#bill Skarsgard blurbs

[thefallennightmare]

Vampire!Bill has an appetite only you can fill.

CW: vampirism, blood play, blood-sucking, biting, wound to reader's neck, mentions of being attacked, unprotected p in v intercourse.

Sorry if it sucks. This is my only second time writing vampire smut. But I do plan on writing more.

"Bill," you moaned, feeling the sharpness of his fangs drag through the blood pooling at your neck. "Please."

Your breaths were unsteady, nearly impossible for you to catch, as Bill's cock continued to slowly drag in and out of your tight cunt. His groans of ecstasy were drowned out by the sound of him licking up your blood.

He'd been on the prowl all evening long, looking for someone or something to feed upon since he had a strict rule that he would never feed from you. Bill couldn't control himself when he was around you, let alone when you would knick yourself accidentally with a razor while shaving or cutting yourself while cutting up a piece of fruit.

When you called him a while ago saying you were attacked on your walk home, he was in your apartment in a flash.

Literally.

His vampire speed allowed him to beat you home by mere seconds and when you walked through the door, his nostrils flared at the scent of your blood. One of your attackers cut your neck with their knife, not enough to kill but just deep enough that you bled. Thankfully, a car driving past spooked your attackers and they ran.

You weren't able to get two words out before Bill dragged you to your bed, his fangs so close to your wound, desperate for just a lick. Yet he refrained.

"I can't," he panted in the shell of your ear, cock now still inside of you. "I don't want to hurt you."

Your walls clenched around him, begging him to continue, while your hand gripped his chin so you could look into those dark blue depths.

"Just enough to heal me," you said with a smile. "If it gets to be too much, I'll stop you."

Those eyes held so much worry as they bounced between yours and then down to the blood seeping between the valley of your breast. His hips began slamming into you again, causing you to arch your back off of your bed, exposing your wound to him yet again. Shared groans of pleasure mixed together as the bed beneath you two creaked and scraped along the hardwood floors with every hard thrust. Your back arched in a futile effort to make him go deeper. 

With a snarl, his fangs sunk deep into your neck just as the base of your spine ignited with a blaze of heat, your orgasm flowing through you like a tidal wave. You could feel every pinch of Bill's fangs as he drank from you, every pull of your veins as he sucked.

It was euphoric bliss, better than any orgasm he'd given you. And now that you both had a taste of it, there would be no way either of you would be able to stop.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Beautifully Broken (Eric Draven x Reader)

Ever since you arrived to the rehab facility you were sent to, you can’t keep your eyes off of him… 900wk, Unprotected sex, choking, dirty talk 18+MDNI Part 2

A/N: I just saw this movie an hour ago and I am absolutely possessed. Bill skårsgard is the love of my life and this just did something to my brain. You’ll probably be seeing more of him…

Ever since you arrived here there’s only been one thing on your mind, one thing keeping you going and it was him. He was so beautifully broken that you were immediately taken by him, even if you’ve never spoken to him. But you watched. You watch the way he almost always chooses silence over speaking. He never shared at circle or sat with anyone during meal time. You watched his defiance to the guards and doctors. The way he rebelled against them with a stone expression and a locked jaw, still not saying a word. You watched the way he would draw, scribbling away in his sketchbook like it was the only thing in the world to him. The way his large tattooed hands would grip onto the charcoal pencils made your thighs clench and his face was so beautiful it made your heart ache.

His sea green eyes always held a look of determination, his plush pink lips were always slightly downturned and it made you want to know what he looked like when he smiled. His jet black mullet was always slightly messy and the pink sweatsuit sat taunt against his large frame, you’re surprised they even had a size long enough to accommodate his height. He was an irresistible mystery that you wanted to pick apart and piece back together with pieces of your own broken soul. So you couldn’t watch anymore, you couldn’t wander, you had to know. You square your shoulders and march forward with purposeful steps before plopping yourself down at the table next to him.

“Hi.” You give him a soft smile and tell him your name and he just stares at you, those striking eyes roaming your face intently. That ever neutral expression gave nothing away. His eyes lock with yours and you stare at each other like you’re trying to search each other’s minds. After a moment he releases you from his hypnotizing gaze to glance around the room before looking back at you.

“They don’t really like opposite genders sitting with each other.” He rests his hands on the table, tapping the metal of his rings against the cheap glazed wood.

“Yeah? Well I don’t really give a shit.” You tilt your head to the side, your eyes sparkling with mischief and your lips turned up in the most beautifully sinister smirk he’s ever seen.

“I’m Eric.” His corner of his lips raises slightly and it makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. You can’t help but wonder what his laugh sounds like.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eric.”

“Shhh, baby, you gotta be quiet for me.” Eric’s inked hand comes up to cover your mouth as he pounds into you deep and rough from behind. He has you pressed up against the wall in the back of the laundry room with your pink sweatpants pooled at your feet. Your back is arched as far as it can go, your hips meeting his own with each brutal thrust. His free hand is shoved up your sweatshirt, groping your braless tits and playing with your sensitive nipples. Eric leans down to place sloppy kisses on your neck and it has your pussy clenching around him. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm!” You moan into his palm, your drool starting to drip down his wrist. Eric moves his hand from your mouth so he can grip onto your throat instead and it has your eyes rolling back.

“I want to hear you say my name when you fall apart on my cock.” His voice is like honey when his lips ghost against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Touch yourself for me.”

“Fuck, oh my god, I’m so close.” You bring your hand between your legs and find your slick clit, the feeling of your fingertips against your sensitive bud sending you over the edge. “Fuck, Eric! I’m coming, I’m fucking coming.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl, fucking cum for me.” His grip on your throat tightens as he fucks into you mercilessly, chasing his own high. “I’m going to fill you up so deep it won’t be leaking out until we are in the yard for gym hour and you start doing jumping jacks.”

“Oh, fuuuuck. That’s- that’s so fucking hot, please please, give it to me. Give me your cum, Eric.” You reach behind you to yank on the hair at the nape of his neck and it has his hips stilling against yours while he spills inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” Eric growls in your ear as his cock continues to twitch inside you, filling you to the brim just like he promised. He pulls out gently, holding onto you with one arm so your legs don’t give out. He runs his fingers along your inner thighs and over your sensitive pussy, gathering the cum that leaked out before pushing it back in. “Wouldn’t want any to go to waste.”

He leans down and pulls up your pants and your panties before flipping you around so your back is against the wall. Eric chuckles before smiling down at you sweetly, those beautiful green eyes twinkling with adoration and it’s everything you could’ve ever dreamed. He’s so beautifully broken, and entirely yours.

Divider is by @thecutestgrotto

[twistedbloodstain]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[yup-thats-me]

BILL SKARSGÅRD

◇ thats my wife

↳ a man in the club thinks it a fun idea to harass you. What he didn't know was, your husband was right there to remind him his rightful place

[imaginesig]

I'd Have 2 Nickels

Nicholas Hoult x Actress!Reader

SMAU Blurb

There is not nearly enough of this man!! Anyway this is a short smau blurb in which the release of Nosferatu compliments Nick's wife's films release very nicely!!

Twitter--

ynhoult

liked by kiernanshipka, ellefanning, user83, and 829,929 others

ynhoult "Possession Among Polite Society" I love you! What a wild ride it's been and I'm so so grateful!! Please go see it, in theaters new years day 🍾

tagged: tomblyth, elliefanning, paps_movie,

tombyth what a movie!! I've never played opposite of such a brilliant and haunting actress!! You amazed and scared the shit out of me!!

ynhoult playing off your energy and character made the difference!! Thank you!!

elliefanning ugh I cannot wait to see the finished edit of that middle photo!!

ynhoult just know you killed it even before post!!

nicholashoult gorgeous! I love you 🤍🤍

ynhoult I love you too 🤍🤍

lilyrosedepp I cannot wait! Leading lady to leading lady you've done incurable work and I'm so excited to see it in full!!

ynhoult im crying 😭 I've heard excellent things in return!!

roberteggers_ I've got chills from you already!!

user1 ive watched the teaser they released a thousand times and my brain still refused to believe it is Yn in the first and last photo

user2 no fr the makeup and costume teams ate down

user3 main character energy to the max from that first pic

user4 she's so iconic

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nicholashoult

liked by ynhoult, lilyrosedepp, user92, and 928,203 others

nicholashoult "Nosferatu" has been wrapped up and sent away in its coffin!! Beware its arrival December 25th!

tagged: aarsontaylorjohnson, Nosferatu_movie

ynhoult thank you @/robberteggers_! Without you I wouldn't have a prosthetic vampire penis hung up in my home!! You are truly a hero!!

robberteggers_ I have a feeling I won't be invited to another dinner anytime soon...

ynhoult I love you baby!! You look phenomenal 🤍🤍

nicholashoult 🤍🤍

billskarsgard well that last slide looks familiar...

aarontaylorjohnson that caption? Someone thinks he's a comedian

nicholashoult can't blame a guy for trying

tomblyth I've heard amazing things!! Christmas cannot come quick enough!!

ellefanning my family are my second priority this holiday season

user1 ugh he looks so good!!

user2 foaming at the mouth

user3 yea I'm watching Nosferatu for the plot (Aaron Taylor Johnson, Bill Skarsgard, Nicholas Hoult, William Defo)

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Time Skip-- Premiers

Twitter--

nicholashoult

liked by ynhoult, robberteggers_, ellefanning, and 892,039 others

nicholashoult premiere hopping 🖤

tagged ynhoult, Nosferatu_movie, paps_movie

ynhoult well don't we clean up nice

nicholashoult that we do!

lilyrosedepp the only couple ever

elliefanning leave something for the rest of us!!

user1 I'm screaming they look so good!!

user2 great day or bi/pan people

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ynhoult

liked by elliefanning, tomblyth, user92, and 929,920 others

ynhoult Happy Hoult-idays

tagged: nicholashoult

nicholashoult forever and always 🤍

ynhourt gladly 🤍

tomblyth stunning couple

kiernanshipka love you guys!!

aarontaylorjohnson you're no better than him

ynhoult stay mad we're funnier than you

user1 I can't they're too cute

user2 I hope they do the yearly photo for a long long time

user3 one day we'll all be old and I WILL check Yn's account for her and Nick's Christmas polaroid

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[freedomfireflies]

So- my love!! Would you ever just write an Asher blurb- cause I miss him, v much! Of course Harry could or couldn’t be there just watching idk but I MISS MY TALL MANS SO BAD

LISTEN—😗 with all those new edits of Bill Skarsgard I’ve been seeing……..I could be convinced!!

Maybe Harry’s sitting there watching, telling them what to do, how to touch, where to kiss…but eventually Asher just gets really confident cause she’s so into it and he just takes over and Harry’s pissed but turned on and 😩 yeah mhm!!! I COULD BE CONVINCED

[ficthot]

me balancing fics where I'm getting spanked and called a dumb baby with fics where I'm tying men up to edge them mercilessly:

[ghost-proofbaby]

christmas tree (roman godfrey x reader)

pairing: roman godfrey x reader 

word count: 1,105

warnings: cursing, mentions/hints of childhood trauma/neglect, vague sexual innuendo at the end? (nothing too crazy)

request: “roman + christmas traditions” by anon :-) 

a/n: i just wanna say thank you to anyone who enjoyed my last lil blurb with merkel, you’re all too sweet!! this one was originally meant to be more angsty, but i was listening to christmas music while writing it, and well… it’s hard to be angsty while listening to fun jazz. once again, please enjoy and any feedback or requests are not only appreciated but encouraged!!!

---------------------------------------------------------

“I still think this is stupid.” 

You laugh at the umpteenth complaint of the hour from your boyfriend, Roman, as you continue to prick your fingers against the fake branches of the Christmas tree you two had set up in the living room. You’d been working at “fluffing” the tree the entire time while Roman sat on the couch, bitter and pouting like a toddler. 

“I asked you if you’d prefer a real one and you said-” 

“I’m not calling the fact that it’s fake stupid. I think the entire holiday is stupid,” Roman interrupts you as you finally give in and turn to face him. 

“Didn’t you celebrate Christmas as a child?” you muse, walking over to him as he continues to avoid your gaze. 

“Yes. That’s precisely the issue,” he fidgets as he says this, hands clasped uncomfortably in his lap, knuckles growing white. 

You suddenly realize that Roman isn’t just complaining to annoy you like you’d been assuming. His shoulders are tense, even his jokes had been unlike him, flat and delivered in monotone. 

“I know your mom isn’t the comforting type but…” you trail off, taking the seat beside him, “Did she really ruin Christmas for you?”

He doesn’t reply, grunting in return as his glare stays focused on the half done tree. The bottom half is spread out, and can almost pass for a real tree, but the top is still flattened from packaging. You watch Roman’s eyes travel upward, and his scowl only grows. 

“She just had all these ridiculous traditions, that weren’t even truly about the family, just for show most of the time,” he hesitantly explains, turning his head and meeting your eyes finally, “I’m convinced everything that has to do with ‘celebrating’ Christmas is purely selfish.” 

You smile sadly, shaking your head immediately, “No, no it doesn’t have to be, Rome. For your mom it might have been, but not for me,” you stand up, startling him in the slightest. He stares up at you, blank stare, as you reach out your hand, “Let me show you, yeah?” 

You’re shocked when he actually does take your hand, standing up and yet still looking incredibly lost. It hadn’t gone over your head that him opening up like that was out of character, that it probably had been fairly hard for him. In all the years you’d known Roman, he hated speaking of his mother. Finding out what exactly had earned that hate from him had been like pulling teeth, constantly balancing between considering that that had just been who Roman Godfrey was, full of hate and all, and the possibility that his mother had been the one full of hate. 

It hadn’t taken long to figure out it had been the latter. 

Roman follows you over the tree, watching carefully as you mutter out a ‘watch me’, showing him how to unfold the branches. You repeat the action on a second branch, before motioning for him to try. 

“You’re really trying to make me fall in love with a holiday through physical labor?” he complains, hands nonetheless making their way to another smushed branch and beginning to work on it. 

“Hush,” you scold before making your way over to the stereo in the living room. 

You turn it on to the holiday station, immediately hearing Roman groan across the room. 

“Did I mention I hate the music? I hate that shit,” he calls out over his shoulder. You stay frozen in place, however, paying his complaint no mind as he continues to fluff the tree. 

This was who Roman Godfrey was. Stubborn, grumpy, but especially malleable to those he loves. As he finished up the tree with ease, working at double the pace you had been, you can’t help but smile softly at him. His tongue pokes out between his lips in concentration as he reaches the tallest branches, stretching the slightest to guarantee their perfect. 

You knew if he didn’t want to at least try for you, he wouldn’t have. He would still be on the couch, maybe even a beer in hand to quench his bitterness. 

“Now what?” he questions, snapping you out of your daze as he turns to face you, backlit with a finished tree, barren and ready for decorations. 

“Now,” you motion to a box on the floor you’d pulled from your garage, “for the fun part; we decorate.” 

“Fun? That sounds like more physical labor.” 

You roll your eyes, smiling widely and picking up the box of ornaments and garlands to place it on the couch to be more accessible, “Do we want gold or silver garland?” 

Roman’s reply is immediate. “Gold. My mother always favored silver decorations so… definitely gold.” 

“Gold it is,” you nod, pulling out the shiny and gouache garland from the box, handing it to him to start to place on the tree. 

The two of you work quietly for a moment, allowing Christmas music and rustling of decorations fill the silence in the room instead. Roman only breaks it once you’ve started to put ornaments on the tree, looking particularly fondly at one from your childhood. 

“Are there any other traditions your family did that you’d want to… You know, do, I guess?” he’s not as confident as he usually is, coming off a bit shy in a sincere way. 

“Mostly all the sickeningly sweet family classics. Hot chocolate, movie marathons, those scented pinecones…” you pause to think of some more, but Roman interrupts you with sudden excitement. 

“I wouldn’t mind those pinecones. The ones that smell like cinnamon or fucking whatever, right?” 

You’re smiling wide enough that you can see Roman begin to fight his own grin, “Yeah, those.” 

“I always wanted those. We should get some,” he mumbles, focused on looping a hook onto an ornament, the ghost of the smile still evident on his face. 

“You know, we could always make our own traditions, too. They don’t all have to be passed down,” you say slyly, waiting until Roman looks back up at you, fully intrigued. 

“Whaddya mean?” 

“I mean, whipped cream isn’t just good on hot chocolate,” you play it off innocent, grabbing another shiny, red ball to hook on a branch, but Roman’s hand reaches out  and grabs your wrist firmly to stop you in your tracks. 

“Yeah? How would you know?” he’s got a devilish grin now, eyes trailing up and down your body before he licks his lips slowly. 

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you tease, starting to pull away your wrist. 

However, Roman’s grip only squeezes tighter as he pulls you against him, whispering, “That I would.”  

[hecohansen31]

Ohhh i love my Mark man so could you please write number 49 from the smut list with him?

WARNINGS: Mention of Stolen Panties, Male Masturbation, Slight Subby! Mark.

"I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer”.

You knew it wasn’t right for you to snoop in Mark’s room.

Although you had to admit that you hadn’t done it with any bad thought in your mind.

You had just been feeling cold, after you had come over to Mark’s house and he was asleep on the couch, having come back from a tough shift at work and fallen straight up asleep on the couch, meanwhile a movie ran in the back of the room.

Mark had insisted you tried to watch a movie, although you were sure that he’d be fast asleep a few minutes after it started.

You had thought of going in his room to simply grab a hoodie, meanwhile you let your lover sleep away his tiredness.

As you had taken an hoodie, a deep blue one with a cool logo on it, out of the drawers, you had been immediately comforted by Mark’s smell on it but also you had found something strangely lacey, hidden under it.

And it hadn’t taken you much more time to realize they were a pair of panties.

At first, you had thought the worst.

After your break-up with Mark and getting back together, you had discovered that he was much more than he let on, and he certainly wasn’t a player, although he looked every inch of it.

Hence your heart couldn’t help but break at the thought of somebody else’s panties being in his drawers, but you quickly calmed down and moved to touch with the fingertips of your right hand the panties, revealing much more to you as you suddenly you recognized them.

They were yours.

They were a pair you hadn’t worn much, mostly because they were lightly uncomfortable, so you tended to use them only on special occasion.

But for the rest of the time, they were left in the darkest side of your closet.

And now they were in Mark’s.

You and Mark lived separately, so he must have stolen them the last time he was over at your house.

But you didn’t really care in the slightest about how they had ended up there, but why.

You didn’t judge Mark, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a complete blank space when you thought about why Mark would steal a pair of your panties.

A few ideas did come to your mind, but they just didn’t match up with the idea of Mark you were slowly destroying.

“Babe” you heard from the dining room of Mark’s small apartment, signaling to you that your boyfriend was awake “… is everything alright?”.

“Yeah yeah” you mumbled, almost feeling like you had been caught, and half wanted to hide again the panties.

But hiding your feelings hadn’t helped you or Mark in any way, so you simply moved where the voice came from, after you had worn the hoodie and hid the panties in your hands behind your back.

When you met him back, Mark was on the couch, having moved in a comfortable seated position, as he stretched his legs in front of himself, looking up at you with a sincere look of tenderness, almost as an happy pup, once his human had come back for him.

“… something wrong?” he mumbled, his words slurred by sleep, and you wanted to do nothing more than to come closer to him and hug him, as you cuddled him back to sleep.

But you had a burning question in your literal and not hand.

“Yeah… ahem…” you tried to find the best words, and then thought about straight up taking off the band-aid in one move “… I am not angry with you, babe, but…I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer”.

And you exited the panties from behind your back, as Mark gasped loudly, before he turned his eyes down to his shoes, fidgeting with his hands, as he always did when he was nervous.

“… babe, there isn’t anything wrong, I am just…” you tried to calm him down “… I am just surprised”.

Mark seemed also extremely embarrassed and you thought about moving to sat down beside him to look less intimidating.

Mark might act all tough and cool, but he had a rather soft soul, that he felt comfortable enough to show you, stopping the entire ‘fuckboy’/’drunkard’ act, as he moved to enjoy the domestic joys of life with you.

“I just…” he was tomato red “… just missed you. I am sorry, I should have asked you…”:

“No, don’t worry, I don’t really wear them often… so…” you tried to ease him up, not letting any assumption appear in your voice, not wanting to make him feel at unease with you.

“It is a shame” muttered Mark, a glimpse of assholishness appearing in your eyes “… they make your ass looks great”.

You smirked at that, as you gently moved from his side onto his lap.

“Is that why you stole them?” your hands went through his short hair, as you ruffled them, before you grabbed them tightly, making Mark face you, that adorable blush appear on his face “…to remind you how good my ass looks in them”.

“… yes” he admitted tightly, as he gulped down a huge intake of saliva.

You came closer to him and dangled the panties in front of him.

“… did you jerk off with them, in your hands?” you continued on teasing him, feeling him falling down some hole and assuming a new persona, something he had never shown to you.

That you wanted to know more of.

“… did you got them dirty?”.

Now he was definitely shy.

But he got rock hard underneath you.

You didn’t know why this was also slowly getting to you.

Although if you had to give out a few ideas, it was probably for the vulnerability Mark was showing you.

“… c’mon, speak up, sweetie” you teased him, as he finally moved his eyes to yours “…I want to know what those panties were doing in your wardrobe”.

“What if I give you a replica?” although his tone was submissive, it had a strange taste of wickedness.

And you were won over.

“Oh, please do”.

[thefallennightmare]

Hi. Thanks to my Pinterest feed, I’m here with a whore on my shoulder Bill Skarsgard as Eric Draven thot. Please enjoy 🪽🐦‍⬛🔪

Pairings: Eric Draven(Bill's Version) x Fallen Angel.

18+CW(attempted murder, language, sorta rough shower smut with unprotected p in v, biting, little bit of knife play if you squint, choking, and degradation.)

The sound of the shower echoed as I quietly moved throughout the run down house, knife gripped tight in my hand. Large wings expanded from my back yet they made no noise as I crept closer towards the bathroom, my eyes landing on a broad tattooed back. 

My current target. 

Eric Draven washed away the soap that covered his pale skin and I froze, only for a moment, to watch the muscles in his back tense, almost making the tattoos ripple with movement. The soap ran down his spine over the swell of his ass, making me bite my lip. 

Focus. Drooling over his ass is not your mission! 

Ever so quietly, I slipped deeper into the bathroom, nearly going undetected by the man underneath the onslaught of water. It wasn’t until I raised my knife up in the air, ready to strike down on his spine, Eric turned swiftly towards me to drag me underneath the water with him. My gasp of shock was drowned out by water filling my mouth and when my body was pressed against the tiled wall, I gazed up to those bright eyes. 

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Eric smirks, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead. 

Since my wings were still spread, they were getting soaked but I made no move to bring them back into my skin, too transfixed by those eyes. 

“Fuck you,” I seethed when I realized what he said. “Do you have super hearing or something?” 

He shrugged while grabbing the knife from my hand, dragging the blade down the front of my shirt. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see what he would do. 

This wasn’t the first time we found ourselves in this predicament. I’d been sent to kill The Crow many times before but each time, Eric would catch me and end up tangled together. 

“Aren’t you tired of this game?” He questioned right before driving the knife through the material of my shirt, it falling to the shower floor. 

Next were my pants but thankfully he dropped the knife to the floor and helped me out of them. Soon I stood bare in front of Eric as I was ready to put away my wings, like I’d always done when we were intimate, but he halted me by running his fingers through the feathers. 

“Leave them.” 

I raised a brow while stepping farther under the spray with him, the water soaking both of us. It wasn’t hot, more like lukewarm, but what did I expect with the type of house he lived in. More run down than the rest. 

“You don’t like them when they’re out,” I reminded him as he continued to filter his fingers through the black and gold feathers. 

His mouth then brushed over the pulsepoint of my neck as he lapped up the droplets of water there. 

“I want to fuck you with your wings spread for me, angel.” 

I shivered at not only his touch but his nickname for me. The same one he uttered every time we were together. Those strong arms rested underneath my ass to life me up against the wall and my arms snaked behind his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. Our lips met in a fiery kiss, tongues dancing while fighting for dominance. One he quickly won. 

My moan was swallowed by Eric when I felt the head of his cock brush along my folds and I did what I could in his grasp to sink myself down onto his length. My legs were wrapped around his back while his fingers dug into the skin of my thighs to keep me up right against the wall. 

“Eric,” I panted when he dragged his cock up and down instead of sinking inside of me. 

His teeth dragged along my jawline, a hum spoken into my skin. “What do you want?” 

“Don’t make me beg,” I pleaded. 

It was already bad enough I failed yet another attempt to kill The Crow. I did not need to be begging for his cock out loud even though I desperately wanted it. 

“Say it, angel. Tell me what you want,” Eric said, slowly pressing the head of his cock inside of me. 

Not all the way, just the tip, and I clawed his shoulders in frustration. 

“Don't you want to be a good girl for me?” He questioned, giving me another half inch and wrapped a hand around my throat forcing me to look at him.

I could swim in those eyes filled with desire. Instead, I nodded feverishly, my skin igniting with his kisses along my jawline. 

“Then say it,” Eric demanded with a swift smack to my ass. "Stop acting like you're not a whore for this cock and beg for it."

“Please Eric, I need your cock,” I cried as another smack sounded in the empty space of the bathroom. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised with a kiss on my chin before sinking himself all the way inside of me. 

My wings smacked against the tile as Eric fucked up into me without letting up. The sound of skin against skin echoed around us, dragging us deeper into the depths of something forbidden. 

We were forbidden. 

“Once we're done here,” Eric snapped his hips against me, hitting that spot that made my eyes roll back. “We’re going to talk about you trying to kill me. Again.” 

I was so blissed out, my orgasm already cresting, that all I could do was nod before crashing my lips to his. 

[hoewkeyesblue]

IT will come back

✿ — request: “Pennywise x Reader where the reader sees him in his human form walking down the street getting drenched and she feels bad so she offers him her umbrella. The next day she finds a nice gift on her door in return” by anon

✿ — pairing: pennywise x reader

✿ — summary: the reader sees pennywise walking in his human form and getting drenched and offers him her umbrella.

✿ — word count: 600-ish

✿ — warnings: none

✿ — notes: this was requested a long time ago and i really struggled while writing but i loved the result after all. in this scenario, pennywise is still trying to recover from all the damage the losers did.

✿ — song: it will come back by hozier.

✿ — links: requests rules | masterlists | prompt lists

1959.

You sighed in frustration as you waded through the rain, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Thanks to the storm that was taking over Derry, you were dismissed early from your work as a librarian and now you could rest.

It was when you approached the canal.

It was when you saw him.

A tall, drenched man wearing weird clothes. He was walking fast, looking down and seeming to ignore the thick raindrops falling down his body.

Glancing him, unsure at first, you decided to approach.

You quickened your pace so you could get closer and then, awkwardly, you touched his arm; the man slowly turned to you and, when his eyes caught yours, you felt your legs tremble.

Not in fear, but something different.

Were his eyes... yellow?

No, no. Blue. They were blue.

“Uh... hey, I-”, you interrupted yourself. What did you wanna say, exactly? “Do you wanna use my umbrella?”, you finally completed and looked at him anxiously, biting your bottom lip as you waited for an answer.

The man’s face twisted into something you easily identified: confusion. He seemed genuinely confused and it just made you even more nervous.

“But then you’ll get wet”, he noted in a low but insanely intense voice. Your legs trembled again.

“No, no! We can share it. Are you going home?”, you smiled. He nodded.

“Yeah. Home.”

“Is your house that way?”, you pointed to the direction of were you lived and he nodded again. “Great! Let’s go, then. I won’t get wet and it will protect you from the rain”, you said in a joyful tone and didn’t see it when the man smiled.

You lifted your umbrella and he accepted your gesture, starting to walk by your side under it.

“So... what’s your name?”, you asked, interested.

“Bob Gray”, he answered quickly and glanced you. “Or Pennywise. What’s yours?”

“It’s Y/N”, you smiled, thinking about how different his name, Pennywise, was. “Where do you live? I never saw you in Derry.”

“I live everywhere, miss Y/N”, he said and you laughed like he said the funniest thing ever. He just smiled.

“Well, I live here”, you pointed to the house that now you were in front of. “You can keep the umbrella and give it to me later. I work in the library and, uh, you know where I live now.”

For some reason, you wanted to see him again.

Pennywise stared at you for about ten seconds and kept looking as you walked to your house; you, then, glanced him one last time before closing the door.

The rain stopped a few hours later.

***

In the next morning, when you were leaving for work, you opened the door and squeaked as you saw a big and red balloon.

Looking at it, you saw it was tied in your umbrella.

But... there was more than one.

There were at least five umbrellas on the floor. All of them were old, some of them broken, but you smiled.

Gift accepted.

You put all of them, except for one, inside. Then you grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note that said “with all those umbrellas, I’m starting to think you got wet on purpose last night”. With a tape, you stuck the paper on the umbrella and hung it on your door before going to work.

***

When you came back home, Pennywise had answered your note. His calligraphy was ugly, blurred, but you just smiled and put the note in your pocket.

You wanted to see him again.

“I don’t mind the rain, never did. Just enjoyed your company.

Thank you,

Pennywise”

[billhaders]

Bill Skarsgård at the IT: Chapter Two premiere (8/26/2019)

[eternalbill]

thunderstorm cuddles - the kid

note: so it’s been really rainy and dreary here the last couple of days, and before this boy’s surprise reappearance i was missing my baby. so here’s this soft cuddly little blurb c: 

As thunder boomed outside, the house clicked off around her, minus the battery-powered Christmas lights creating a soft light in her bedroom. 

“Fuck.” she muttered. The hum of the fan and her low-volume tv show were replaced with momentary silence, then she heard the howling wind. Wrapping her cardigan around her, she closed her laptop and got out of bed, walking towards the dark corner and lighting an autumn apple-scented candle. Another crash of thunder made her jump, clutching a hand to her chest. She turned around, padding towards the door. 

Before she had the chance to make it that far, he was already knocking and opening the door. A smile formed on her lips and she met him at the threshold. She grabbed one of his hands as he stepped into her room, closing the squeaky door behind him. With her other hand, she reached up and brushed some light-brown hair off his forehead.

“I’m glad you came to me instead of sitting in the dark by yourself,” she said lightheartedly. He returned her smile with a nod. “Make yourself comfy,” she motioned towards her bed, “the storm probably won’t let up for a while.” He sauntered over to her bed and gently sat down. He adjusted his position so he could lay down, his tall frame only slightly shorter than the length of her bed. Turning on her speaker, she connected her phone and started to play some soft music. His eyes watched her as she came towards him and placed the speaker on the bedside table. 

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, and he followed her eyes towards his bare feet. Without waiting for a response, she reached out and felt one. She looked at him with half-serious disappointment on her face. Crossing her room again she opened her sock drawer and pulled out a pair big enough for him. She threw the socks onto her bed next to him, and while he put them on, she removed her fuzzy cardigan and placed it on its hook.  

“You’re welcome to get under the blanket too,” she reminded him while walking over and picking up her laptop. She placed it on the floor under her bed, then got under the covers with him. He was laying flat on his back, but she curled up on her side and faced him. 

“See isn’t this much better?” he turned his head to look at her, and he just gave her a little smile. She reached over and intertwined their fingers, bringing his hand up to her lips, she gently kissed the back of it. 

“Did you want to cuddle?” she asked in between kisses. His cheeks turned pink as a sheepish smile formed on his lips and he nodded, opening his arm to make room for her. His innocence made her heart soar. She shuffled across the bed and curled up into his side, closing her eyes momentarily. The power being out was a bummer, but she couldn’t deny how peaceful she felt. Focusing on the music, he started to rub his thumb across her’s slowly. 

A bright flash of lightning outside caused her to open her eyes, clutching onto his shirt that she had balled into her fist.

“The brighter they are the louder they are,” she murmured, anticipating the loud crash of thunder that was gonna come next. As the thunder boomed loud enough to shake the house, she scooted closer to him, and his arms tightened around her. 

“You’re scared of storms?” he asked, looking down at her. 

“Yeah,” she laughed a little, “scary gory horror movies I’ve got no issue with, but put me in a thunderstorm and I’m a big baby,” she explained. He kissed the top of her head. 

“I have an idea,” he said, sitting up and getting out of bed. Slowly, he picked up the candle she lit and walked out into the hallway, turning towards his room. Staring at the ceiling, she twiddled her thumbs over the comforter, mind wandering as to what he was up to. She also couldn’t tell if the storm was getting worse, or if she was just imagining it since she was now alone. Turning to face the door, another bolt of lightning flashed outside the window behind her. 

He walked into her room again, still using the candle as his guide. While motioning for her to get up, he said, “grab your speaker.” she did, and as she stood in front of him he handed the candle to her. He collected her comforter and a couple of pillows, then pointed at the door. She walked down the hallway as he followed behind her, coming to a stop in front of his ajar door. He shuffled around her and pushed his door open, walking inside. Following him, she watched his lanky figure crouch down in front of his open closet, dropping her things next to him. In the darkness, she could tell the pillows and blanket had been removed from his bed as well. 

He placed her pillows in the bottom of the closet, then reached up and clicked on his string of battery-powered lights. Walking closer, she observed how he had threaded them through a couple of empty hangers, and it seemed to be working pretty well. He turned to look at her, then sat up against the corner of the cushioned space he built. As he motioned for her to come here, she placed the candle and speaker on the floor. She sat down and situated herself next to him amongst the pillows and he reached over her to grab the comforter. He made sure they were both covered by the comforter, and when he stopped moving she leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, I appreciate this a lot,” she said, smiling. “It’s harder to hear the storm in here right?” he asked. She closed her eyes and listened for a moment, then nodded. “That’s good,” he muttered before kissing the top of her head. He was warm next to her, and the cozy environment he created for them was incredibly comforting. 

“Do you want to play a board game or something to pass the time?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him. Nodding, he untangled himself from the blankets and got up again. He grabbed something off of his nightstand and as he turned around she saw he was holding a little red book. As he sat back down and settled himself, he handed the book to her. She ran her finger along the cover as she read it, “Prose & Poetry”. Before she started reading, she moved the blankets off of them. Turning her body, she moved so she was seated in his lap instead of on the floor. She wrapped the blankets back around them, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer so she was leaning on him. 

“Where did you even find this?” she asked, opening the book to the first poem. She had her family’s stuff strewn all over this old house.  

“In a box in the attic, there’s a lot of stuff up there,” he said, and her cheeks got hot at the thought of all her embarrassing old crap in the attic. She hid her face in the book slightly and started reading. He moved his arm, repositioning his hand to hold her head against him. 

“I can’t read like this dear,” she said with a giggle. With his other hand, he grabbed the poetry book from her and looked at the page. 

“I think it’s too dark in here anyways, you might hurt your eyes,” he muttered, putting the book down and holding her closer. She hummed along to the music and relaxed against him, the booms of thunder far from their cozy little sanctuary. 

[skarsgardclan]

roman godfrey likes to finger fuck you hard asf

Soooo true. Y’all would be chilling in bed or something and he’d look at you and think “I think I’d like to see her begging” and rest his hand on your thigh. You pay no mind to it, since Roman is always touching you in some way, but when his fingertips trace your skin toward that area between your legs, your heart rate begins to rise. 

You ignore him for a moment, because you know he’s always more generous when he’s had to work for it. He leans over, placing a pert kiss below your ear, which makes you shiver. He smirks and his fingers begin to rub softly over your panties.

“How’s that book, sweetheart?”, and just as you’re in the middle of telling him that you’re liking it so far, his thumb slips under your panties and presses against your clit before he begins to rubs tight circles against it. You gasp, half way through your sentence, and he stops. You whine in response and he only pats your thigh. “I have a game I want to play.” Your heart drops. Roman’s games are never fair. 

“Roman-” He interrupts your protest by tapping his index finger against your bottom lip. You know by now what that means, so you take it between your lips and suck gently. 

“Good girl,” He praises, making the butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster. “Now, I’ll give you what you want, but you’re going to read that book aloud to me. If you stop, I stop. Deal?” You nod lightly, his finger still on your tongue. He smirks and pulls you to sit between his legs, your back against his chest and the book resting in your hands. He begins to touch you again as you relax against his chest and enjoy the feeling of being cocooned by his warmth. He squeezes your thigh gently, reminding you to do your bit. 

You read calmly at first, sighing between words here and there, but he’s merciful and continues his movement. You start to feel that coil tighten in your tummy and it becomes harder and harder to keep your breathing even and your voice quiets. Roman nips at your earlobe after you moan softly, burrowing closer to him, the book shaking in your hands. 

“Come on, sweet thing. I know you aren’t about to disappoint me.” You bite your lip and focus as hard as you can on the words on the page, but Roman picks up the speed and this causes you to cry out, grabbing his arm wrapped around you. The book flops in your hand and his movements stop. “Oh no, what a shame. You were so close.” He sounds unfazed and you whine at him, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Please, Roman. I don’t like this game.” He smirks.

“You just don’t like to lose.” 

[mypersonalrambling]

I’m in the mood for Bill with a chubbier girl (bc I myself am not small) and he just wants to have his hands all over rubbing and touching on every inch of you while your face burns with an emotion you’re not super sure of. He’s feeling your thighs and running his massive hands on your boobs, he just can’t get enough of every inch of skin you have and that’s something I need in my life. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

LISTEN Bill would always be touching on you. He would have a hard time ever keeping his hands to himself.

But one night day he is all over you. You’re standing in front of the mirror after a shower, looking yourself up and down. You were trying to gain better self esteem but some days it was difficult.

However there was never a second when Bill didn’t let it be known how much he worshipped you. He came up behind you, running his hands over any part he could easily reach. You notice his hands stroking your thighs and breasts for moments longer than the rest of your body.

He was grabbing, pinching, massaging each breast. His enormous hands enveloping, always having the talent of making you feel small. He was mesmerized, almost in a trance, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his.

He stops to step back towards the bed, only to lightly push you until you’re lying on your back. Bill constantly has this power of making you feel as a love struck teen; sending tingles through you.

He never wanted you to feel any doubt of his feelings. He also never wanted you to feel insecure so he was trying to help you realize your beauty inside and out. A part of you wanted to say something but the look in his eyes stopped you.

Bill began placing kisses from your feet to head, giving compliments along the way. “Love these legs, they’re strong just like you baby.” He spend an inordinate amount of time touching, kissing, rubbing his cheeks against your thighs. There was nothing more than he wanted than to keep his face resting on them.

“This belly, soft and sweet. Perfect for laying my head on.” His hands wandered to your breasts squeezing with just enough pressure to feel pleasing. Taking a nipple between two fingers, rolling it through them. “And these breasts, perfect. Just the right size and shape,” taking a moment to take a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue, finally letting go with a pop, “So perfect, just like the rest of you.”

“These arms, great cuddling and holding onto people. These arms help my baby complete amazing things.”

When he finally reached your forehead he placed one soft kiss, “Underneath this is my Love’s magnificent mind. Always thinking of new ideas, caring for others, making her the best person I know.”

Tears began to stream down your cheeks. He was the sweetest, most genuine person you’ve ever known. He knew how to care for you or anyone without it feeling like a chore. He did it purely for making others happy.

Lost in your train of thought his breath between your thighs startled you. “Gonna, take care of my Princess.” His assault was slow, meticulous; the swift flick of his tongue against your clit causing goosebumps to form quickly.

When juices flowed freely, he teased your entrance with two fingers, collecting, before sucking them dry, “Could taste you all day Princess. Fuck, you’re so sweet.”

In no time at all he thrust two fingers in, curling them instantly, searching for that sweet spot. His lips were attached to your clit, sucking as if his life depended on it; using his tongue to draw circle eights. You were certain he knew your body better than you.

The moment his fingers touched the soft spot inside of you, you couldn’t help but to buck wanting more. Bill threw a leg over his shoulder, a hand placed on your hip to keep you in place. Your high was fast approaching, however he never slowed down. He licked you through your orgasm, barely giving a moments rest before starting again. “Billlll,” you whine trying to get up wanting to touch him.

“Nope, I told you Princess, I could taste you all day.” A smirk rested upon his face. And that’s exactly what he did.

[shenevertricks1831]

Ok, so this quarantine has me going insane, BUT I just got a laptop and I'm down to write some! Now I just need some inspiration..so feel free to send me some blurb/one shot/headcanon requests!

Some info for requests below..

I will write smut, but I will not write anything with urine, feces, or vomit. I wrote mommy kink once before, but at this time since I'm not that familiar with it I won't be writing anymore for now.

Here's who all I'll write for at this moment....Cody Fern characters (including Michael Langdon, Duncan Shepherd, Xavier Plympton, & Jim Mason) and I'm trying my hand at some Bill Skarsgard characters (including Roman Godfrey, Axel Cluney, Gordon Merkel, Mickey & Mark)