong nerve. he’ll play it off at first, using sarcasm and dry remarks. “he’s funny, huh?” said with that too-smooth grin and a raised brow, like he’s daring you to say yes. he pretends it’s nothing, but his hands tighten a little when they’re on you, a little more possessive, a little hungrier. he won’t start fights or demand explanations; he’ll just start reminding you who you belong to in all the ways that don’t need words. expensive dinners, new jewelry, clothes he picks himself (“you’d look good in this for me”). he gets touchier too, fingers on your throat, his palm at your hip, his lips on yours. every gesture turns into a way of reestablishing territory. and god, when he’s jealous, he’s bitchy. not angry, not sulking, just snide, dismissive, the kind of attitude that makes you roll your eyes because you both know what it’s about. he’ll get sarcastic, dramatic, complain about anything and everything. he’ll make sure you feel it until you pull him close again and remind him he’s still the only one. he just doesn’t want to lose what’s finally his.
𝓚 = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss and be kissed?)
exactly what you’d expect, confident, practiced, and dangerously good. he’s had more than enough experience to know what he’s doing, and it shows. every kiss feels like he’s reading your reactions in real time and adjusting to get exactly what he wants from you. he’s not rushed about it either; he kisses like a man who knows he has all the time in the world and that you’ll give it to him. he likes control, so he always leads. a hand on your jaw, at the back of your neck, fingers in your hair; he guides the pace, the angle, the depth. his kisses are designed to leave you a little dazed after. he loves kissing your lips, obviously, that’s his favorite, where he can feel you melt under him, but he’s obsessed with your neck. he loves leaving marks there, making sure people see them and know you’re his. he’s smug about it, because of course he is. he’ll smirk when you notice them later in the mirror. he doesn’t really care where you kiss him as long as it’s genuine, but he’s got a soft spot for when you kiss his jaw or his cheek, unguarded spots that make him feel wanted rather than worshipped. not that he’ll ever admit it. for a second he forgets to keep up that perfect composure.
𝓛 = lying (how good are they at lying? do they lie to you, and how can you tell?)
come on, that’s his brand. he’s terrifyingly good at it, lying is second nature, practically muscle memory at this point. it’s not even a conscious thing anymore; it rolls off his tongue laced with that charm that makes you believe him. he’s built his entire life off of it, the perfect performance of sincerity and warmth, a smile that sells trust even as he’s holding the knife behind his back. he knows how to make people believe what he wants them to, and you’ll never catch him. girl, he had homeland security fooled. he’s too good at reading people, too fast at adapting, too calm under pressure. he could tell you the sky’s green and by the time he’s done explaining it, you’d be squinting at the clouds like maybe it was. that’s the danger of billy russo, he lies with steady eye contact and a voice that feels like truth. you start to question yourself before you ever question him. does he lie to you? sometimes. not always to hurt you, sometimes it’s to protect the image he wants you to have of him, or because he doesn’t want you to see what’s underneath all that polish. he compartmentalizes. keeps parts of himself walled off and calls it “protecting you,” when really it’s protecting him. if you ever think you’ve caught him in a lie, he’ll talk circles around it until you’re doubting your own memory, laughing softly, brushing it off with a hand on your jaw and a, “you really think i’d lie to you?”
𝓜 = mornings (what are they like when they wake up? slow, chirpy, groggy, or chaotic?)
mornings with him are slow, lazy, and warm. the kind that blur somewhere between half-asleep affection and the start of the day. he’s groggy when he first stirs, always reluctant to get up, and his first instinct is to pull you closer, bury his face in your neck, breathe you in like you’re the only thing worth waking up for. he’s not talkative yet, the morning almost always starts with touch, his hands roaming, his mouth finding your skin, the kind of half-conscious need that turns into a quickie before you’ve even opened your eyes. afterward, he slips back into routine mode. showers, skincare, coffee, breakfast. he’ll make breakfast for both of you sometimes, move around the kitchen in that smooth, unhurried way of his, shirt half-buttoned, wristwatch gleaming, coffee steaming on the counter.
𝓝 = nights (how do they spend their evenings with you? bedtime routines, night talks, night habits?)
he hates sleeping alone, so you’ll almost always end up in his bed no matter how the day went. the nights start with him winding down with a drink, jazz or old soul music in the background, city lights spilling through the window, his shirt half unbuttoned as he scrolls through emails or finishes a call he didn’t want to take. he’ll pull you against him on the couch while pretending to watch a movie, hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing circles against your skin. if it’s been a long day, he’s quiet, not withdrawn, just contained. sex happens everyday. afterward, he’s surprisingly gentle. he’ll clean up, get back into bed, maybe read something or go over tomorrow’s schedule while you’re curled up beside him. by the time the lights go out he’s warm and heavy beside you, always keeping his arms wrapped around you. he sleeps lightly.
𝓞 = openness (how much do they reveal about themselves? do they open up quickly or in pieces?)
tells you stories like he’s dropping breadcrumbs, just enough to keep you following, never enough to show you where they lead. openness, for him, is a strategy, not sincerity. he’ll share pieces of himself when it benefits him, something about his childhood, a detail about a scar, a confession that sounds sad but is perfectly timed to make you feel closer to him. he knows how to play vulnerability, every word shaped to make you trust him more, love him harder, forgive him faster. the real truth, his ugliest thoughts, his guilt, the cold machinery behind the charm, he’ll never give that away. not because he doesn’t want to, because he can’t. he’s spent too long curating himself into an image that works, that wins, so even when he loves you there’s always a part of him just out of reach. he’ll convince you he’s being honest, and maybe he even believes it in the moment, but billy russo only ever shows what he wants to be seen.
𝓟 = patience (how easily do they get irritated or upset? how do they show it?)
he’s got that unnerving kind of patience, he can sit through hours of bullshit with a smooth, unreadable face, smiling like he’s in control of every variable in the room (and usually, he is). it’s one of the things that makes him so good at what he does, he knows that losing his temper is losing leverage, and he doesn’t hand over control that easily. but irritation shows in the small fractures. his voice gets clipped, he stops joking, his movements go sharp, the way he shuts a door, adjusts his cufflinks, or exhales through his nose instead of speaking. if he’s dealing with someone he doesn’t respect he’ll toy with them, push buttons just to watch them crack first. it’s almost a game to him, turning his irritation into a weapon. with people he actually cares about, though, it’s different. he won’t lash out, but the air shifts. he goes cold. his words lose warmth, replaced by that commanding tone that doesn’t invite argument. “fine,” “whatever,” “we’ll talk later” — and mean none of it. still, it takes a lot to get him there. he’s learned how to bide his time, how to wait for the perfect moment to strike or let something pass entirely if it’s not worth the energy. once he’s genuinely pissed the patience evaporates. orders replace charm, control replaces composure, and everyone around him knows instantly that he’s done pretending.
𝓠 = quirks (unique habits, little oddities, or distinctive mannerisms that make them them?)
checks his reflection in anything, windows, silverware, car mirrors, not even out of vanity (though that’s part of it), but because he needs to know how he’s being seen as looking good at all times. weirdly neat about his surroundings but messy about his own comfort, will fold his suit jacket perfectly over a chair but leave his tie half undone for hours.
𝓡 = remembering (how well do they recall details about you? what’s their favorite memory of you?)
his memory works in flashes, he remembers the details that hit him. he won’t recall every text you sent or every fact exactly, but he can recall a very good amount. he cherishes the in-between moments just as much as the extravagant ones. like that time you both wanted burgers at 2 a.m., and half the diners were closed, so he drove across town just so you two could be “normal” for one night. he also remembers the luxurious nights, a fancy dinner, a trip, an event where everything went perfect.
𝓢 = security (how protective are they of you physically, emotionally, or socially?)
very protective. you’re his, and that fact alone rewires the way he moves through the world. his first instinct is always to assess, to calculate risk: where you’re standing, who’s looking, whether the person talking to you is worth letting live. he always takes the side closest to the door, always carries a weapon even at dinner, always has someone watching from a distance if he can’t. he doesn’t ask before putting security in place; he just does it. background checks, shadow detail, a car waiting at every exit, things you don’t notice until you realize you’re never really alone, making sure no one gets near what’s his unless he allows it. emotionally if someone hurts you, he doesn’t comfort first, he dismantles. he’ll tell you exactly why that person wasn’t worth your time, why trusting people is a mistake, why you should’ve listened to him. he frames it as care, but it’s also about tightening the circle, making sure your faith belongs to him alone.
𝓣 = trust (how easily do they trust others? do they test loyalty or just believe instantly?)
trust just isn’t in his vocabulary. it’s not something he ever gives. he’s learned that people always want something, money, status, favor, and he’s spent too long being the one who gives it to ever believe anyone could want him for free. so no, he doesn’t trust. not you, not his friends (if he even calls them that), not the mirror staring back at him some mornings. he plays the part, acts open, confident, even disarmingly sincere, but it’s all surface. underneath, everything’s calculation: what do they want, what can they take, how soon will they turn. he’s too smart, too paranoid, too scarred to ever hand anyone the blade willingly. even if you get close, really close, he still keeps one part locked away, the last unburned piece of himself. trust means vulnerability, and vulnerability gets you killed or used, so he keeps the upper hand. always.
𝓤 = unflattering habits (what are some bad habits, annoying traits, or pet peeves they have?)
impossibly aware of how he looks and wields it to his benefit, every look, every interaction, every casual lean is designed to get a reaction. he accidentally flirts with other people sometimes half because it’s instinct, half because he enjoys the chase, and you’ll spend an unhealthy amount of your relationship fending off other bitches attention. he lies effortlessly and he doesn’t feel guilt for it. his ego is colossal, he believes he’s the smartest, most charming, most desirable person in any room. the narcissism isn’t just surface-deep either, it colors how he interacts with everyone, including you, and sometimes it bleeds into the relationship in ways that are exhausting. sometimes you wonder if the person you love is real or just the version of him that exists to captivate you.
𝓥 = vanity (how concerned are they with their appearance, style, or image?)
image is everything. it’s not just how he looks, it’s who he is. he built his entire life, career, reputation on appearance, the suit, the smile, the handshake, the thousand-dollar watch that catches the light just right. he knows the effect he has, the impression of a well-cut jacket, the way people’s eyes linger when he walks into a room. he’s vain, mirror-obsessed, methodical, calculated. he wakes up early to shave, moisturize, style his hair just so. every detail is perfected. his scent is always expensive, the kind of smell that lingers on your pillow after he leaves. he’d rather die than be caught in something wrinkled. it’s deeper than just ego, it’s survival. the right image gets him in doors, earns him trust, keeps people underestimating what’s underneath. he knows how to shift it too, rugged and casual when he wants to seem approachable, tailored and untouchable when he wants power. when it comes to you he notices everything. if your hair’s out of place, he fixes it. if you wear something new, he comments before you can even ask.
𝓦 = weird (quirky behaviors or odd little things they do that make them unique?)
if someone asks him something he doesn’t actually know, he’ll invent a story on the spot, telling it with full confidence and insane, convincing detail, you almost believe him even when it’s obviously nonsense. he’ll add little touches, gestures, facial expressions, like he’s performing it just for you. and then there’s his bathroom routine — oh god, the routine. it’s like a full-on ritual: imported serums lined up perfectly, creams layered in a specific order, a mirror that lights just right, scented oils, warm towels, double cleanses, masks that take twenty minutes, lotions applied with exacting precision.
𝓧 = xtra (fun fact? something unique or specific about them)
effortless party-boy charm, the kind of guy who can down half a bottle and still act like he’s in control. has a really high liquor tolerance. alcohol is part of his day, a glass of whiskey after work, something stronger when he’s restless, champagne when he’s showing off. he tells himself it’s just to unwind, but the truth is he hates the stillness that comes when he’s sober too long. early on in your relationship he’s out a lot, expensive bars, private rooms, clubbing. but over time, it slows. you become his favorite distraction, his new way to come down. even then, there’s always a drink within reach, something amber and burning. when he’s drunk he’s looser, sloppier, easier to read. he’ll laugh more, touch you more, say things he’d normally hide.
𝓨 = youthfulness (how playful, spontaneous, or silly are they? do they keep a youthful energy?)
youthful energy that never really goes away, no matter how polished or put-together he tries to act. he loves to mess with people, push buttons, make jokes that walk the line between funny and infuriating. he’s spontaneous to his core. if he gets an idea, he’ll act on it, no overthinking, no hesitation. he’ll decide on a whim to take you out somewhere, drag you into something stupidly fun, or just stir up trouble for his own amusement. even when he’s being serious that youthful streak is always there in the way he smiles, the glint in his eyes when he’s getting away with something. he might not be a kid anymore, but he’ll always have that energy, that restless, cocky spark that makes him feel alive.
𝓩 = zzz (sleep patterns, how do they sleep, do they snore or toss and turn?)
sleeps like someone who’s made peace with every part of himself, which is ironic because he hasn’t. but somehow, when he’s out, it’s like all that tension just drains from him. he’s perfectly still, barely moves, doesn’t snore, doesn’t drool, just lies there like he was sculpted into the mattress. his breathing is even, slow, controlled, and he looks infuriatingly perfect while he does it. his hair falls just right, jaw unclenched, lashes resting against his cheekbones like something out of a dream. there’s this strange calm about him in sleep, no walls up, no mask, no performance, like all the weight he carries during the day slips off for a few hours. sometimes he’ll shift once or twice in the night, but never enough to wake you. if you’re beside him his arm automatically finds you. light sleeper.
started 10.27.2025. finished 11.10.2025.
( masterlist. )
©️ monicfever 2025
