#bill skarsgard fanfiction

[imaginesig]

Couple of the Year

SMAU Blurb (twitter and interview)

Bill Skarsgård x Wife!Reader

Yn Skarsgård had an interesting reaction to Bill’s Count Orlok transformation and the Nosferatu cast spills. For the sake of this 1) Yn is casted and a producer that’s why she’s in the interviews and 2) there are several mistakes in the interview portion, please forgive my dyslexia Canva makes it really hard for me to root out problems and then to fix and replace slides individually was too risky.

The idea was sent to me by @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Twitter

Interview—

Lily-Rose Depp, Nicholas Hoult, Willem Dafoe, and Emma Corrin

Robert Eggers

Aaron Taylor Johnson and Yn Skarsgård

Instagram--

ynskarsgård

liked by aarontaylorjohnson, lilyrosedepp, user2, and 892,920 others

ynskarsgård is now a good time to say he was also cute as Pennywise?

tagged: billskarsgård

lilyrosedepp speak your truth queen 📢📢

aarontaylorjohnson nothing surprises me from you anymore

emmacorrin couple goals

user1 oh that one twitter user is living the life rn

user2 HE COOKS FOR HER TOO???

user3 Bill the man you are

user4 the way he's hunch in the second photo 😭

user5 he's too tall 💀

load more

[humanrindswrites]

practice - ii

summary: as the days get closer and closer to a certain scene, y/n still isn't feeling as prepared as she could be

pairing: bill skarsgård x female reader

warnings: NSFW, mentions of masturbation (female), kissing, breastplay, dry humping, accidental orgasm (is that a thing? it is now), embarrassment, mild angst

word count: 2974 words

a/n: this part is a little later than i expected it to be, but i did say that i’m slow at writing smut. also i know that in real life there would be an intimacy coordinator to work through a scene, but this is fiction and therefore more exciting.

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

one | two | three | four | epilogue

Things had been going exceptionally well for Y/N. They were three weeks into the shoot, and any nerves she’d had about returning to a live-action film set after so long had been put at ease, thanks to the director and crew.

But most of all, thanks to Bill.

The two of them had become fast friends at the beginning of the shoot, but since that afternoon in Y/N’s trailer, they’d become just that little bit closer. In fact, they were almost joined at the hip; they ate all their meals together, spent downtime together, and even taught each other things that they could use in future performances - Y/N taught Bill voice techniques, and Bill taught her about stunts.

“I told you it would be love at first sight,” the director had teasingly said to Y/N after noticing how inseparable they were.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Y/N said, trying to hide the blush that had started to creep across her face.

“Uh-huh, just make sure to invite me to your wedding someday.”

Y/N had rolled her eyes at that, but she couldn’t deny that she was feeling a certain way about Bill. Small, friendly glances had turned into longing gazes so quickly that it felt like that was how they’d been looking at each other the whole time. 

What had surprised her the most was how comfortable he’d seemed to have gotten with her. When they’d first met, he was just as shy as she was, despite being used to being around new people all the time, and he kept some level of distance. But now he was fine with being closer to her, often brushing his fingers against hers while they read a script together, placing his hands on her shoulders or arms as he stood close behind her, or giving her hugs whenever they said goodnight.

No matter how much she tried to see him as just her co-star, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he looked at her when she talked, how he laughed at her stupid, dry jokes, and the way he said her name all made her want to melt. She couldn’t stop imagining his lips on hers, his arms around her, or his cock inside her. 

She wanted him so badly that it was clouding her thoughts and interrupting her sleep.

While she’d gotten comfortable with touching and being touched, and she constantly fantasised about him fucking her, she still didn’t feel completely ready for that scene, no matter how much she psyched herself up. She’d practised the motions alone in her room, with a toy in her cunt, her fingers on her clit, and Bill in her thoughts, but it wasn’t the same as having him there with her.

He’s going to see me naked was the only thought in her head, circling round and round until her mind became a vortex. 

He’s going to see me naked and hate what he sees and never want to touch me or have anything to do with me ever again. He could get any girl he wants, why would he want to be with a fucking loser like me?

There was only one way to deal with this problem: she needed some more practice with Bill.

Y/N couldn’t stop fidgeting as she stood on the steps to Bill’s trailer. She pulled at the cuffs of her hoodie and chewed the inside of her cheek as she bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to pluck up the courage to knock. Her heart pounded in her chest as each second passed, and she could hear the blood rushing to her face.

Come on, Y/N she told herself. You’ve known him for three weeks now, it’s not like he’s going to tell you to fuck off.

Her stomach turned when she thought about what she was about to ask him, but there was a scene at stake that she didn’t want to go badly, thanks to her inexperience.

She was just about to knock on the door when it opened, making her take a step back. Bill was just about to step out of the trailer when he saw Y/N.

“Oh, hey,” he said with a smile. “I was just about to go look for you.”

“Here I am,” Y/N said, trying her best to keep her nerves at bay. “Why were you going to look for me?”

“I know you’ve been a little nervous about the scene, and I wanted to know how you were feeling today.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet it hurts.

“I’m still not one hundred percent,” she said as she turned her eyes to her feet and pulled her sleeves over her hands. “Could we maybe... go over it?”

She felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth, worrying that he was going to say no.

“Sure,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. “Come on in.”

Her legs felt heavy as she forced them to move up the steps and into the trailer. She forced herself to breathe normally as she took in her surroundings.

Although it was the same as hers, Bill’s trailer was a lot more organised: a couple of empty water bottles sat on the coffee table alongside his copy of the script and an open pack of cigarettes, but she couldn’t see a lot of mess. Her trailer, on the other hand, frequently looked like a bomb had exploded in it.

“So, what exactly did you want to go over?” he asked when he closed the door behind them.

“The, uh,” she started to say, but her tongue felt like it was thick in her mouth. “The love scene.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘sex’, suddenly prudish, opting for a word she’d heard be used by older actors in the past.

“Okay, what part of it do you need help with?”

She noticed a blush spread across his cheekbones. Surely he couldn’t be as embarrassed as she was?

“It’s the movements. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You just do whatever feels natural, like you would do in real life.” Y/N looked at him blankly. “You have had real sex before, right?”

She shook her head. “I would’ve thought that me telling you I’ve never had a boyfriend would have given that away,” she said, wanting to pull her hoodie over her head and sink into the floor.

“Oh shit, of course. Sorry, Y/N, I should have remembered.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I go around telling people that I’m a virgin. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Hey, there’s nothing embarrassing about it,” he said as he took her hand in his and led her over to the sofa for them to sit next to each other. “You’re sharing your body with another person, it can be scary.”

“Can we talk about the scene now?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, right, the scene.” He picked up his script and flicked through to the scene in question.

Just looking at the directions made Y/N’s stomach turn; just kissing Bill was nerve-wracking enough, this was something completely different.

“Okay,” he said as he read through the script. “The beginning is easy enough. I’ll be on top, so you don’t need to do much.”

“And then? What about when I’m on top?”

She read through the directions again; not only did she need to writhe around on top of him, but she was about to have his hands on her breasts too. 

I picked the wrong day to wear my hair up, she thought as her face started to burn.

“We can work that out,” Bill said, placing his hand over hers to comfort her. “Do you trust me?”

She looked at their joined hands and thought about what was about to happen. Of course she trusted him. He made everything feel so easy, so natural. She’d worked with actors in the past who would have just left everything to chance and refused to rehearse with her, and here she was with someone who was willing to help her out. Who treated her as another human being and not just another step on the way to a paycheck.

“Yeah,” Y/N said, her voice small. “I trust you.”

“Good,” he said as he smiled softly at her, his eyes dilated slightly. “You’ll want to be sitting in my lap for this.”

Y/N gingerly let go of his hand and climbed onto his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs and her hands on his shoulders as she hovered over him. 

“Like this?” 

He placed his large palms on her hips, the feeling immediately travelling straight between her legs. She wanted nothing more than for him to slip his fingers lower and touch her clit over her thin yoga pants as it started to slowly throb.

“Have you ever ridden a horse before?” She nodded. “That’s the kind of motion you’re going to do.”

Haltingly, she lifted herself onto her knees and lowered herself back down again, testing out the motion. She’d done it before with one of her toys inside her, but that was something she’d done completely alone while thinking about him. There was no way she was ever going to own up to that.

“Is this okay?” she asked as she continued the motion, unable to properly focus with how his hands were holding onto her.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. That way’s better for show, but you could try another way.”

He gripped her hips a little tighter and pulled her to sit on his thigh, her pussy dangerously close to where she wanted to be the most. 

“Just move your hips forwards and backwards,” he said, guiding her by pulling her towards him.

She mimicked his movements, her swollen clit dragging against his thigh with each pass of her hips. She could feel herself getting wetter and bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, her eyes drifting closed as she continued to grind against him.

“That’s good,” she heard Bill say, his voice suddenly closer to her ear. “Just keep doing that.”

She gasped when she felt his lips on her neck, laying gentle kisses along her jaw before he made his way to her mouth. His lips were so soft against hers, caressing them as she whined into his mouth. She ran her tongue against his lips, taking the lead and plunging it into his mouth when he let her.

Her body was starting to get hot, the thick hoodie no longer seeming like a suitable outfit. His hands slowly drifted up from her hips, no longer guiding her but skimming across her stomach to dip under the band of her bralette.

“Can I touch you here?” he rasped against her mouth, waiting for her to give him permission.

“Yes,” she breathed before breaking the kiss to pull her hoodie and top over her head in one go. She opened her eyes as she tossed it onto the sofa beside her, taking notice of how Bill looked at her as she straddled him.

When she’d picked out her underwear that morning, comfort had been her only priority, but now she was glad that she’d picked the bralette. The grey fabric didn’t show much of her breasts, but just enough cleavage for him to notice.

She watched as his eyes dilated and travelled down to her breasts before he dipped his head to kiss the base of her throat, his hands dipping under the cotton to hold her breasts.

“Don’t stop,” she whined as she threaded her fingers in his hair.

Her eyes fluttered closed when he started to kiss her neck again, his hands gently squeezing her breasts and his thumbs stroking her nipples, making them harder and harder with each caress.

A small moan escaped her lips as she rocked her hips faster, her throbbing clit starting to tingle and burn with pleasure. She wished so badly that his cock was inside her, that he was touching her for real.

Even though they were just rehearsing for a scene, it felt real enough to her.

She pulled his head back to kiss her lips again, a short moan of his own escaping his mouth when they made contact, their tongues tangling together as he continued to fondle her chest, keeping his touches gentle.

She tried so hard to keep her coming orgasm at bay, clenching her pussy tight and digging her nails into his shoulders as he continued to kiss her, but it was futile.

Her orgasm crashed through her like a wave, her hips stuttering against his thigh and her breath escaping her lungs in gasps as her cunt clenched around nothing and her essence gushed out of her, soaking her panties. Lights flashed behind her eyes with each clench, and she eagerly kissed him back as the endorphins flooded her body. Her body shook in pleasure as it subsided, leaving her only with the hope that he didn’t know it was real.

Thankfully, Bill was none the wiser.

“If you do it like that, you’ll have no problem,” he said against her lips as he took his hands out of her bralette.

Y/N stilled to catch her breath and tried to ignore how her clit continued to throb as she looked at him, taking in his soft smile and gentle gaze. She could have dived back in to kiss him again if something else hadn’t caught her attention.

What the fuck is that? Y/N wondered as she felt something damp between her legs. She dragged her eyes away from Bill’s face to where she sat in his lap, and they slowly widened in horror once she realised what it was.

Oh, fuck she thought. I just came. On him.

She should have been able to talk to him about the scene, about anything else, but instead, alarm bells were blaring in her head. She shuffled back slightly to see if there was any ‘evidence’ on his clothes but, thankfully, he was clean.

She couldn't say the same about herself, though.

Although she couldn't see, she knew that there was an obvious wet patch over the crotch of her yoga pants, and that was only going to get more noticeable if she didn't climb out of his lap soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked her as he moved his hands back to her waist. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to go,” she choked out, her voice small and strained, as she jolted out of his lap, pulled her top and hoodie back on, and scurried to the door.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” 

She was just about to pull the door open when she felt his hand circle her wrist. Her heart slowed down in her chest, but it was still fast enough for her to notice. 

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “Try to breathe, okay?”

She took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus on his hand on hers as it slipped down to twine their fingers together. Her heart still hammered in her chest as she kept her eyes on the door, unable to look at any part of him.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly as he stroked her knuckles with his thumb. She shook her head, still refusing to look at him. “Was it me? Was it something I did?”

No, she thought. It was something I did.

She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, it was just way too embarrassing. He’d never want to have anything to do with her ever again, let alone work with her.

“I just panicked, that’s all,” she said, her voice small. 

Panicked because I just had the best orgasm of my life while grinding against you.

Gently, Bill tugged on her hand and pulled her into his chest, enveloping her in a warm embrace. She initially stiffened when her cheek bumped into him, but she let herself relax against him, her ear resting on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. The gentle beat soothed her frayed nerves, and she lifted her arms to wrap around him, trying to keep him as close to her as possible.

Her eyes drifted closed as she melted into his embrace, the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent filling her senses as he softly stroked her back. Even through the thick fabric of her hoodie, she could feel her skin tingle under his hands, and she wished he would just push his hands underneath like he’d done before.

“Feel better?” he asked her after an extended silence, his voice vibrating in her ear.

“A little,” she said, her voice still shaking. “Just first-time nerves, I guess.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed before bending down to softly kiss the top of her head.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open.

He’d never called her anything like that before, just her name.

Conflicting emotions whirled around in her head. Of course she wanted him to be like this with her, who wouldn’t? But there was the film at stake, she didn’t want to let her feelings for him cloud her mind and affect her performance.

This isn’t right, she said to herself. You came in here looking for help and ended up starting something bigger.

“I should go,” Y/N said again, begrudgingly wrenching herself free from his grasp.

“Y/N, wait,” she heard him say as she threw the door open and rushed back down the steps to her trailer.

She could only deal with her feelings the only way she knew how.

There was no way she’d be able to be alone with Bill again.

tags: @unlimitedlust @malenoradgn

[heylolita00]

[unlimitedlust]

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 3

(The gif above does not belong to me, all credits belong to its owner)

Summary:

They were childhood rivals who hadn’t spoken in years, until a wedding reunion throws them back into each other’s orbit. With tension simmering beneath every glance, one weekend turns into a series of unexpected moments, sharp words, and almosts that linger long after the party ends. But when fate keeps bringing them back together, the line between hate and something far more irresistible begins to blur.

Author’s note:

I’m grateful to everyone of you who have been supporting me along this story, I hope you like this next chapter 💖

Tags: @malenoradgn @muchwita @a-differentbrandof-beans

Disclaimers:

As the story progresses I’ll let you know if the chapters have any sensitive topics beforehand.

This story will have smut scenes in the future, but you’ll be warned!

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

If you enjoy this, please let me know if I should continue this, your feedback is precious for me 🫶🏻

End of Author’s note.

The shower was still running when Y/N entered the bedroom, the faint hiss of water against tile trailing through a thin trail of steam curled its way into the cooler air of the room from under the door.

She dropped her towel on the chair by her side of the bed and dug into her bag, pulling out clean clothes. Her skin was sticky with lake water and dried sunscreen, and all she wanted was to rinse the day off and get ready for their wine night.

The water finally stopped and seconds later he stepped out of the bathroom.

Eric stood there, half a foot into the room, dripping wet and shirtless, towel slung low around his hips. Drops of water clung to his skin, racing down the sharp lines of his chest and the tattoos decorating his skin, and lower, too low for her eyes to linger without consequence.

Which, unfortunately, they did, staying two seconds too long on the happy trail traveling low. And of course he caught her looking.

He didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his wet hair, the muscles in his arms flexing just slightly as he reached for his cologne on the dresser.

“Like what you see?” he asked, voice infuriatingly casual, as if she was just another fan in his personal audience.

She blinked, unimpressed. “This isn’t a whorehouse, you know. Put some clothes on before someone calls pest control.”

“Relax. If I knew you were this easy to scandalize, I’d have walked out dripping wet every day back in high school.”

She scoffed and turned her back, pretending to rummage through her bag. “I wouldn’t have noticed. I had better things to look at.”

“I doubt that.”

He left the room whistling, smug and shirtless, like a walking middle finger to her peace of mind.

She waited a beat or two to be sure until the hallway was quiet, then grabbed her towel and stepped into the bathroom.

Steam still clung to the mirror and the smell of his aftershave lingered in the air. She let the water run hotter than usual, hoping its hotness would soften the tension on her muscles. She hated that she could still feel - and smell - him everywhere, like he’d left fingerprints on her nerves just by existing.

When she finally finished her shower and stepped out into the bedroom, hair dripping and towel wrapped snug around her chest, she didn’t expect him to be lounging on the bed, black shirt on and gray sweats, flipping through his phone without a care in the world.

He looked up. His gaze didn’t drop, at least not obviously, but there was the flicker, the twitch of interest, that shift in posture that betrayed the second glance.

“Bitch stole my look”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes and held the towel tighter around herself, fearing it would suddenly betray her and fall down to make things even worse.

“No, you have got to be kidding, this isn’t a whorehouse, remember?” Eric had a winning grin on his face as he let his phone down and folded both arms behind his head, amused by how red her cheeks got in her own embarrassment.

She didn’t say another word and just decided to avoid his eyes as she quickly dug through her clothes before she locked herself in the bathroom again to change.

She threw on a blue sundress and panties she managed to fish from her bag and quickly left the bedroom, not standing to be in his presence any longer.

“Took you long enough!” Alex exclaimed as she poured them some wine. “Thought I’d have to start without you.”

“I needed to rinse off the lake,” Alex handed her a glass half-full. “And of course my dear roommate.” Y/N only realized the double meaning behind those words when they were already out of her lips.

“Ah, so we’re talking about that kind of shower.” Alex had pure mischief in her eyes but Y/N corrected immediately.

“Oh my God, no. And don’t start.” She rolled her eyes as she leaned her back on the counter behind her.

“So how is it going? I’m impressed, somehow you haven’t killed each other yet. That’s some progress.”

Y/N shook her head, staring into the window on her right. “You knew what you were doing when you stuck us in the same room.”

Alex grinned. “Of course I did. Someone’s gotta entertain me this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled to be your circus act.”

There was a beat of silence, just the hum of the fridge and muffled music from outside. Then Alex tilted her head.

“So?” she said, nudging her. “What’s really going on there?”

“Nothing.”

“I’ll be here when you decide to open about it,” Alex started, “but just know that kind of ‘nothing’ gets people pregnant.”

Y/N choked on her sip. “Jesus, Alex.”

“What? I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you? I wish you too got over this stupid feud and just fucked it off…”

She scoffed, but her throat was suddenly dry at her friend’s brutal honesty.

“I’m sorry to ruin your fun but just a couple of hours ago he made sure to let me know I’m not his type, so…”

Alex had a “I’ll pretend I’ll believe you” expression on her face.

Y/N turned to her and deadpanned. “If you’re about to say something poetic, I will throw this wine at your face.”

Alex giggle. “Fine. No poetry. Just facts. You two have history. And tension. And apparently no common sense.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Too late, you’re already doing it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you?”

“Because I always bring the drinks, the gossip, and the painfully accurate observations.”

Y/N sighed. Alex looped her arm through hers.

“Come on. Bonfire’s starting. I want front-row seats when someone says something scandalous.”

“Great,” Y/N muttered. “Because that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Sweetheart,” Alex said, pulling her toward the door, “what you need is to get laid or get over it. I’m rooting for the more entertaining one.”

Outside, the soft crackle of fire drifted in through the open back door, along with bursts of laughter and the low hum of conversation. The night was falling fast, the once violet sky turning to navy, with stars just starting to shine through the dark.

Her friend nudged her gently with her elbow.

“They’re starting the fire pit. Caroline brought marshmallows, and Matt mentioned truth or dare, so… prepare yourself.”

Y/N groaned softly into her wine glass.

“Come on. It’s tradition. Wine, fire, bad decisions.”

“You forgot ‘mild emotional trauma.’” Y/N snatched the bottle of wine as they made their way outside.

“That too.”

The fire cast long shadows across the lawn, flickering gold against faces flushed from wine and sun. Someone had dragged out a speaker, low music curling beneath the sound of crackling wood and clinking glasses. The scent of smoke mixed with toasted sugar as Caroline passed around sticks threaded with marshmallows.

Y/N settled onto one of the outdoor cushions beside Alex, tucking her knees in and wrapping her hands around her wine glass. Eric sat across the fire, bottle in hand, his legs stretched out like he owned the whole damn backyard. He hadn’t looked at her once, not since she stepped outside, but she felt him there all the same, lounging in her peripheral like a bruise she hadn’t meant to touch.

Matt raised his glass.

“Alright. Let’s do this. Truth or dare, house rules: No skipping your turn, no boring answers, if you lie, we get to roast you with facts. Fair?”

There was a scattered chorus of half-drunken agreements.

“I vote Matt goes first. He always starts chaos then pretends to be innocent.” Angelica, Matt’s girlfriend, threw him to the lions.

“Fine. Hit me.”

The game started and what seemed like tame questions at first, started to get wilder quickly. More bottles opened. Marshmallows burned. Someone added rum to the hot chocolate. The edges of conversation blurred.

The circle wasn’t safe anymore. Secrets hung in the smoke. People leaned in a little closer, grins turning sly, as the questions dug deeper.

The fire cracked, sending a spray of sparks into the dark as the bottle spun lazily between them. It pointed toward Eric.

“Alright, truth or dare, buddy? ” Matt said, grinning like he already had the perfect question.

“Truth”

“Who here seems the most boring in bed?”

A few people groaned at the cliché, but Eric didn’t hesitate. His gaze slid across the circle, not even pretending to think, before landing squarely on her.

“Y/N,” he said, too easily.

A chorus of playful gasps erupted. She blinked, wine glass halfway to her lips. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “What? Let the record show she called me a walking pest just because I’d just got out of the shower and had a towel on.”

He turned to the group like he was presenting evidence. “That’s some Victorian-level prude behavior.”

She scoffed, but there was no mistaking the heat that flared in her cheeks.

“Maybe I just have standards,” she fired back. “Not everyone gets a front-row seat.”

He smiled, slow and knowing before taking a sip of his own wine. “Didn’t say everyone.”

The group groaned again, half-laughing, half-sensing the current passing between them. But it settled quickly, the next person spinning the bottle, the game rolling on, until a couple of rounds later it came back to her.

“Y/N” Caroline chimed sweetly, and by the look in her eyes Y/N knew she was up to no good. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Give something you’re wearing to the person here you think would know the least what to do with you”

The group leaned in, all eyes on her, and for a moment she thanked God for the liquid courage doing wonders.

She stood up slowly, no blush, no hesitation. She took a long sip of her wine, then making straight eye contact with Eric, she reached under the hem of her dress.

Eric’s posture got immediately stiff and his tongue briefly swiped the inside of his cheek as he watched her slide her panties down her legs slowly. Not playfully, not shy, but confident as hell.

She heard a few gasps and someone’s laugh in disbelief.

She stepped out of her lacy panties and bunched the fabric in her hand, before walking across the circle with that same confident expression.

Y/N threw them in Eric’s lap like a dare wrapped in silk and spoke:

“Try not to lose those. You strike me as the type who wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway.”

Then she turned and walked back to her seat, settling down like nothing just happened.

Someone choked on their drink. Caroline’s jaw dropped and collective “whoa” rippled around the fire like a shockwave and Sasha, her friend sitting on her left side tilted her own glass towards Y/N for a toast, silently congratulating her.

Y/N shrugged, deceptively calm, even as her cheeks flushed a little deeper under the glow of the firelight. Her wine glass hovered near her lips, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

But Eric… He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. His jaw flexed once, and his eyes, those usually unreadable green eyes, were darker now. His fingers curled around the lace before he shoved them deep into his pocket, like that’d stop the storm brewing under his skin.

The game went on. The bottle spun, more truths and dares were thrown around, someone ran laps around the fire pit in their underwear, and someone gave a lap dance, none of it touched Y/N. Not really. Her mind was still stuck on him.

Eric hadn’t said a word since her dare. But every time she glanced his way, he was still watching her. Still quiet. Still dark-eyed.

By the time the fire was low and the wine was gone, the group started scattering. Some went to bed. A few lingered, cleaning up marshmallow sticks and tossing blankets over their shoulders.

Y/N stood up, brushing off her shorts. She didn’t expect him to follow. But he did.

She didn’t look at him as she stacked the last few wine glasses in the dishwasher, but she could feel him behind her, silent.

“What do you want?” She finally turned around to look at him.

“You surprise me,” he said finally.

Her shoulders tensed. “That a bad thing?”

“I just didn’t expect that move from a prude.”

And there it was.

Her eyes narrowed. “Prude?”

Eric shrugged, leaning against the counter. “You’ve got that whole ‘too good for the rest of us’ thing going on.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “So what, I’m supposed to be ashamed?”

He didn’t flinch. “Not at all. Just… didn’t think you had it in you.”

Y/N blinked, her smile flat. “You know what your problem is? You act like you’ve got me all figured out. Like you’re some expert on who I am just because I didn’t trip over myself to flirt with you in high school.”

He pushed off the counter. “I never needed you to flirt with me.”

“No? Then why are you always acting like some walking provocation?” She snapped.

“Because that’s the only way you ever fucking see me,” he said, quiet but in a serious tone. “Back then, now, you look right through me unless I’m giving you something to push against.”

She stared at him, lips parted.

“And you think that gets my attention?” she said. “By turning everything into a game? Making me feel like a joke in front of everyone?”

Eric’s jaw clenched. “Better to be a joke than invisible.”

“Why do you even care if I see you or don’t?”

They stood in silence, the air thick between them as they stared at each other. How could she not understand what he was implying?

Y/N’s stare was cold now, her arms folding across her chest like armor. “You know what? I think you like being the joke. It’s easier for you to play the part than risk being real for once.”

He didn’t bother replying to her, he’d already said too much and still she stomped on him once more. So he just turned and muttered, “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

A couple of hours later, the bedroom was too quiet.

Y/N had flipped her pillow over three times. Stared at the ceiling. Kicked off the blanket, pulled it back up. The fight kept looping in her head, his voice, the things he and she said, the way he walked off.

She thought she finally had what she wanted - Eric to stay away from her - until the sheets felt way too cold without him.

Finally, she got up, tugging on a hoodie and walking barefoot down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her weight. She told herself she just wanted water. Or maybe to turn off the porch light. But she didn’t head to the kitchen.

She stopped by the living room and there he was, slumped on the too-small couch, one arm crooked under his head, the other half-draped over his chest. His long legs dangled off the edge, one foot flat on the floor, the other twitching slightly as if his body was still restless, even in sleep.

He didn’t look peaceful. His jaw was tight even in sleep, one brow furrowed like whatever dream he was having wasn’t kind. The hoodie he’d pulled on earlier had slipped off one shoulder. His hand clenched around the fabric like he’d anchored himself to it.

She stepped forward slowly.

“Eric,” she whispered, but he didn’t wake up at first. “Eric.” She tried again, this time a little louder.

His eyes opened slowly, dizzy with sleep as he took in his surroundings and then her, crouched down beside him.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“You look ridiculous on this tiny couch.”

He blinked up at her, unimpressed, voice deep with sleep. “Thanks.”

“You’re gonna have a crick in your neck by morning.”

“Better than dealing with you kicking me in your sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened just enough to slide beneath his defenses. “You’re too tall for that couch, Eric.”

“And you’re too stubborn to say sorry.” She bit her bottom lip as his cutting words.

“I didn’t come to apologize.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

She got up and shifted on her feet, exhaling hard as she nudged his foot with hers. “Come back.”

He didn’t move.

“Seriously, come back.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked anywhere else that wasn’t him, her pride being thoroughly hurt by her current proposal.

“That’s your version of an apology?”

“Don’t push it, Draven.”

A long beat passed. His eyes traced over her face, like he was still deciding. Still not sure if she meant it or if this was just damage control.

But then he sighed and sat up slowly, his fingers rolling circles on his temples as he seemed to consider what he should do.

“Please.” She stretched her hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it, his body faster than his own train of thought.

When she held out her hand, it caught him off guard. Not because of the gesture itself, but because of what it meant coming from her. She never offered softness easily. Never reached for him unless she absolutely had to. And now she was standing there, in the quiet half-dark of a lake house, asking him to come back. No apology. No promises. Just her hand.

“You kick me once, and I’m going back to the couch.”

“No promises,” she said, already turning back toward the bedroom.

He followed her upstairs and down the hallway, their hands still joined, neither of them speaking. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was charged, brimming with everything they didn’t know how to say.

Back in the bedroom, she slid under the covers without looking at him. He hesitated for a moment, then laid down beside her, close but not touching.

The lights were off. The room was still. And just when she thought he’d fallen asleep, his voice cut through the dark.

“You keep surprising me.”

She smiled into her pillow, quiet and unbothered.

“Good.”

What felt like a few minutes had passed when she shifted, just slightly, and her thigh brushed his. But neither of them moved away.

And in the dark, with only the sound of their breathing between them, his hand found her waist, his touch soft as if testing the waters between them.

She turned to face him and he pressed on her lower back, pulling her closer as his eyes kept coming back to her beautiful lips.

She could feel his breath now, warm against her skin, the tension between them coiled tight. Maybe it was the quiet, or the darkness, or the way his fingers curled slightly at her spine like he needed more of her, but at that very moment she didn’t care anymore, all she could think about was how soft his lips must feel, so just this once she kissed him.

[crowsofdarkness]

I think this needs a part three.

Neighbors: Part Two

-gif/pictures not mine. credit to owner. I created the collage cover-

Parings: Bill Skarsgard x OFC! Rose

Word Count: 4,217

Content Warnings: language, angst, mentions of traumatic birth, mentions of dark thoughts.

Summary: Bill finally reads the letter Rose left him underneath his door all those months ago.

Authors Note: So this will be a three-parter! I'm not sure when the final part will be posted.

Read Part One first.

ROSE

Letting out a long yawn, I pulled the front door to my bookshop closed tight and tucked my jacket closer to my chest. It was Sunday evening, which meant I closed the shop at five but stayed back in my office for three hours to do office work since I’d been extremely behind the last few weeks. 

Hell, I’d been extremely behind with everything in my life the last few months. 

Quickly typing away a message to my across the hall neighbor Betty letting her know that I’ll be back home in less than five minutes; my bookstore was right around the block from my apartment and I always walked to and from. 

Betty: No worries, hun. We’re all good here.

Pocketing my phone, I adjusted my bag over my shoulder and turned the corner to see my apartment complex come into view. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot bubble bath, lounge on my couch with my favorite cop show, and fast asleep by eleven. But I knew that was a pipe dream. I hadn’t been able to have a night like that in months. 

Stepping through the lobby, I smiled at a few of my fellow neighbors who were at their mailboxes and was thankful no one was in the elevator with me, not having the energy for conversation. The second I stepped off the elevator once the doors opened, my eyes immediately landed on Betty, who was standing in front of my door. 

“Hey, everything alright?” I asked. 

Her pepper colored hair had fallen out of the bun she had it in earlier today and she hastily pushed away the lose strands with one hand while the other hand held onto Floki’s leash. 

“Oh, hi hon. She was a bit fussy tonight so I took her for some fresh air. I hope that’s alright.” 

Immediately I waved her off and set my bag on the floor so I could give some love to Floki. 

“More than alright, Betty. You don’t even have to ask,” I smiled at her before bending at the knees to smile at the sleeping form in the stroller. “Seems like fresh air always helps.”

Betty nodded with her own smile, slowly pushing the stroller back and forth. “She last had a bottle about twenty minutes ago before our walk. So you should be good for a few hours.”

I know I shouldn’t do this but I’d been gone for fifteen hours today and I missed the baby smell. I missed my daughter. Picking up Astrid, I held my seven week old daughter close to my chest, leaving kisses all over the top of her head. 

“Betty, I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve helped me so much the last few months. I wish I could repay you somehow,” I said the same words I always did when I picked up Astrid from her. 

“Now what did I say about those words?” My older neighbor pointed a finger at me. “I know first hand how hard it is to be a single mother. I had no help so I refuse to have someone as good as you go through it alone.”

“Was Floki a good boy today?” I motioned towards my cocker spaniel, who had been sitting quietly in front of my apartment door. 

“He was the absolute best boy,” Betty beamed while scratching Floki’s head. “I can’t believe you trained him to grab the diapers for you!” 

I did the best I could do shrug while still holding Astrid. “He’s a smart pup, what can I say?”

We chatted for a few more minutes and when Astrid began to fuss in my arms, Betty offered to hold her which I gladly allowed. 

“You can go home, you know? You’ve had a long day.” I said while unlocking my door, but not yet opening it. 

By now, Astid was wide awake playing with Betty’s necklace. “I don’t see my grandkids much since they live in California so I’m soaking up these moments even though I’m technically off the clock.” 

I giggled. “Well, I don’t need you tomorrow. I decided to close the bookshop. I need a day home to recoup.” 

“Very well deserved, Rose,” Betty hummed. “You’ve been working all day every day for the last month. Not to mention, being on your own for your entire pregnancy. I’m glad you took my help last month.”

“Which is why I’m so thankful for you, Betty,” I squeezed her arm. “You’re here all day watching Astrid for me so I can keep my business running.”

“It helps that your daughter is such an easy baby,” she said. 

Internally I had to snicker at that comment because for me, Astrid had been anything but easy. For the first few weeks, I did everything on my own. Stayed up all night nearly every night because all Astrid would do was cry. No matter how many times I fed, walked, or laid her in her swing, she was never happy unless she was held in my arms. Which made things hard for me, especially running my bookstore. I had it closed for an entire month, opening it a few weeks ago, so that’s why I spent the last couple of nights staying well past closing to catch up. 

“Did you ever talk to Astrid’s father?” Betty asked, wrapping the blanket tighter around Astrid. 

At the mention of him, I did my best to hide the distaste that was so close to appear on my face. I never told Betty who Astrid’s father was, only kept my answers simple when she asked. 

“Just a one time hookup. Wasn’t anything important.”

“I haven’t heard from him in almost a year,” I answered, flicking my eyes over towards the door next to mine. 

Apartment 4C. 

“Do you want me to stay and help you put Astrid to bed? I don’t mind,” Betty asked, changing the subject when she realized how uncomfortable I became at the mention of Astrid’s father. 

“You’ve been here long enough, Betty. Go home and rest,” I told her one more time, reassuring her Astrid and I would be fine tonight. “But do you mind holding her for me for a few more minutes so I can get Floki inside first? I don’t need him running off tonight.”

“Of course, hon.” 

I grabbed Floki’s leash and headed inside of my apartment. Once he was settled inside of my bedroom, I tossed my things onto my couch before walking towards the open door, hearing voices.

“Bill! It’s so good to see you!” 

Nearly stumbling over my feet, I felt my heart lurch in my throat when I came to a halt in my doorway, watching someone I thought I’d never see again.

“Oh, I can’t even begin to say how much I’ve missed your warm smile, Betty. How have you been?” Bill gave her a smile while stepping off the elevator. 

I still couldn’t move, couldn’t fucking breathe at seeing him again. He still looked breathtakingly gorgeous like he did that night. Some facial hair covered his face and I wanted nothing more than to feel it beneath my fingers. 

Focus! Don’t forget what he did to you!

A low scowl fell on my lips as Bill smiled at Astrid, who had woken up at the sound of voices. 

“Hi,” he cooed while wiggling a finger at her. “Is this your granddaughter, Betty?”

“No. This is Astrid, Rose’s daughter. She’s almost two months old.”

Just as my name sounded, I stepped through the threshold and Bill’s eyes landed on me, both of us frozen in time. Everything fell away as he continued to stare at me before slowly grazing his eyes over to Astrid then finally, back to me. It was as if he was thinking something over in his mind, over and over. As if a lightbulb went off in his head, Bill’s lips began to part just before Astrid began to cry which seemed to have broken me from my trance. 

“Uh,” I shook my head and gently took Astrid from Betty. “I should get her inside and get her a bottle.” 

“You sure you don’t want any help, hon?”

I quickly shook my head again at Betty, quietly bidding her a goodnight and watched as she stepped into her apartment across the hall. Still avoiding my tearful gaze at Bill, I pulled the stroller into my apartment and was about to shut the door when a strong hand halted my door from moving. 

“Rose?” Bill’s voice was quiet, eyes still darting between me and Astrid. “This is-.” 

“Please move. I need to shut my door,” I said with more conviction than I was feeling.

“Rose,” he tried again, his tall frame all encompassing around me. 

Astrid continued to fuss in my arms no matter how much I soothed her. 

“Leave, Bill. Now,” I said one more time. “I need to get her to bed.”

His eyes shone even though his lips were pulled down in a frown. “She’s mine?” 

I scoffed, slicing my eyes into him. “You’re joking, right? You’ve ignored me for nearly a fucking year and you have the audacity to assume she’s yours.”

As Bill started to speak, he removed his hand from my door and I took the opportunity to slam it in his face. Not before saying my final words. 

“Do what you have been doing the last year and ignore me; ignore us. Because frankly, we don’t need you. I didn’t need you my entire pregnancy, the entire birth, or the long sleepless nights. I’ve been raising Astrid by myself for the last two months. If you didn’t want to be part of her life, all you had to do was be up front and tell me. Instead, you ignored my letter and every time I knocked. You avoided me for a year because you couldn’t step up to be a father.”

“Please, Rose-.” 

“Goodbye, Bill.”

The last thing I saw before the door slammed in Bill’s face was the broken expression that crossed his soft features. 

ROSE

I awoke with a start, Astrid’s cries from her bassinet next to my bed making me rise up quickly. My room was still blanketed in darkness and the clock on my end table told me it was only two in the morning, meaning I only got an hour of sleep before Astrid woke me. 

I couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard I tried. Astrid went down pretty easily after a warm breath and bottle. Floki was quiet tonight, not barking at every little noise, which helped. He was currently laying on the pillow next to me, quietly whining. I scratched his ear, knowing how he didn’t like it when Astrid cried. 

All I thought about while trying to sleep was Bill. I’d been doing okay without him, finally starting to find a rhythm that worked for me and Astrid. Then all of a sudden, he decided to show his face. I wasn’t about to let him in Astrid's life even if he was her father. He ignored both of us, and avoided seeing me in the complex when he was here. I knew he’d been off filming throughout the last year due to what other people in the complex told me. But for him to have read the letter I slipped underneath his door and ignored it cut me so incredibly deep. 

That night in the laundry room, both of us were stupid. Having sex without protection but I truly thought we’d be fine since I was on birth control. When I brought it up to my doctor at my first appointment, she told me that since I was on antibiotics at the time, that tends to cancel out my birth control. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” I soothed Astrid. “Momma’s here.” 

Everything was not alright. 

It was almost four in the morning and Astrid had not stopped crying for the last hour no matter what I did. I fed her, changed her, rocked her, and put her in her swing. None of it worked. Hell, I even gave her a few more ounces of formula thinking she must have still been hungry but that didn’t work. So now, I was walking the length of my apartment while holding Astrid close to my chest as sang a soft tune to her. All of the lights were off in my apartment, albeit the one above the stove in my kitchen. Floki was following my steps, gazing those eyes up at me, and his soft whines filled the apartment. It was a big adjustment for him when I brought Astrid home but he warmed up to her almost immediately. He protected her and always watched as Astrid slept. 

“She’s okay,” I assured my cocker spaniel. “She’s just tired.”

Astrid continued to cry, her screams piercing my ears, and guilt ate away at me knowing how thin the walls of the apartment were. I didn’t doubt we were keeping our neighbors up and after the long day Betty already had, I didn’t need her to come over to see if I needed help. Even though I would gladly accept her help since I was seconds away from screaming myself and sitting in the middle of my bed to dissociate, I couldn’t bother her. 

“Please,” I begged Astrid as I started another lap in my living room. “Can we try and sleep? Momma is so tired, I just need a few hours.”

My entire life was a mess, along with my living room that had dirty spit up rags and laundry scattered on the couch which was clean thankfully. There was a pile of dried up formula on the floor in my kitchen because earlier I had dropped the bottle I was making but couldn’t clean it up right away. My garbage was piling up, not having the time tonight to throw it out. Betty offered to clean up my apartment while she watched Astrid but I very quickly shot her down. She does enough for me, I couldn’t ask her to clean my mess. 

I was covered in spit up and it felt like needles were continuously stabbing my brain every time she cried and I couldn’t take it any longer. I knew it wasn’t her fault, Atrid was a baby. She couldn’t tell me what was wrong. It was up to me and my instincts to figure it out. But all these weeks later and it was clear my instincts were shit. 

My feet came to a halt in the middle of my living room, my mind becoming almost a frozen state while Astrid continued to cry and Floki nails clicked against the hardwood floor as he paced circles around me. Everything was becoming too much, I felt myself becoming overstimulated and I was honestly afraid of what would happen if she didn’t stop.

I would never hurt Astrid. I would rather do something to myself before ever laying a finger on her. 

Suddenly a tender knock tapped against the wood of my door, breaking my trance from the blue of Astrid’s eyes, filled with tears. My own tears were threatening to spill as I ran a shaky hand through my copper hair, mentally preparing myself for whoever was on the other side of the door at four a.m. It couldn’t be a good thing. The last time someone knocked at my door this early, it was someone from the floor below to complain to keep it down since some people in the apartment worked early. 

As if I weren’t opening up my book store every day at eight a.m. every day. 

The knock sounded again breaking me fully from my trance so with tentative steps, I walked over to the door; Astrid was still crying and now Floki was barking which only added more to my already over-stimulated mind. I was seconds away from yelling out my frustrations. All I needed was one more thing to push me over the edge. 

And when I saw who was on the other side of my door through the peephole, I let out a scream. 

“Go away, Bill! 

“Rose, please,” his voice sounded through the door. “I just want to help. I can hear her crying.” 

Scoffing, I practically ripped open the door, blocking Floki from running out with my foot. Bill stood in front of me wearing a pair of sweats and a black shirt that clung to all of his muscles. The flannel he wore over the shirt was unbuttoned and his broad arms were crossed over his chest as those eyes pierced me in place; they were filled with so much sadness, it almost made me feel sorry for him. 

Almost. 

“Now you want to help?” I questioned while adjusting Astrid. “Where the fuck were you a year ago? Or two months ago when I almost died during her birth?! The recovery? I did it all myself, the first few weeks were so fucking hard. I was supposed to be resting but I didn’t get that chance! If it wasn’t for Betty, I don’t know how much longer I could have done it on my own.” 

“I didn’t know,” Bill shook his head. “I just got back. I found that note you left me when I got home earlier tonight. I swear.” 

I didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, my still crying daughter, or Floki trying to jump up at Bill, but his words were the final straw in how the last few months have been. 

Hell, the last year has been. 

Tears fell from my eyes and snot gathered at my nose but I didn’t have a free hand to wipe my face. 

“So what? You dip out for a fucking year after you fucked me in the laundry room? Was it that bad you avoided me?” 

“Rose,” Bill sighed. 

“You can’t disappear for a year and expect me to allow you in our lives,” I sniffled, gently trying to soothe Astrid, who seemed to have calmed down a bit. 

Maybe she was finally getting tired. 

“I didn’t know, Rose!” He repeated while running a hand over his face. “I spent four months filming and then the rest of the time I was in Sweden with my family. I got back earlier tonight and that’s when I read your note with the sonogram.” 

I studied his eyes for a moment as they filled with tears and gnawed on the inside of my cheek. As if he could tell I was still hesitant with him, Bill spoke again. 

“If I would have known before, I would not have left you to do this alone,” he swore, taking a very cautious step towards me. 

“I thought you were on the pill.” 

I gave a curt nod. “I was but I also was on antibiotics since I was sick then, those two seem to cancel each other out.”

Silence filled the air for a beat until Bill motioned behind me. “Can I please come in so we can talk?” 

“Bill,” I sighed. “I’ve only had one hour of sleep and I’m tired. The last thing I want to do is to have a screaming match with you while she just fell asleep.” 

By now, she seemed to have fallen asleep in my arms and I let out a long breath of relief. It was practically visible that the weight of the last few hours had lifted from my shoulders. 

Floki was trying to maneuver his way from around my leg to get out, most likely wanting to go use the bathroom since it has been a few hours since he was last out. Guilt ate away at me knowing that I couldn’t take him out until Astrid woke up later and we could go for our morning walk. 

Bill must have noticed my dilemma so he motioned towards Floki. “I can take him for a walk while you put Astrid down.”

My lips parted but with the pleading look in his eyes, I paused. It was evident he wanted to help. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed it. 

“Uh,” I nodded towards the hook next to the front door of my apartment. “His harness is right there. It usually takes him walking for five minutes before he goes.”

A small smile pulled at Bill’s lips. “I’ll make sure to take my time so you can have a few moments of peace to yourself.” 

With a nod, I stepped to the side to let him inside of my apartment, not bothering to stare at those ocean blue eyes any longer. I knew if I did, the walls that I built up to protect Astrid and I would come crumbling down. Giving him my back, I walked into my bedroom and locked the door behind me. 

Thankfully when I transferred Astrid into her bassinet next to my bed, she stayed asleep so I decided to take a long, hot shower in the bathroom that was connected to my room. I heard the front door open about twenty minutes ago to close a few moments after. Once I was out of the shower dressed in an oversized shirt and shorts, I checked on Astrid to make sure she was still asleep. I decided on grabbing a snack before climbing into bed to sleep. 

Not to mention, I probably should check on Floki to make sure he was fine after his walk. 

Quietly shutting the bedroom door behind me, I took all of two steps into my living room when I came to a halt. My entire apartment was spotless, even the floors were freshly mopped. The clean smell filling my nostrils. The pile of clean clothes were folded neatly on my couch and there was a basket of dirty clothes in a basket set next to my front door, ready to get taken to the laundry room. Floki was curled up in his bed in front of the electric fireplace, sleeping soundly. It seemed as if the walk Bill took him on tired him out. 

I walked into the kitchen to see Bill putting a fresh bag into the garbage and let out a quiet gasp when I noticed how spotless my kitchen was as well. 

“Hey, I thought you’d be asleep,” he said while looking over at me. 

“I decided to take a shower before. Did you clean my apartment?” I asked while pointing to the space around me. 

He scratched at the side of his head, all nervous. “Yeah, I hope that was alright. I meant it when I said I wanted to help you, Rose.”

I shifted on my feet as the feeling of relief filled my veins. I wanted to be angry with him but the more I thought about it while I was in the shower, I knew that I couldn’t hold it against him that he didn’t know. Bill was gone this last year working and visiting his family in Sweden. 

What’s stopping him from doing that again? Leaving you and Astrid alone, again?

As much as I wanted to ignore the voice in my mind, I couldn’t. There wasn’t a doubt that Bill would be leaving again, maybe soon, and would be gone for weeks at a time. He would be in and out of Astrid’s life when she needed stability. 

“Thank you,” I said. “You didn’t have to.”

Bill stuffed his hand in the pockets of his sweats and nodded. “I’m here for you, Rose. For both of you.”

The burn began to rise in my throat when I heard the sincerity in his voice and there were tears in the corner of my eyes. That familiar heavy weight of guilt was deep in my gut and I couldn’t take another moment of looking at Bill knowing that I wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted. I needed to think of my daughter. 

Astrid is his daughter, too. 

Blinking away the tears, I threw a thumb over my shoulder towards my bedroom. “I-uh-I’m going to get some sleep before Astrid wakes up. Even if it’s a few hours. Can you lock the door behind you when you leave, please?” 

I could tell he wanted to say something but refrained. Instead, he went a different route. Pulling something from his pocket, Bill handed me a small piece of paper which I took hesitantly. 

“It’s my phone number. I really want to try, Rose. As long as you’d let me. I want to be in Astrid’s life.”

I stared down at the paper in my hand for a very long moment before gazing up at him through my lashes. 

“Thank you again for taking Floki for a walk and cleaning my apartment. I appreciate it,” my voice was quiet as I turned on my heels to head into my room. 

Bill called after me, his voice begging me to stop. “Rose, please. Can you at least let me try?” 

Looking over my shoulder, I let out a shaky breath while shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t know, Bill.”

Telling him once more to lock the door on his way out, I slipped inside my bedroom, shutting the door and him out of my life. 

[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[klipkillakai]

is this a safe space?

the crow 2024

[bloodibambiidoll]

Pussy Liquor (Eric Draven x Stripper!Reader)

Summary: It’s a slow, boring night at the club until he walks through the door.

Warnings: Eric is implied to have a lot of money(he’s in the music industry), unprotected public sex, lust at first sight, choking 18+MDNI

✰ I think this one has been a long time coming for me. I’ve never written stripper!reader but I was a stripper for several years so this is v personal to me. The songs reader dances to used to be my favorite set. thank u for always encouraging me pookie @babygorewhore ✰

It was a dreary, slow night. There were bodies in the club but no money to go along with them. A few dudes you can tell just turned 21 and are here for the experience, they’ll definitely spend the entire evening at the same table drinking cheap beer while they whistle at the dancers with their wallets closed. A few of the girls regulars are here, either in the back or cozied up at a table. If you were lucky they’d ask you to come sit with them and at the very least buy you drinks but you didn’t feel like entertaining someone for nothing more than a few ones and some shots. There was a couple in the corner arguing and a few older men with their eyes practically glued to the slot machines. Classic.

But there was one individual that caught your eye. He wasn’t someone you would usually see in a place like this. He was more like a pretty face you saw on the street and thought about for the rest of the week. He’s tucked away in a back corner booth drinking what looks like shots of crown royal, the whole bottle, always a good sign. He’s approached the stage and tipped each girl generously but hasn’t stayed for a set. You’ve noticed a few girls go offer him dances but he declines, offering them a tip anyway. You couldn’t blame them for trying. He was gorgeous. He’s extremely tall, still towering over even the tallest dancers in their heels. His toned arms are covered in tattoos and the white tee he’s wearing sits taunt against his chest. His distressed black jeans are tucked into beat up leather boots and his face is otherworldly. Those bright green eyes shine in the flashing lights of the club, the way they dance around his face accentuating different parts of his statuesque bone structure. He has full lips and a perfect pointed nose and you’ve never wanted to ride a customer right in the middle of the club until right now. You haven’t felt nervous to go on stage since you were just starting out dancing but the way his viridescent eyes raked over your body as you climbed the stairs to the stage had your heart pounding.

Your first song starts to play and you grab onto the pole lightly as you prance around it to the beat. You press the tip of your healed boot against the bottom of the pole and spin your body around it with your other leg pointed before pressing your back against it. You nearly trip when you see the man you’ve been fantasizing about all night sitting at your stage with a $20 bill sitting on the bar. You regain your composure, smiling at him sweetly as you slide down the pole onto your knees so you can crawl to him. The sound of Rob Zombie’s “Pussy Liquor” thrums through your body, making you feel like a succubus. You stop on your knees in front of the top bar, never breaking eye contact with him as you pluck it with your manicured fingers and stuff it into the band of your black bikini top.

“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you.” You press your tits together as you lean over and stick your ass out behind you. “I’m Bunny, what’s your name?”

“Well, that’s kind of forward, isn’t it?” His voice is much softer than you expected as he returns your smile with one of his own, it’s not condescending though, it’s almost playful. “I’m Eric.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. You can just watch me dance.” You wink at him before leaning back on your knees and pulling the string on your top so it falls down your body, your tits spilling free. Eric’s eyes sparkle and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks up at you like he hasn’t seen multiple pairs of boobs just within the last hour.

You pull the bottom string free and then toss it to the side as you push yourself up on your 8 inch heels. You sway toward the pole, running your fingers through your hair as you purposefully wiggle the fat of your ass. You grab onto the metal and roll your body before swinging your foot around it so you can climb up. You lock your legs together and lean backward, suspending yourself in the air. You watch as Eric pulls out a roll of cash and throws a huge stack of ones followed by several twenty’s. You grab onto your tits and jiggle them for him before titling yourself back up to grab onto the pole. You timed it perfectly so when the beat dropped so did you, right from the top onto the ground in the splits. Eric claps, which you find absolutely adorable because who the fuck claps in a strip club? And then he throws a literal hundred dollar bill onto your stage right as your first song ends. You tease him all through the next song, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails and when you’re leaning over to press your tits into his face he gives you this dopey smile and tells you that he loves the songs you choose. After your set is done you offer him a dance, and he insists on a private room.

You pull the thick red curtain back so you can lead him into the sectioned off area of the club. There’s walls on all three sides and an open face that’s completely blocked by curtains. You can’t help but giggle at the way he stands there awkwardly surveying the room. You can tell he’s never done this before.

“This your first time?” You grab onto a piece of your hair and twirl it, looking up at him through your lashes. He’s even taller than you thought he was and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs when how easily he could toss you around crosses your mind. You have no idea how you’re going to get through the next thirty minutes without getting turned on. You already are.

“Yeah. I’m just not sure how it works.” He chuckles lightly as he rubs the back of his neck but there’s this glint in his eye that tells you he isn’t going to make this any easier on you or your tiny thong.

“Well, why don’t you just sit down on the couch and I can dance for you?” You grab his hand and guide him to the couch, encouraging him to sit down. He obliges you and you lower yourself into his lap with your legs hanging over his. You’re back in your top now, but it leaves little to be desired and you feel your body heat as his eyes rake over you. One of his large hands lands on your thigh and he gives you a questioning look, instead of answering him verbally you swing your leg over his to straddle him and grab onto both of his hands, resting them on your hips. You throw your arms over his shoulders and grind down on him lightly and it has his grip on you tightening.

“I don’t know the rules and you’re making it really hard for me to control myself already.” Eric’s voice is a deep rumble that runs straight to your core and god you don’t usually let customers touch you like this but you’re starting to wonder if you can stop yourself from fucking him right here.

“Wanna know a little secret, Eric?” You ghost your lips across his pierced ear and you can feel his skin break out into goosebumps.

“Yeah.” He groans when you grind down on him harder this time, his grip on you turning almost bruising.

“I don’t usually let guys touch me, even for money, but you? You can touch me as much as you want.” You run your nose down his jaw before pulling away from him, flipping around on his lap and pushing yourself onto your feet. You roll your body and shake your ass for him while pulling your top off again. You shimmy back onto his lap with your back pressed to his chest and grind against his now hard bulge. You can’t help the little whine that escapes you. His large tattooed hands grip onto your tits and that’s when you lose all sense of reality.

“I really liked your songs, ya know?” Eric’s breath tingles against your neck, his lips just barely brushing your skin. “You’re the only girl here I wanted to talk to.”

“Yeah? You’re the only guy I’ve ever seen in here that I actually wanted to dance for.” You throw your hands behind your back so you can lace them behind his head as you continue to wind on his lap. “And it’s so fucking against the rules but I’d let you fuck me right here.” You lean your head back so you can look up into his eyes and his expression has changed drastically, it was like your words flipped a switch inside of him and he wants nothing more to eat you alive.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, bunny.” He chuckles and brings a finger up to your cheek. He runs it down your face to your jaw before ghosting it over your lips and you can’t help but dart your tongue out to lick the pad of his finger. “Let me take you home with me.”

“Well, I’m not really supposed to do that either. But I really feel like breaking some fucking rules tonight.” You wind your hips in a circle and his cock slides perfectly between your thong covered ass.

“They can’t be too mad if I pay them off, right?” He squeezes your boob, rolling your nipple between his fingertips.

“That would cost a lot. You’re hot enough to lose my job over. There’s other clubs. I want you to fuck me.” You whine and pull the strings of your bottoms so they fall down your hips. You never thought you’d be here, sitting on a customers lap begging him to fuck you like a bitch in heat. But something about this man was making you lose all rationality.

“Money isn’t an issue for me baby. Hell, I’ll get you out of here permanently if you want.” He runs that perfect nose along the column of your throat, inhaling the expensive perfume one of your regulars bought you a few months back. “And you don’t need to beg, the minute I saw you I knew I’d give you anything you asked for.”

“Fuck, Those are some big promises, honey.” You giggle, sugary sweet, and it makes him melt. He grabs onto your hips and pushes you to stand, your tiny thong falling at your feet, leaving you exposed to him. Eric grabs onto the globes of your ass and spreads them open, your pussy lips coming apart with a click from how wet you are.

“Would you look at that? So fucking perfect.” He grips onto your hips to turn you around, making sure to steady you when you stumble in your heels. You watch with wide eyes as he reaches for his playboy bunny belt buckle and your jaw practically drops to the floor when he pulls his cock out. It’s fucking huge and pierced. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, bunny. Come sit on it.”

Eric pulls you forward and you straddle him, your knees sinking into the leather of the couch. He grips onto his shaft and runs it through your wetness, the balls of his piercing bumping against your clit. He taps the head against your sensitive bud before lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing inside your wet walls. But it’s not enough, you want to feel the burn of the stretch while he splits you open so you slam your hips down onto his, taking him to the hilt in one thrust. It nearly knocks the wind out of you and a moan so loud that the music barely drowns it out.

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Eric grips onto your ass and bounces you up and down on his cock as he stares into your eyes deeply. “You sure nobody is gonna come in here?”

“Nobody will, they’re definitely watching on the cameras and I’m definitely fucked as soon as we walk out of here but they’ll let it play out.” It’s like you gave him the green light because he plants his feet firmly on the ground and starts to fuck up into you. He grips onto your throat so he can pull your lips to his in a filthy kiss, not wasting any time intertwining your tongues together. The metal bar in his cock caresses your walls as his thick head bullies your g-spot and your toes curl in your boots. “Choke me harder.”

“Yeah? You like it rough, bunny? I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Eric squeezes your throat tighter and his free hand comes to run circles on your clit with his thumb. The way he’s talking about you like he already owns you combined with the pleasure he’s giving you has you already teetering towards the edge. “I’m gonna keep you, make you my pretty little fuck doll. You want that?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” You whine, drool starting to drip down your chin as your eyes roll back. Your manicured fingers scratch at his back through his shirt and you wouldn’t be surprised if it has tiny rips in it by the end of this.

“Look at me when you fall apart on my cock.” Eric grunts as he shifts his hips so he’s fucking into you even deeper and it has euphoria washing over your entire body the minute your eyes lock with his. Your pussy clenches around his cock like a vise grip and you moan so loudly there’s no way it can’t be heard outside of this room. But you’re way past giving a fuck. “Oh, that’s a good bunny, come for me.”

“Oh my f-fucking god! Fuckkkk me!” Eric’s thrusts don’t let up as he chases his own high, his hands grip onto your ass again and he’s practically folded in half on the couch as he bounces you like a fuck toy on his dick.

“I’m gonna fucking come.” Eric grunts before he’s pressing your hips flush against yours with his cock twitching inside you. You watch as he throws his head back, exposing his tattooed neck and you can’t help but lean forward and bite down on it. “Fuck yes, fucking bite me.”

You suck and bite on his skin until he goes limp underneath you, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes himself up with his cock still nestled inside of you before pulling you close so he can kiss you with a passion no man ever has before. Who was this guy? And why did you never want to leave him?

“Alright, we should get out of here so I can go lose my job.” You chuckle as you stand up and grab your bikini, tying it back on while Eric tucks himself back into his pants. He comes to stand in front of you, taking your face into his hands.

“I meant that shit I said. I know we don’t know each other, hell, I don’t even know your real name. But come home with me, I’ll pay off these assholes and buy you whatever you want.” Eric smiles at you so sweetly you feel like you’re going to melt into the beer soaked carpet and how can you say no?

“Fuck it. Let’s go.” You giggle and push yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him before pulling him out to face the music.

You definitely lost your job that night. But Eric fucked you so good you couldn’t even bring it in yourself to care. And he kept his promise. He kept you as his little doll and gave you everything your heart could ever desire.

Tagging a few moots who might be interested: @nailbatanddungeon @myspacebrat @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent

Divider is by @cafekitsune

[writermani4c]

Me and the Devil | Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a nun at an isolated convent. He is in your mind, eating away your mind bit by bit, soon destroying the pillars of your faith. Until you have no choice but to surrender to him, he will destroy all that is necessary.

warnings: He's a vampire. Of course he doesn't have to play fair, does he? There is mind control and there are some rather bloody deaths. I don't think I'm really good with that, I don't think it's too heavy, but it's good that there's a warning.

:: We girls can't bear to see a vampire who is completely obsessed with a woman, who will spill as much blood as it takes to get her, and who has already fallen in love with her. I'm completely obsessed by Nosferatu, even though I couldn't get a screening where I live. This is basically my brain being eaten away by Bill Skarsgard's hunger… I'm always hungry for Bill, but at this point in time I could be kept in a secluded castle to give birth to all of his babies, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy this. By the way, good luck in 2024!

The high-pitched squeak penetrated the stones of the convent, seeping like moss into the soft, bumpy cracks in the porosity, and imitated the soft voice of a wanderer saying a prayer in a dead language, older than time. His understanding was forgotten by men, but that didn't silence him. That voice was still preserved in the air that surrounded you like a thick mantle covering a thick cotton habit, as light as the coat of a holy lamb, which covered you from head to toe in a sacred enclosure. 

Through the narrow window of his room, all that showed were the orange Carpathian mountain ranges in the middle of a mild autumn, with the taste of hot tea and the smell of a fire burning in the evening, when the temperature dropped at night.

The mountain ranges and that stone fortress, far from the convent and yet terribly close.

Every day, the castle seemed to move. When you weren't watching it with your stoic expression, it seemed to grow tentacles over its foundation and creep up slowly. Depending on the day, it seemed further away, with only the tip of its towers appearing between the hills. But when you were getting ready for bed, tucked up in the modest comfort of your little room and wrapped in the soft blanket of your nightgown, the castle seemed terribly close to you, so close that you could feel its evil aura as you raised your hand in a vain attempt to touch it. 

He was calling you. A strength, a terror, a hungry longing.

Come to me, my eternal beloved. 

Tormented, you choked on your own breath. The deep, seductive sound of that voice crept under your blankets at night, and under the modest garments of your nightgown, finding your soft, easy-to-creep skin. His touch was physical, even if you often groped your skin in search of those hands and found nothing but loneliness, and intimacy. So intimate that not even the devil himself, cruel and cunning, could emulate such evil in his attempt to corrupt the Lord Jesus in his trial in the desert.

It scared you.

The feeling of intimacy that belongs to something, that is lost until it is regained. That invisible hand, as well as the voice that only you heard, shook your sense of self and made you feel the narrow mattress slipping off your back, the thin blanket sliding off your body and your fear of dissolving as you floated above the bed. A demonic, ghostly vision, with your eyes rolled back in a trance that nothing and no one could stop.

You felt it, more intimately than you felt anything else, and that was scarier than any of the other traps in hell.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

— My child — greeted the voice on the other side of the wooden confessional booth. The only voice you could turn to in times of extreme need. Father Lengyel was an elderly authority in the convent, as was Mother Superior Illés. If it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have had the courage to confide in him your greatest fears, seeking the reassurance of his gentle voice. — In your praiseworthy stillness, I can see that something is troubling you. You owe me your ordeal, child.

— Father, help me! — Tired and sleepless after a night awake, with your knees against the floor praying to ward off the tentacles of evil, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you saw the low, hunchbacked shadow of the priest. — I'm cursed. I didn't do anything about it, but I know that the shadow that haunts me was born with me, wrapped around me like an umbilical cord that has never been amputated. I feel it and sometimes I hear its impatience calling my name.

— Fear not, my child. No shadow of a curse is stronger than our Lord's mercy on your spirit, waking you up every morning with a breath of life.

But maybe it's not our Lord, you thought bitterly. You almost disbelieved that God would even work in your cause, probably deciding to wash his hands of you and leave you alone on your ordeal. This thought angered you, wondering how God, your holy God to whom you dedicated your time and efforts to serve with blind devotion, could leave one of his daughters helpless when the claws of the nefarious one threatened to entangle her? 

And anger, even though it was blasphemy with your Father, was easier to manage in your restless spirit than the fear that perhaps God hadn't let go of your hand. Perhaps he was there, following in your footsteps not long ago, weeping blood for not being able to do anything to prevent the evils that awaited you. Maybe there were forces greater than the salvation you blindly tried to reach like a child afraid of the dark.

That thought you swept from your mind, because if that thing was stronger than the Savior you were turning to, there would be no reason to be reluctant in its evil call.

— I beg you, Father, with all the infinite goodness of your being, pray for my soul. 

— I will, my child. You too, pray for wisdom and that the Lord, in his infinite love, will bring you comfort. 

When you left the confessional, you got down on your knees in front of the proudly erected altar. The suffering face of that poor man in his moment of greatest difficulty never comforted you, but inspired you. If even he, the son and Messiah, found the purpose to remain firm on the narrow road of faith, you too would find the strength to stay in the light. You would have to pass through that tortuous valley to have your healing.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

You weren't the youngest in the convent, but you weren't the oldest either. When you arrived, with your only bag with a few belongings and a photo of the home you grew up in, the home that always seemed unworthy of your torments about the terror that was trying to get its claws into you, there were older girls who took you in as a younger sister, teaching you the trade so that you could also teach those who came to the convent after you. This was the mission: you didn't serve God's pure purpose alone, but learned from your sisters so that you could teach others in a cycle that stretched out like an infinite patchwork quilt. 

Among his protégés, the young Agnes was the most cherished. So young and intelligent, she was your faithful dog in the convent corridors. Agnes, who came from a poorer and more literate family than yours, found comfort in listening to you read the Psalms, the book they were given to study. Agnes' chubby cheeks and earthy brown eyes reminded you of the child you would never have, the one you could never run your hand through and love. The Lord was merciful to you in giving you a sister to fill that void and you gave her all the attention you could. Your beloved Agnes sat next to you while you ate your lunch in silence. The soup was thinner, to save supplies for the harsh winter, and the bread was smaller. All deposits were saved and all fasting was done in summer and fall, because in winter your bodies' strength was tested by the ice that seemed to be trying to infiltrate your bones. They would have to eat better to survive until spring.

Next to him, young Agnes choked on her bread.

— Eat slowly. 

— Pardon me, sister! — She stopped eating, lowering her head as if she expected to be punished. You smiled, running your hand over your protégé's head. 

— Don't be like that. I'm talking for your own good, chew better, it also helps to fill your stomach.

The girl turned her face towards you with a soft, youthful smile. 

A low, loud sound caught their attention. It was as if the ceiling had broken, so you looked up in doubt, but it seemed as firm as ever. Surprised gasps and the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor made you stand up and look around, at the shocked faces of your sisters. 

— Stay behind me, Agnes. — You stood in front of the girl, shielding her with your body, while you searched for the cause of the commotion among the others. 

Another thud made you find the source of the terror. Your older sister, a girl so genuinely kind that she wouldn't mind giving up her own shoes and going barefoot if she had to. Olga. Olga, who was so generous that she always presented the others with little embroideries on old linen handkerchiefs, making them priceless pieces. Olga who hugged you as soon as you arrived, immensely happy as if you were a relative she hadn't seen for years and who was returning home. Your beloved sister Olga's nose was covered in blood and her front teeth were in an equally miserable state. Her blue eyes were completely covered by dark pupils, making them animalistic as she looked around at the familiar faces until she stopped at you. 

She gritted her teeth painfully, teasing the veins in her neck. Olga no longer knew you. She didn't look at you like her younger sister, but with anger.

— Ungrateful! Damn you! — She pointed her slender, cocked forefinger, the knuckles seeming to ache with the effort. — Ungrateful and  damned, unfortunate creature! Look what I do to what you love so much, look what I do to the object of your efforts!

Olga moved her face away from the table enough to almost fall backwards, gripping the edge of the table with her fingers tightly, before putting all her strength forward and, with a hollow sound of something breaking, smashing her nose against the wooden table. The noise tore you apart. Young Agnes' arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you pushed her back. 

Mother Illés rushed into the dining hall. 

She gave you an appeasing look and you understood. With agility, you gathered all the younger girls, totally terrified, and asked them to follow you out while Olga, surrounded and supported by her older sisters, screamed:

— Love me! Devote yourself to me! Command me if you wish, but don't ignore me, my beloved, don't deny me, for I am your lord and savior! I am the master of your pure and tormented soul, my beloved! 

But you, terrified, denied his call once again. You covered your ears as you led the girls into the courtyard outside. The dry autumn wind enveloped you, your voices, but did nothing to muffle the terror in your minds. Little Agnes was still wrapped tightly in your body and soon the others followed suit, seeking warmth in your shivering, freezing body. Concentrating on them, on reassuring them, took your mind off the torturous thought that, yes, he was impatient.

All those years of “tranquility” were his gift, his way of making you surrender voluntarily. But he was lonely. He was hungry. 

Now he controlled Olga's body. 

But not just her. 

That same night, while Olga was tied to her bed under the watchful eye of Mother Illés, Annabeth began to dance as she blew out the candles. You didn't see it, you were busy with your chores, but the others saw it and told you about it in sad, frightened voices. Annabeth, so young and playful, began to twirl around and the others thought she was just playing. The girl liked to play games, hiding pine cones under her pillows and little flowers in the sleeves of her habits. 

She spun around mesmerized, spinning faster and faster and more violently. Her feet seemed bewitched and she suffered without even being able to move her mouth to do so, her teeth clenched in a painful grind as her jaw unhinged. The candles on the altar grew, fueled by something supernatural and unworthy, dancing along with young Annabeth.

That macabre dance ended in a tableau and the flames touching the young woman's habit. The fire consumed her without anyone being able to put it out; no amount of water could stop the flames. They consumed Annabeth until there was nothing left. In her death, she said nothing, but tearing her clothes to get rid of the fire, her name was torn into the soft skin of my body. Her name was everywhere, written with love, sorrow and anger. Like a love-hate letter, he wrote to you through the skin of an innocent girl. 

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You hadn't slept a wink for three nights. 

At the slightest sign of unconsciousness, as you blinked your eyes a little more slowly, it was as if he was lurking there waiting to take you, and this made you resist even though your body could barely stand.

The mother didn't let you take part in the funeral, allowing you only a brief farewell before you were taken to your chambers to rest. 

You didn't want to rest.

Even so, you didn't have the strength to move. Perhaps it was tiredness or apathy, the feeling that all your efforts were useless.You lay there in your narrow bed, watching the day fade away through the shadows on the wall.

The night was his territory. 

Night was when he hid in the wind and entered his room.

Even though he wanted to, there was no voice in his throat to scream and a hot tear ran down his left eye. 

The door to his room opened and, to his relief, Father Lengyel entered his room. The black cloak swirled solemnly around him, like something divine coming to his rescue.

— What ails you, my dear!

— A large, slender hand, smelling of scrubbed earth, touched his face. There was a certain softness to it, even though the ice in your palms made you sigh with the thermal shock. — My poor little lamb! 

The man held your face lovingly, with such care that you simply let go, allowing yourself to cry in dismay at his attentive care. Father Lengyel, so small and twisted, sat on the edge of your bed. A candle burned on the chair on the other side of the room, the glow of the fire casting shadows on the wall next to your bed and leaving you cloaked in that lonely corner. Father Lengyel kissed your cheek, with those closed, dead lips, so cold they made you shiver.

— Father!

— Poor creature!

— My shadow is growing. — You confessed, leaning your face on the old man's hand. — My shadow consumed poor Olga and Annabeth, casting them into the valley of the storm. 

Father Lengyel pulled the blanket away from your body and, in the narrow space that barely fit a body, he lay down with you. Your eyes widened as the man pressed himself against your body. The man you had always seen as a loving and attentive father, a listener incapable of the slightest judgment, lay beside you with the warmth of a lover. 

— You curse us all, my sweet. — His mouth curved into a smile that only reflected darkness. — Everyone, everyone, everyone. My eyes, so blessed with the beauty of your soft skin and childish eyes, your sweet mouth and the shaggy strands of your eyebrows, became the object of his dark admirer's envy and, look, what he did to me.

In the short distance between your faces, that distance you wanted to increase at all costs, you could make out the old man's wrinkled features. His withered cheeks, the corners of his eyes creased by years and years of study and service to the church. His thinning hair was pearly white on his straight head, with little spots like freckles. The eyes, previously blue, weren't there. 

In their place, there was the emptiness of two hollow holes whose darkness seemed to feed with pleasure. 

The priest smiled in her direction.

— Smile, my dear. Who else in the world would be as adored and cherished as you? What other soul would be as worthy of all the fascination of eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires as the rising and setting of the sun? There are worse ways to live. In complete ignorance, never seen and never remembered, gradually rotting away like this old man. 

In an unknown breath, you felt the instinct to fight with the same strength as the archangels as you sat up in bed, your body trembling from the effort. The priest continued to lie there, moaning with satisfaction as he enjoyed the smell of your hair against the pillow where you had shed your tears. 

He was totally possessed. The evil had taken hold of the most benevolent man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing, save only his own father, a man so generous that he gave up his beloved daughter to the care of a convent without ever doubting his desires to follow a holy life. All was lost.

You got out of bed, your legs wobbly as you dragged yourself out of the room. There were few lit candles and a long corridor. Carefully, you hugged your body and left your quarters, dreading the next demonic sight you would encounter on your way.

The convent seemed more alive than ever. A complete organism. The walls moved as it breathed and guided you in silence, the cold accompanying you like a guardian, a raven on your sullen shoulders. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly glow illuminating what not even candle flames could touch. And you walked, leaning on the walls, groping for balance. In the dining hall, where Olga's blood was embedded in the wood of one of the tables, you saw the shadows of the feet of all your beloved sisters and your devoted mother.

They all floated solemnly, with ropes around their necks. They all looked at you with pupils consumed by darkness and wide smiles, so big that they seemed to rejoice in your presence. 

— My beloved! — cried Clara. 

— Beacon of my darkness! — said Lucia. 

— Don't you see, my beloved? 

With dread, you walked around the tables, looking into their faces. Every single one of them. The rope wasn't taut, they were floating under the invisible force that kept them alive only for a brief moment. Just long enough for you to see them, to remember their names and their faces, their voices, their lives and their untouchable faith. Because they, like your Savior, had no power to stop the terrors you were cursed with at birth.

As soon as your cry marked his arrival in this rotten, petty and cheap world, he also felt the pain in his chest, where his lungs were supposed to work. Your soft cry marked the raw, lifeless gasp of the thing that woke up to take in its big, slender hands what was rightfully its: that poor soul, which had never found a single day's peace, shrouded in the melancholy of that fateful encounter. 

Nothing could stop her soul from touching him, much less his emptiness from possessing her soul.

It was a perfect fit, an unspoken agreement between heaven and hell. God, all merciful, gave you up for the greater good. You were eternally linked. 

And your sisters, mother and father paid the price for coming between the two of you, for taking you away from your true home and your true master. They filled your days with their miserable little lives, with miserable knowledge, with miserable privations for such... miserable glory. 

— I have set you free, my beloved. I have loosened the nails that bound you to your cross. — Murmured the mother, with jubilant eyes, cheeks streaked with sweet tears. Your stern and beneficent mother. — My obsession is the key to this filthy, worthless prison. Come, darling, and enjoy with me all the pleasures you've been denied. Come quickly, my beloved, put an end to my loneliness.

His shadow has grown over you, outside in the courtyard.

— Spare them! I beg you! — Her voice roared over the tearful smiles of her sisters. Young Agnes wiggled her legs, looking at you with that untouched childish gaze, as if she were throwing herself into dense fluffy clouds and not into the abyss of death, into the blackness of darkness. — Spare them and I'll follow you without looking back. I will never desire anything other than your company, nor will I follow any other path than the one your feet once trod.

Your sisters' laughter exploded through the high ceiling, laden with a mockery that didn't belong to them.

Bewitched, they all looked down at you with equal dark amusement, their voices blending together like a spiral that drained the strength from your legs. 

— Don't you understand yet, my holy lamb? — Smiled sweet Agnes. — There's no bargaining. Whether they live or die, you will still be mine.Even in death, I will pull you back and chain you to me. I myself have suffered many years of being bound to the prison of my desires for you, waiting for you for countless years, feeling the weight of your rejection, cruel lover. 

— But you love me, don't you?

— Every part of me to every part of you, my sweetness. 

— So give me these gifts. Spare my beloved sisters, my fellow human beings, those sweet women with pure hearts who have guarded me long enough for you to come and take your rightful possession. They are not guilty, but guardians. — On your knees, you clasped your hands to your chest, begging the devil for mercy. — I know I wasn't good to you, I was insensitive to your call, but they are not to blame.You'll have all my devotion if you spare them, but if you kill them, even though you have my body and my spirit, you'll never have a drop of my attention. 

The silence of the souls hanging from the ceiling of the convent refectory echoed their inconsolable weeping.Thick tears and a plea so strong that it could make the souls turn over in their graves. 

The doors opened in a rush, letting the cold wind enter the dining hall. 

For the first time, under the ethereal light of the moon, as if in a macabre mixture of dream and nightmare intertwined by the thin veil of unconsciousness, you saw it.Not its aura or its agonized call, you saw the creature with your own eyes. 

You, who know so little about men, had never seen such a figure. 

So tall that you had to stoop to pass through the door that you would walk through without any difficulty.Eyes so deep that no light could reach them. A face hardened by the spectre of death, with a long nose and a thick moustache of a deep shade of black.He entered the sacred ground with equal parts ease and pain, each step a necessary torture to reach the object of his desire. The soul he so coveted in his millennial solitude, forgotten by the world, completely abandoned under the promise of a single soul that the heavens did not claim, a soul he could corrupt at will. 

Yours to devour, he thought at first, perhaps resentful that he was also chained to a lowly mortal, a wandering and very basic creature. Yours to torment, he thought, when you were very young and saw his shadow in your room for the first time. Yours to worship, he realized now, pulling her by her bare arms to stand up.

The creature, hungry for something, for some compensation for its endless loneliness, brought its face close to his and, with a touch of malice, stuck out its tongue, licking the length of his tears with its cold, inhuman breath. 

— I thought you'd wait for me in your habit, my beloved.I was particularly looking forward to it. — He lowered his cold, vile gaze, delving into the shape of your body beneath the nightgown with which you were forced to rest, a fabric so thin of light cotton that it hung down your body, revealing through the worn nature of the fabric the color of your stiff nipples against the fabric. He gasped with pleasure. — But what unparalleled pleasure it is to see you in such intimate attire, my eternal obsession. 

His hands, holding her face, were huge, with large, aged nails. Nails that would have dug into the earth to escape the grave. Their coldness was uncomfortable, but, given the horrors in your mind, you found yourself accepting their touch as a shred of comfort.

It destroyed your sanity, that it would at least give you the soothing balm of a caress.

— Please! — you sighed with a breath, a breath as anguished as it was tired. 

Your hands touched his, your eyes full of life and fear threatened his darkness with such a benevolent request, something the creature had never witnessed. 

Those like you, mortals, used to beg for mercy on your own life, on your knees and with the greatest promises of riches and pleasures.And here you were, a soul who would never reach heaven, asking for mercy for others when it was your fate that was at stake.

How he loved you! How he hated you!

— Treating it as my personal gift and demonstration of my esteem, these women live by my ability to have mercy on the requests of your heart. — He approached your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the salt of your feverish skin. All his vitality was more than banal desire, he was madly fissured by every cell of his anatomy, every rudimentary bit of his mortal Anatomy, and so doomed to the horrors of putrefaction. — My eternal living flame, how it tormented me not to be able to touch it. How it torments me right now to feel the softness of your skin. 

The creature's eyes mapped your face, his eyes so vivid and striking in color, the visage on your skin, the softness of his mouth as you breathed audibly, so bruised by fatigue that you didn't even budge when he wrapped you in his arms like a bruised little bird. Her soft sigh, nesting her head against his shoulder, was the fuel for him to release the women from their ropes, gently lowering them until their feet touched the ground.

— As long as you live, my ladies, be the witness of my triumph in having my sweet beloved in my arms for eternity.

He lowered his face in your direction, the ancient smell on his clothes made you scratch your nose. 

The texture of his mustache was thick. When his funeral lips touched yours, you tried to resist. Never before have you felt the pleasure of a passionate kiss or a love that took your breath away. But he knew what he'd been waiting for, holding you tightly by the back of your head, wrapping himself around you menacingly as his mustache scratched and skin immaculate from his face. His lips were hard, demanding and hungry.

His mouth ate you as his last hope, the last of pleasures and torments, a feast for a dying man.

The exchange, life and death, touching each other for the first time ignited an impulse in you. The impulse that matched his kiss, because that was the deal. You gave in, letting your lips submit to the kiss. Your body was surprised as you gasped with pleasure at corresponding with him, stimulated by the passion with which he held you. The human body is capable of many bargains to continue resisting.

And you, who had resisted for so long, gave in to that bittersweet feeling of surrender, feeling it take against your body.

Her body gradually sank into the feeling of being supported. As her dark lover's lips devoured hers, the world became a darker and darker place, the hiss of the wind seeping into her ears like spilled poison.  Between soft gasps, feeling the creature suck on his lips, unable to be completely satiated, his body gave in to the strain, falling into a powerful sleep. Realizing that you no longer corresponded with him, he walked away, looking at her with apprehension. His right hand, large and bony, rested on his chest. 

The beating of his heart was quiet, yet powerful. Each beat rumbling softly against the bones of his chest. 

Under the gaze of the bewitched nuns, he disappeared with the night, carrying with him the only one with whom he could share his eternal night.

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[hauntedfawnn]

Candy Girl ⟡˖ Roman Godfrey x Reader ⟡˖

Warnings: Pervy/obsessive reader, blood kink(duh), period sex, Roman eats reader out on her period, blood drinking(just a whole lot of blood), choking, perverted acts involving panties, unprotected sex, male masturbation, a tiny dash of daddy kink, pet names, fluff. 18+MDNI! Wk: 4.2k

You are driving Roman insane. No matter how hard he tries to evade you, shut you down, you remain persistent. He met you outside the ice cream shop a few weeks ago. You were standing there in these tiny, little shorts with a tube top while you ate your cotton candy cone. Some dripped down the side and onto your hand and he couldn’t help but stare at the way you licked it off. You caught him and called him out, asking if he had a staring problem before walking over to him. And into his life. Then you never walked out. You had this sassy attitude that had a lightness behind it and he immediately knew he couldn’t muck it up with his darkness. You smelled like bubblegum and cinnamon and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the curve of your neck and taste your candy-sweet blood.

Then he found out why you were in town, you’re Peter’s childhood bestfriend, of course you fucking were. It meant you knew where he lived, where he worked, and you took advantage of that. He would come out of meetings to you sitting in his office, or he’d find little notes on pink paper that weren’t there when he left. You’d leave baked goods that were way too sweet for him on his doorstep. But if he imagined it was the way you tasted he could stomach it, and even sometimes you’d be waiting there when he got home.

He gave you the cold shoulder at every turn. Hardly speaking to you, rolling his eyes, scoffing. He even plain told you to “fuck off” a few times but none of it discouraged you. You’d just smile and let out this cute little giggle, like you knew he didn’t mean it. Your persistence flatters him, that bright smile on your face never faltering when your pretty eyes are on him. Roman was strong at first. But his resolve is slipping, especially since you started getting more scandalous with your little gifts.

It started with the Polaroids. The first one was innocent enough, just a picture of your sweet face. But the camera was tilted down for him to see the cleavage in your low cut top. They just got dirtier from there. Pictures of you sucking on your fingers. Body shots in little lingerie that he hopes nobody else sees you in. The thought makes him murderous. Your tits. Your perfect ass. You even started getting bold with pussy shots. And you always signed them with naughty little notes.

What really sent him over the edge though? You started leaving him your panties. The first pair was in the drawer in his office. You’d leave them on the rear view mirror of his car. Any random little spot you could find.

He was barely holding onto his resolve. The only thing holding him back is Peter’s threat to snap his neck if he didn’t stay away from you, and the fact that he didn’t trust himself not to drain every drop of blood from your perfect body. But now he’s sitting on his bed with a pair of your panties in his hand, and it’s not just any pair, they’re bloody. The note you left with them was you practically begging for him to be your boyfriend and for him to let you suck his dick. And somehow you got into his house to leave them right on his pillow. If it was anyone else he would be fucking pissed, he’d find them for breaking into his space, and wring their neck. But something about you going to that length to be close to him makes his heart beat faster, and his cock twitch.

Roman also wonders how you knew he’d want these. Did Peter tell you about him? Do you know what Peter is? If so, is this your way of telling him you don’t care? His thoughts are spiraling, but he keeps going back to the idea that this was you offering your blood to him. And who was he to turn down the offer of the century? He brings the crotch of your panties to his nose and inhales deeply, the scent of your candy sweet blood causing him to groan deeply in his chest. He brings them to his lips and runs his tongue along the sticky middle, his eyes rolling back from the taste of you. His cock feels like it’s going to burst out of his jeans and he practically growls as he undoes his belt and pulls it from his slacks. He pumps his cock while the taste of you lights up his system like a drug.

You really should’ve thought this through more. Not only did you have no idea when Roman would be home, you also didn’t bring an extra pair of panties. So you’re currently huddled in his bathroom behind the shower curtain, trying not to bleed on your little white mini skirt. Wearing it was definitely a choice, all of this was. You wouldn’t say you’ve been stalking Roman, it’s more that you’re persistent and know what you want. Some might call it stalking though.

You can’t help it. He’s just so fucking beautiful and mysterious. He’s so closed off and cold but you can tell there’s a softness underneath it, a desperation to be loved. You want to crack him open at the very center and consume every drop of sweetness he has to offer. You want to know everything about him.

Peter says you’re obsessed, and he’s not wrong. He also told you to give it up, he even told you Roman’s deepest secret in hope that it would deter you. But all it did was make you want him more. You’ve known about Peter since you were kids, so finding out vampires, or upirs are real, wasn’t the biggest shock to you. It just made you want to expose your neck to him and let him drink from you until he was drunk off your taste. You know leaving him little love notes, your panties, and nudes might come off desperate. But if he really cared he would’ve told you to stop by now. And it’s not like you’ve tried very hard, or at all, to hide it was you. Now you’re hiding in his fucking bathroom because you literally broke into his house. You’re so fucked.

You’re ripped from your thoughts on how to escape by the sound of a loud groan, followed by ragged breathing. At first you thought he was pissed but as you continued to listen you could hear the slight sound of skin slicking on skin. Was he fucking someone? Suddenly murder was starting to sound appealing. Then you heard it, the sound of your name and that’s when it clicked. He’s jerking off, hopefully with your panties, or at least because of them. Did he taste them? God, you hope he did.

Your mind is reeling with the possibilities of what is happening just on the other side of this wall, the door isn’t even shut. Your curiosity ends up outweighing your desire to stay hidden. You pull back the shower curtain and slip quietly out of the shower, being extra careful to make sure your pink platform heels don’t click against the expensive marble tiles on the floor. You tiptoe to the door and peer through the crack and the sight in front of you nearly brings you to your knees.

Roman is sitting on the edge of his bed with his thick, hard cock in his hand as he pumps himself. His large legs are spread wide and his hips raise off the bed to meet his hand. Best of all though? The crotch of your panties is entirely in his mouth. His eyes are rolled back as he eagerly sucks your bloody juices from the soft silk. Your nipples harden in your little top at the sight and you feel wet, hot liquid drip down the side of your thigh before you look down just in time to see a splat of your blood drop down onto the white marble below you. It causes a little gasp to sound low in your chest and Roman whips his head in your direction the second he hears it.

You take a few shaky, nervous steps back and your heel catches on the corner on the bathmat, causing you to fall flat on your ass. Your skirt pools around your hips and your pussy is on full display as the cool air hits your slick center. You barely have time to realize you fell before Roman is pushing the bathroom door open so hard it slams against the wall. His eyes are crazed as he takes in the sight in front of him. He has his slacks and boxers pulled up now but his pants and belt are still undone. His usually meticulously styled hair is out of place, like he was running his fingers through it. His perfectly pressed black button up has the top three buttons undone and he’s clutching your panties in his large hand. He looks like a wet fucking dream.

Roman could say the same about you though. You’re sitting on his bathroom floor in a tank top that’s so see through he can practically see your nipples and he can tell you’re not wearing a bra. Your hair is in these cute little braids with ribbons tied on the ends and your pretty, pouty lips shine in the iridescent white light of the bathroom. But what’s driving him to the point of insanity? Your little white skirt is bunched up at your hips, revealing your bare pussy to him. Which means the only pair of panties you had were the ones you gave him. Silly girl. You’re pussy glistens with your wet, bloody juices and your white skirt is streaked with blood.

If he believed in heaven, he’s sure this is what it would look like. Except for the way his stomach growls at the smell of you suddenly makes him feel like he’s in hell. He thought the smell of you on your panties was just really strong, he didn’t realize the source was just behind the door. You smell so fucking good. Like someone blended cotton candy and blood and mixed it with your arousal and he’s never smelled anything better in his life. He wants to rip your skin open and drink every drop of saccharine liquid from your body and that’s exactly why he’s stayed away. But now? He’s not sure he can trust himself, but how can he resist just a taste?

“Roman, I’m - I’m so sorry! I really shouldn’t have - fuck I’m just so sorry.” Your voice is squeaky and you trip over your words while you talk awkwardly with your hands.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Roman’s nostrils flare and he clenches his hands into tight fists at his sides. He looks fucking pissed and you can’t help the way your pussy clenches at the sight. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Broke into your house and left my blood panties on your pillow?” You state the obvious with an awkward smile and close your legs when you realize you’re still flashing him your entire pussy. Even though you don’t really care. He’s already seen it all.

“You think I’m mad you broke in?” Roman chuckles darkly as he takes a few steps toward you, he’s absolutely massive from this angle and it makes your head spin. He holds your panties up and rolls them between his fingers before holding them out toward you. “I don’t give a fuck about that. Do you realize how dangerous what you’re doing is?! Do you realize that - that I could fucking hurt you?!”

“I’m not scared of you, Roman. If you’re mad because you think you’re going to hurt me, good. I want you to.” You lick your lips and smirk up at him, baiting him. If he isn’t mad that you broke in, you’re going to shoot your shot. You didn’t come all this way, practically stalking him, for nothing.

“You should be.” Roman grits as he glares down at you. He knows if you offer yourself to him, it’s over. He can’t resist you anymore. Not like this. “You can’t just - you can’t just fucking walk in here dressed like that, smelling like blood and shit.” He takes another step forward and points down at you accusingly. “Why can’t you just give it up, huh?! No matter what I do, you don’t stop!”

“Because I can tell you want me! And you think you’re some big, bad scary monster but, newsflash, Roman I’m not afraid of you! I want you to fuck the shit out of me and feed off me. I want to be the only person you’re nice to because I can tell you’re sweet underneath that mountain of ice. I can tell you just want to be loved.” You look up at him through your lashes as you get onto all fours and crawl until you’re knelt directly in front of him. “Let me feed you, let me love you.”

“You’re fucked in the head, you know that?” Roman chuckles and smirks down at you devilishly, his words holding less malace now. “But I guess that makes us both fucked because all this crazy shit you’ve been doing gets me so hard. I’m gonna fucking ruin you, princess.”

“Do it.” It was like you said the magic words with how quickly Roman gets onto his knees and manhandles you onto your back. He roughly grabs your thighs, spreading them apart as he shoves his face between your legs. He lickes a long stripe along your folds before slipping his tongue between them and licking up your juices. Every nerve on Roman’s body lights up at your taste and he growls into your pussy as he shoves his tongue into your hole and swirls it.

“Oh fuck, that’s so fucking good.” You whine and it spurs Roman on, his cock twitching in his jeans. You taste better than he could have ever imagined. Like metallic candy and desire. He doesn’t know how he will settle for the taste of anything else ever again. Roman grabs onto your ass and lifts your lower half off the ground, his tongue never letting up. He flattens it inside of you and practically scoops your blood into his mouth as he drinks it down. His thumb comes up to rub circles on your clit and it has you close to coming already. “Oh god, I’m going to come.”

Roman moans into your pussy as he looks up at you with his big, green eyes that are almost entirely black from the dilation of his pupils. He hasn’t come up for air once, he can suffocate and drown between your legs with your blood on his tongue for all he cares. He circles his tongue around your hole before thrusting it back inside you and it has white hot pleasure burning through you. You grip onto his hair and your hips rut against his face as you ride out your high. You start to come back down to earth but Roman doesn’t stop until you’ve come on his mouth two more times. He finally pulls off of you and you pant as you try to focus your blurry eyes on the way your blood coats his lips.

“You taste so much fucking better than I could’ve ever imagined.” Roman moans as he brings his finger to gather the blood on his chin and cheeks before sucking it into his mouth. He licks his lips, savoring your taste like it's the finest meal he’s ever eaten, because it was. “I don’t know how I’m going to come back from that. Nothing will ever taste as good as that. Fuck! I shouldn’t have -”

“ROMAN!” You shout as you lean forward and take his face in your hands. “Don’t spiral. I’ll be your personal fucking blood bag, for all I care.” You smile at him adoringly as your thumbs brush his cheeks. “Will you kiss me?”

“You want me to kiss you?” Roman cocks his head to the side as his eyes roam your sweet face. He can’t believe such a weird fucking girl resides inside your angelic form. “You’re not real.”

“Real as they come, shut up and kiss me.” Roman surges forward, crushing his lips against yours. They’re so plush and soft and he tastes like your blood but you don’t even care because he’s finally kissing you. You slip your tongue into his mouth and tangle it with yours as you lean up to wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your chest against his own. You want to be closer to him. Roman groans as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up as he stands with ease. His other hand grips onto your ass and you lock your legs around his waist, your lips never ceasing to touch each other. He walks into his bedroom and throws you down on the bed, standing at the edge of it as he looks down at you hungrily.

“I want you to fuck me.” You smile up at him with mock innocence as you spread your thighs for him. “Use me, Roman.”

“If you think you’re ever escaping me now, you’re wrong. I’ll tie you to my fucking bed if I have to. You’re mine now.” Roman groans as he leans down and licks the length of your pussy, tasting your blood again.

“Well, I like the sound of that, I just might have to run away, afterall…” You sigh dramatically and it's cut off with a squeak when Roman lands a smack on your pussy. “Hey!”

“You’re a fucking, brat, aren’t you, an angel in desguise?” Roman smacks your pussy again and you’re so wet it echoes off the walls. “I won’t hesitate to punish you in the future. But right now I need to feel that tight fucking pussy wrapped around my cock.”

Roman pushes his pants and boxers down his hips, freeing his hard, thick cock. He grabs onto the sides of his shirt, ripping the buttons open and shoving it off his shoulders. He leans down and wraps his hand around your throat, his mouth watering at the feeling of your blood pumping against his palm. He takes his cock in his other hand and taps it on your clit a few times before lining up with your entrance and slamming deep inside you. There’s no build up, no time to think with the way he brutally fucks into you.

“Oh my fucking god.” You moan and wrap your legs around romans hips, using your heel clad feet to push him deeper. Roman continues to squeeze your throat, addicted to the feeling of your pumping blood as your pussy practically constricts his cock.

“You’re so fucking tight, fuck. Let me see these tits, baby.” Roman’s free hand reaches down to pull your tank top down below your chest. Your tits bounce free and he roughly takes one in his hand, pinching your nipple hard. “Even more perfect than your little pictures.”

He leans down to take one in his mouth and he lets his grip on your throat fall so he can twist your opposite nipple. Your back arches off the bed as your hands grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. Roman continues to pound into your pussy, this new angle has him hitting deeper and his pelvis bumps against your clit deliciously.

“God, Roman, you feel so fucking good.” Breathy moans leave your lips as you try to meet his erratic thrusts. His mouth moves onto your other tit and he bites down on your nipple surprisingly gently. “Bite me harder. Drink from me.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking, doll.” Roman plants sloppy kisses on your chest and up your neck before running his perfect, pointed nose along your jugular. He kisses along the column of your neck and nips at your skin. “What if I can't stop?”

“I trust you.” You sigh dreamily as you run your fingers through his hair. “I want it, please?”

Roman pushes himself up on his hands so he can look down at you with his shiny, viridescent eyes, he searches your face for doubt but all he sees is lust and a look of trust that he hasn’t seen anyone give him in a long time. Everyone in his life fears him, aside from Peter, that is. But this is different, you’re almost looking at him like you love him or something. Then you do it, you crane your head to the side, exposing your neck further to him and Roman thinks he might be in love with you.

“Fuck it.” Roman slams his hips against yours roughly and grabs onto the back of your head as he leans down and licks across your neck. He plants a few sloppy kisses there, inhaling your taste and savoring the way your heart beats against his lips before sinking his teeth into your delicate skin. He isn’t sure if this or your pussy tasted better but something about you trusting him with your life makes this different. It makes him fucking crazy. You make him fucking crazy.

“Shit, that feels amazing.” Your eyes roll back at the feeling of Roman’s teeth puncturing your skin as he pulls your blood from your body. He’s still fucking you like a man posessed and it’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Take as much as you need, daddy.”

Roman straight up growls into your throat at that, his thrusts somehow becoming even rougher. His free hand travels between your legs to rub circles on your clit and it sends you over the edge. You see stars as your orgasm wracks through your entire body. Once you come down, Roman pulls his teeth from your neck and licks the bloody wound they left behind.

“That’s my good girl, fucking come for me.” Roman takes your jaw in his big hand and pulls your lips against his in a filthy kiss, filling your mouth with that metallic taste mixed with something that’s purely Roman. When he pulls away, he licks the blood that smeared on your lips from his own. “Fucking addicted to your taste, you’re so sweet, like candy. My little candy girl.”

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” You admit it with your full chest, as if it wasn’t already obvious. You bring your nails up and run them down his chest, leaving lines of scratch marks. “You can taste me whenever you want.”

“You’re so fucking hot.” Roman pushes up on his knees and grips onto your thighs, tossing them over his shoulder. It has his cock hitting places you didn’t even know were there. Roman grips onto your throat again, leaning down and nearly folding you in half. He shoves his face into your neck and licks the blood still gathered where his teeth pierced your skin and that’s all it takes to have his cock twitches inside of you, filling you with ropes of his cum.

“Fuck yes, milk my dick, angel.” Roman doesn’t stop fucking you until his cock starts to soften inside you and then he collapses on top of you. His weight crushes you into the mattress but it feels good and you bring your fingers up to tickle across his back and into his silky hair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Roman chuckles into your neck and it fills your tummy with a million butterflies.

“Yeah? How so?” Roman pushes himself up on his hands so he can look down at you with a smile you’ve never seen before. It’s warm and sweet and you never want it to go away.

“Well, first of all, you practically stalked me. You broke into my house, and then you offered me your blood as if me killing you wasn’t a very real possibility. You’re kinda crazy” Roman chuckles as his hand comes up to cup your cheek and you swear you’re going to melt. “It’s pretty sexy though. You really gonna be my little blood bag?”

“Oh! So he does have a sense of humor!” You giggle and Roman rolls his eyes and flips onto his back. You take the opportunity to straddle him and look down at him like he hung the stars and it makes his heart beat weird. You’re so fucking pretty sitting on him with your hair all mused and your tits out, your pretty little neck decorated with his bite mark. “Jokes aside though, I meant that.”

“Well shiiit, who am I to say no to that?” Roman laughs, like for real laughs and it lights up his entire face. Now that you’ve accomplished your goal of getting him, your new one is to make him laugh like that, everyday.

“Does this mean your boyfriend now?” Roman grabs onto your braids, pulling your face down so it’s only an inch away from his while he gives you that bright smile you want to bottle up and save for a rainy day.

“Yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend or whatever, blood bag.” You giggle and Roman kisses you lovingly and way more gently than before. You knew you could break him. And now he’s yours.

Some of you might recognize my writing and aesthetic, if you do, hello! This is where I’ll be writing from now on. I’ll be writing for several different characters and I hope you enjoy the ride!✨

Tagging my Bill babes: @rafescorpsebride @taintandviolent (<- shout out to you pookie for shaking my Roman brain worm that never sleeps) @eerielamb @that-sarcastic-writer 🤍

Divider by @anitalenia

[morbidollette]

the crow fics

✧ i think i could love you.

✧ beautifully broken.

✧ you're my drug.

✧ trouble.

✧ borrowed bites

✧ pornography.

✧ pussy liquor.

✧ nightmare.

✧ his pet.

✧ in the dead of night.

✧ art on art.

✧ something sweet.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Trouble (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader)

Bill Skarsgard, covered in blood and acting feral as he violently kills people to avenge the woman he loves?? Yeah, that really did a number on me….but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Eric’s quiet character in the first act so pls enjoy my ramblings! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 1.5k+

Summary- Eric's carefully guarded solitude is disrupted by a bold newcomer who seems to be trouble incarnate.

“I wanna get in trouble.”

A voice, sudden and electric, broke Eric from his reverie as a figure’s shadow fell across the intricate lines and shadows of his drawing. He glanced up hesitantly, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight behind you. His eyes were met with the sight of you – a tempestuous spirit with wild, untamed hair that cascaded around your face like a mane, defying the order and discipline of this facility. There was a glint in your eyes, mischievous and daring, that seemed to challenge the very atmosphere around you. You loomed above him, a figure of restless energy, waiting for a response that he was unprepared to give. 

“What?” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, a stark contrast to the boldness of your intrusion. 

You grinned cheekily, and with an audacity that left him momentarily stunned, you stepped up onto the picnic bench he was perched at, planting yourself so that you were sitting on the table as if it was your own personal stage. Your feet, clad in worn, oversized sneakers rested casually on the seat in a silent declaration of your disregard for rules. “Don’t you?”

Eric blinked at you, his brows furrowed as he hastily pulled his papers closer, as if to shield them from your encroaching presence. “No.”

“No?” you parroted, a suggestive playfulness tone to your voice. “But this place is so boring.” 

He glanced around the yard, taking in the stark reality of the rehab facility, his eyes lingering on the chain link fence with its towering barbed wire glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun. “It’s supposed to be,” he said with cold detachment. “And you’re not supposed to be fraternizing with me.”

You followed his gaze, casting a sly look to the guards who stood at the back door, and a smirk danced on your lips. “Uh oh, I wonder what the consequences for that will be.”

Eric wanted to roll his eyes at your attitude. This was how all the newbies were when they came in: brash, defiant and convinced they could outwit the system. They came in with fire in their eyes only for it to be extinguished within days by the crushing reality of their situation. Nobody stayed trouble for long. He watched as their bravado withered, soon to be replaced by resignation. And the ones like you – those who pushed the boundaries with reckless abandon – often found themselves confined to solitary confinement, their spirits slowly eroded by the wright of their own demons. 

“You think I could seduce one of these guards to sneak us in some contraband?” you asked, raising your brow in a conspiratorial way as you nodded toward a pair of male guards standing near the backdoor, idly chatting and sharing a cigarette. 

Eric’s gaze traveled over you, from the oversized, ugly pink sweatshirt that swamped your frame to the untamed hair that framed your face like a wild halo. You spoke of “us” as if any semblance of companionship existed between you too. There wasn’t. It was just him and his solitary existence. He had no need for friends, no desire for connections – especially not from someone like you. 

“No,” he said finally as he returned to his sketch, hoping his blatant disinterest would be enough to drive you away. “You need to get off the table.”

He could feel your eyes on him, your gaze almost too intense. When you tilted your head, studying him in amused disbelief, he knew what was coming. Another newbie thinking they could crack him open like some sort of nut, put together the broken pieces like a puzzle. He kept his attention on the drawing, hoping you’d take the hint and leave him alone. 

“C’mon, you don’t look like someone who’s this much of a stick in the mud.” Your voice was playful, teasing but Eric could sense the challenge beneath it. His silence seemed to fuel you, as if his resistance was exactly what you were hoping for. “What’s your name anyway?”

He hesitated, hating how you were forcing him to interact with you like some needy puppy. “Eric,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the drawing.

“Eric,” you tasted his name on your lips quietly. It grated on him, the way you spoke as if you already knew him, already had him all figured out. “You’re an artist, huh? I bet you’re all dark and broody, right? The strong, silent type?”

His jaw tightened, his pencil pressing a little too hard against the paper. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, but he could feel your words digging right under his skin. Dark and brooding? Strong and silent? You didn’t know anything about him, didnt understand the darkness that lingered in the corners of his mind, the weight of the silence he carried, yet here you were, already trying to pin him down with labels. And typically, Eric didn’t care what anyone else here labeled him with, but your unnervingly amicable voice was something he wasn’t used to. It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. It was annoying. 

Your words struck a nerve. He remained quiet, instead choosing to focus on the shading in the corner of his page, tried to drown out the sound of your voice, but he knew his silence was betraying him. The tension in his jaw, the way his grip on the pencil tightened – it all gave him away, and he could almost feel you noticing it, filing it away for later. God, why couldn’t you just leave him alone? 

Then you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper for only his ears to hear. “You know, I think you want to get into trouble. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours before he could stop himself, his heart racing at the sudden intensity in your eyes. And there was something in your gaze that unsettled him. Annoyance flared up first, hot and defensive. But beneath that, he felt a flicker of . . . curiosity. And he hated that too – hated that you were getting under his skin. What the hell did you even know about him? What gave you the right to pry into his life, his thoughts.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he retorted, his voice sharper than he intended, the words escaping in a rush of defensiveness. 

You shrugged, unbothered by his tone, a playful smile tugging on your lips. “Maybe not yet, but I’m good at figuring people out. And I think you’re bored out of your mind here, just like me. You’re dying for something – anything – to happen.”

Eric shook his head, forcing himself to look back down at his sketch. “You’re wrong.” 

Even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, and that only served to deepen his irritation. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, stretching your arms overhead, and Eric resisted the urge to glance up. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a little fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to respond, but something about your persistence was unraveling him bit by bit. “That's what got us in here in the first place. 

You paused, and for a second, Eric thought maybe he had finally shut you up. He looked up and caught a flicker of something else in your expression, something serious that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. But just like that, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating grin. 

“Maybe,” you said, your voice softer, thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy. “But maybe that’s what will get us out of here too.”

Eric watched as you slid off the table, landing lightly on the ground. For a moment, he thought you might actually leave him alone, and the relief that washed over him was sweet. But then you turned back, hands stuffed into the pocket of that oversized sweatshirt, your grin still in place – though it didn’t seem to reach your eyes quite the same as before. 

“See you around, Eric,” you said before sauntering off, as if you didn’t just turn his whole world upside down in a matter of a few minutes. 

He stared after you, watching as you kicked at the feet of another unsuspecting patient who grumbled at you as you passed. His mind raced, his drawing forgotten, the lines and shadows now blurring together in an indistinct mess. He hated how you so easily managed to disrupt his carefully-constructed isolation, how you made him think about things he thought he’d buried a long time ago. He wanted to believe you were just another reckless newbie, just another faceless patient in a sea of addicts who would burn out soon enough. But something in the pit of his gut told him you were different – something he couldn’t shake. 

In the silence that followed your departure, Eric was left to grapple with the realization that the trouble you brought was not just a disruption, but a catalyst for change, a challenge to his solitude. And now as he returned to his meaningless drawing, he wondered briefly if perhaps your indelible, chaotic presence was exactly what he needed to rewrite his own story in the hell hole. 

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

Tagging some of you who seemed interested!

@apolloanddaphnis @one-of-thewalkingdead @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @redwitchbitch1 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @mrsalwayswrite

[kingkat12]

can i watch? (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, masturbation, voyeurism, sub-ish!roman, praise-kink, fluff lol

summary: who would've thought Roman would be okay with you watching him jerk off?

word count: 1,050

a/n: celebrating 200 followers with this little drabble!! love u guys omg i'm screaming?? thank u thank u thank u!!!!!<33

When I finally caved and told Roman my deepest, most embarrassing wish in bed, I never dreamt that he would actually be into it.

Then again, this was Roman— I should’ve expected that he’d be up for absolutely everything.

He had one arm around me as he occasionally turned his head to press sweet kisses against my jaw. Roman’s green eyes sparkled with both intrigue and want, unable to take his eyes off the way my lips parted at the sight before me. There was no way to contain my astoundment— he was so pretty. Way too damn pretty.

It was damn near impossible not to revel in the sight; the way Roman worked his fingers around his cock, and the way small drops of pre-cum would gather at the pink tip and fall down along his length. I definitely never thought he’d say yes to this, but here he was, letting me watch him get off. It had always been a bit of a fantasy of mine, despite not being able to put my finger on exactly why. It was something about the way his lashes fluttered, heavy with the weight of pleasure, as his chest raised with small, almost inaudible gasps for air.

I reached out to run my fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. If I stared at it all for too long, I was afraid I’d not be able to let him finish alone as I had asked him to. My heart fluttered as I heard Roman groan softly against my lips, his breathing growing heavier and laboured.

“It’s cute that you— ah, wanted this,” Roman murmured, kissing my cheek in the process as I watched his cock twitch in his fist. “Unexpected.”

I hummed, my fingers ghosting over his chest in soothing motions. “I’ve thought about you like this many times,” I decided that I'd straight-up confess; there was no going back anymore. "Especially when we first started dating... It was always on my mind."

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Leaning down to leave several wet kisses against his neck, I could only smile as I heard Roman’s breath hitch; a rarity. “Always wondered what you’d look like when you were all alone.”

Roman had to slow down, letting out a shaky breath. It was intense to see him like this— it wasn’t always that I could get a proper look at him during sex. But now? Oh my. “I always think about you when I do this, y’know?” he said, pressing a kiss against the shell of my ear which had shivers running down my spine within seconds. 

I could already feel my blush creeping up my cheeks, turning to meet his keen, green gaze. “You do?”

“Always,” Roman's kisses trailed down, now softly nipping at my jaw. “How you moan when I fuck you… And the way you look when you cum, the way you feel around my cock... Shit, I— I could go on?”

Something about getting Roman talking was intriguing. He was always such a fucking enigma, so who was I to deny a little peek beyond his curtain of mysteries? “And how do I look when I cum?” I asked, suppressing a giggle; it was certainly not a question I thought I would be asking any time soon. Actually, everything about this situation made me want to squeal like a little girl and jump him, completely thrilled that he was doing this for me. 

The memory of my walls flutterings around his cock seemed to really do it for Roman— he closed his eyes, his grip around his length tightening as he threw his head back against the pillow. “So fucking hot,” he breathed, now rambling. “You— You always get a little louder, and then you usually cling to me a little harder… And your nails dig into my back as you moan my name, and— Oh, fuck!” He quickly let go of himself, panting as he glanced down to check whether he had been too late or not.

My eyes were wide with love and adoration, unable to look away from the sight of him completely and utterly unraveled. Hearing Roman say these things about me was making my heart flutter in ways it had never done before—The fact that he thought about me like this, that it made him this hot and bothered… I was afraid my brain would melt from the heat. “You’re doing so good,” I cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss against Roman’s forehead as my fingers stroked through his tousled hair.

With that, he let out a sound that sounded an awful lot like a whimper; “Don’t say it like that,” he breathed, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re killing me here.”

I looked down just in time to see his cock twitch once more, along with Roman’s hand immediately returning to his aching need. Something told me I had struck gold; I pressed my lips against his temple, giving his hair a gentle tug as I spoke; “You’re doing so good for me, Rome,”

Roman bit his lip, hoping to suppress his next shaky breath. “Shut up,”

“Such a good boy,” I didn’t even try to hide the smirk that spread across my lips as I watched Roman’s hips buck up into his hand, pre-cum dripping down all over his long fingers. 

“Yeah?” he whimpered, a grunt following as he surrendered. I knew Roman was close by the way he sped up, his body tensing with anticipation as his lips parted in pleasure.

This was almost too much for me as well, the hard beating of my heart giving away my own arousal. “You’re perfect,” I breathed, leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek.

I wasn’t sure whether it was a whimper or a groan that Roman let out, but as his hips bucked up into his fist once more, I pulled away to watch thick ropes of cum seep out of his cock, decorating his toned lower abdomen. Roman threw his head back, letting out a rather breathy moan as his cock twitched, the last remnants leaking down his shaft. 

I held my breath as I watched the scene before me, the whole image of it etching itself into my brain. “Rome, holy fuck,” I knew I was definitely going to replay this in my head in times of need. 

Definitely.

(a/n: cue the inspo lol)

[enchantresss97]

New Look +18

Characters: Bill Skarsgård x reader

Description: After a month apart, Bill invited you at his new movie premiere in New York, but he looks—different. The transformation leaves you breathless, igniting a fire between you both.

Warning: mature theme, SMUT, language, sex, fingering.

Word count: 3060

A/N: So, after yesterday's premiere and Bill's new look, this is a must. As I said before, I think this look of his is my favorite of all. He looks so damn good, so fucking handsome… So, fresh out of the oven, I present to you todays story. I simply couldn't resist. Hope you'll enjoy it.

New Look

It’s been a month since you last saw him. Since you last touched him. You’d FaceTimed, texted, called late into the night, but nothing compared to having him here, right in front of you.

New York is alive tonight. Flashing lights, clicking cameras, the murmur of fans crowding behind barriers. All of it blurs together as you step onto the red carpet, heels clicking against the pavement.

Bill stands a few feet away, caught in the storm of photographers and interviewers, his posture effortless yet commanding. But it’s not just the usual premiere chaos that has your breath catching.

It’s him.

Your breath catches. He looks… different. His thick, beautiful hair is gone, the hair you used to tug on when you kissed him, the thick strands he always ran his fingers through. Gone. The buzz cut sharpens every angle of his face, the brutal structure of his jaw, his cheekbones, his big green eyes. And his body…

Your fingers twitch at your sides. The lean frame you were used to has changed. His suit fits him like a damn glove, hugging his shoulders and chest in ways that make your stomach tighten. He’s filled out, broader, heavier in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

He hasn’t seen you yet, too busy charming the cameras, flashing that easy grin that makes the whole world swoon. But when he finally does catch your gaze over the chaos, his smirk deepens just slightly. The flicker of amusement. If recognition, sends a shiver down your spine.

You barely get a word in. A brush of fingers as he walks past. A murmured, “Hey, baby.” Then he’s gone again, swallowed up by flashing cameras and eager reporters.

It’s not until the after-party that you finally get him to yourself.

The venue is dimly lit, buzzing with music and laughter. Champagne flows freely, and conversations blur into a hazy hum. But all of that fades the moment you feel his presence behind you.

“I was looking for you” He said with his lips dip close to your ear.

You swallow, still speechless about his new look.

“You’re different,” you murmur, voice lower than intended.

He hums, crowding you subtly against the bar. “Good different?”

You wet your lips, still trying to process it, but your body already knows the answer. You feel warm, hot, even. A different kind of heat from the one in your cheeks.

His eyes drop to your mouth as he invades your space, close enough that the scent of him, clean, warm, unmistakably Bill floods your senses. “Cat got your tongue, baby?” His voice is thick with amusement.

You turn slightly, meeting his gaze, heartbeat thrumming. “Maybe I was just admiring the view.”

His lips quirk. He leans in just a fraction more, enough that his mouth nearly brushes your skin when he speaks. “That so?”

Your pulse jumps. You should play it coy, tease him like you always do but instead, you tilt your chin up, fingers grazing the lapel of his jacket. “You look…” Your voice drops, just for him. “So fucking good.”

His breath hitches. His eyes darken.

And then, before you can push him further, he straightens, stepping back just enough for others to hear when he says, “Can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”

You excuse yourself from your friends saying you’re coming back soon. Smiling and letting him take your hand, and he leads you away from the noise, down a quiet hallway.

Your heart hammers as he nudges open a door, pulling you into the dimly lit room. A private lounge, empty and waiting. The moment the door clicks shut, he’s on you.

His mouth crashes against yours, raw and hungry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You gasp into him, fingers threading into the remnants of his hair,feeling a strange sensation now, nails scraping lightly over his scalp. He groans, deep and low, pressing you against the nearest wall.

When you finally break apart, your breath is ragged. “So,” you murmur, eyes locked on his, “what did you want to show me?”

His lips brush over your jaw, trailing lower, voice thick with heat when he finally answers.

“How much I’ve fucking missed you.”

Your stomach clenches. Heat floods through you, pooling deep.

His hands tighten on your hips, his mouth ghosting over yours again, teasing. “Needed to get you out of there,” he murmurs, “because I need to feel you.”

You barely manage a breath before his lips claim yours again. Deep, slow, and devastating.

The second his body presses into yours, a shudder runs through you. It’s not just the heat, not just the weight of him. It’s everything.

The absence. The waiting. The quiet ache of missing him in the dead of night, of longing for the warmth of his skin, the feel of his mouth moving against yours.

Bill exhales sharply, his breath warm as his lips trail along your jaw. “A month,” he murmurs, voice rough. “A fucking month.”

His fingers dig into your waist, like he still can’t believe you’re here, beneath him, solid and real. You tilt your head back, exposing your throat, and his lips latch onto the skin there, desperate, needy.

“I thought about this every night,” you admit, voice thick, barely more than a breath. “About you. About your hands on me.”

A quiet groan rumbles through him, his nose brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “You have no idea,” he murmurs. “How much I needed this. How much I needed you.”

Your hands explore him, tracing over muscle, over the solid weight of him, over his arms, broader than before. He feels different. Stronger, heavier but still so familiar. You arch beneath him, pressing yourself closer, needing more.

Bill’s lips hover just above yours, his big green eyes dark, hazy with heat. His breath comes hard, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he takes you in. Like he’s trying to memorize you all over again.

And his lips. God, those full lips. You’ve spent a month missing them, dreaming about them, and now they’re so close, so warm, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing the way only he can.

“Touch me,” you whisper. “I need to feel you.”

His fingers slide down, tracing the bare skin of your thigh, pushing higher, pushing your dress up, his breath growing heavier. “I know, baby,” he murmurs. “I know.”

His fingers glide over your thigh, slow and deliberate, tracing delicate patterns along your skin. The warmth of his touch sends shivers up your spine, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room.

Then Bill’s fingers linger at the edge of your panties, teasing, torturing, his touch light enough to leave you desperate. You try to move against him, but he stops you, holding you in place with a gentle, commanding pressure.

His lips trail along your jaw, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. “I can feel how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick, like he’s savoring the way your body responds to him.

You swallow hard, unable to hold back the soft whimper that slips from your lips. “Baby, please.” you breathe.

He groans softly at your words, his thumb brushing the wetness through the lace, sending a wave of electricity coursing through you. “Yeah, baby? You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you” His fingers press harder, his grip tightening on your pussy. “Waiting for me to touch you like this again.”

You nod, panting now, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

Bill’s lips brush against yours, soft, barely there. Just a tease. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, his fingers sliding down to finally slip beneath the fabric, inserting one finger inside you, his touch warm, rough. “I was thinking so much about how fucking perfect you feel around me” he said introducing another digit.

You gasp as his fingers press deeper, his touch slow and deliberate, exploring, pushing you further into the rush of sensation. You’ve never needed him more than you do now, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to make you feel every inch of him.

His thumb circles your clit, slow, purposeful, his other hand gripping your waist like he’s afraid you might slip away. But there’s no chance of that. You’re completely at his mercy.

“Bill…” you gasp, your hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails biting into his skin.

“I know how much you’ve been craving this. How much you’ve missed me.” He murmurs, his fingers move faster now, his thumb pressing with just the right amount of pressure.

Every stroke, every movement has you gasping for air, your body tightening with need.

“You feel so good, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been wanting this,” he growls, his green eyes dark with lust, his breath a rasp against your lips. “I’ve thought about this so many times, baby... Been so fucking long since the last time I felt your tight pussy dripping on my fingers”

His lips crash into yours, your body flooding with warmth as his fingers continue to drive you crazy.

There’s nothing but him, nothing but the way he makes you feel. Touched, wanted, like you’re the only thing that matters in that moment.

It’s like everything inside of you snaps at once, your body tensing as an intense wave of pleasure crashes over you. A deep, trembling release takes over, and you gasp, your hands clutching at him, your nails digging into his skin as you ride out the pleasure.

Bill’s thumb doesn’t stop, pushing you through the waves, guiding you to the peak, keeping you there, making sure you feel every moment. You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in shaky bursts, but you don’t want it to stop.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his fingers moving in time with your body, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you. “Come for me. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

When the last tremor fades, you collapse against him, completely spent, your body trembling in his arms. The world feels hazy, but Bill’s presence keeps you anchored. He holds you, his hand caressing your back, making sure you’re safe, still with him.

Bill pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. With a firm, possessive grip, he spins you around, positioning you so your hands brace against the cold wall in front of you. You’re bent over slightly, facing the wall, your chest heaving as your pulse races to catch up.

You feel exposed. Vulnerable. But you also feel the tension between your legs building again. Bill’s gaze lingers on you, taking in every inch of your body, before he moves closer, his body pressing into yours from behind. You can feel the heat of him, the hardness of his cock against you as his hands slide over your hips, pulling you closer to him.

His breath is warm against the back of your neck, his lips trailing gently along your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “I need to be inside you baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough, just a whisper in your ear that sends a wave of heat to your core.

His fingers slide between your thighs, gently parting them as he takes his time, making you ache all over again. His touch is slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring each moment, each inch of your body. You feel yourself getting wetter, your body betraying you as it begs for him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter, urging you to push back against him. “Missed this. Missed you.” and with one slow, deliberate motion, he enters you from behind. The feeling of him filling you completely, slowly. Is enough to make you gasp, your body still trembling from the previous release, but your hips pushing back toward him as if you need him to claim you once more.

His hands grip your hips, holding you still as he thrusts into you slowly, teasingly, making you feel every inch of his cock. The sensation is almost too much, the raw connection between you both almost unbearable.

“God, you feel so fucking incredible,” Bill mutters, his voice low and guttural. He pulls back, only to slam into you harder, his hands steady on your hips as he moves with a rhythm that makes you lose yourself completely.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he slams into you harder, faster. The sound of his body slapping against yours fills the air, raw and desperate. You can’t stop yourself from pushing back against him, meeting every thrust with equal hunger. Every movement is a reminder of how much you’ve missed him. How much you’ve missed this.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.” he groans, his voice thick with lust.

You let out a breathless moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Bill… I…fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” you whimper, the words coming out in a rush as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making your body shake with need.

Bill’s hands move up your body, grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck. You feel his lips trail down the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin as his body pounds into you from behind, relentless. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your knees tremble, struggling to keep you upright.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he growls, his voice low and commanding, as if he’s trying to claim you in every way possible. “I need to feel you so fucking much.” His hands grip you even tighter, and he thrusts harder, deeper, pushing you further into the wall. The sound of his words, the heat in his voice, sends a wave of excitement through you, and you can feel yourself on the edge again.

“Bill, please… I need you to…” you cut yourself off with a sharp moan as he changes his angle, hitting a spot that makes your whole body tremble.

“You need me, huh?” he mutters in your ear, his breath hot and urgent against your skin. “You want me to fuck you hard until you can’t walk tomorrow?”

Your body trembles at his words, the filthy promise making you ache even more. “Yes,” you gasp, unable to stop yourself from giving in to him completely. “Yes, baby. I need it. I want you. Holy fuck!”

Bill pulls your hips back harder, forcing you to take every inch of him as he slams into you with no mercy. You’re lost in him, your mind spinning with lust, your body taken over by the raw intensity of his touch. He leans forward, his chest pressed against your back, and his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, biting down sharply as he keeps fucking you hard.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls, his voice rough, low, full of heat.

You moan loudly, your words a breathless confession. “I want you so fucking bad, baby… Make me come again…”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. With a deep, savage thrust, he drives you into the wall, hitting the spot that makes you scream out in pleasure. Your fingers claw at the wall for support as your body jerks with the force of your orgasm. The pleasure crashes through you, raw and untamed, making your legs go weak as you shudder against him.

But Bill doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. His hands grip your waist even harder, lifting you slightly to give him better leverage, making you to stay on your toes, and then he’s fucking you harder than ever. You’re almost numb with pleasure, your body writhing under him as his rough thrusts push you closer to another climax.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re gonna make me come so much. I need to feel you fucking squeeze my cock.” His words are filthy, possessive, and it only makes you want him more. You cry out, your body shuddering against the wall as he drives you into oblivion.

“Bill,” you gasp, breathless. “Please baby.” You moan loudly.

He groans deeply, his hands pulling you back, forcing you to take him deeper, harder. The pressure builds again, your body already sensitive from the last orgasm, but your body is begging for more. You feel him, deep inside you, his cock moving with a frantic need, and you feel the tension in your stomach coil tighter.

With a final, powerful thrust, you explode again, your body shaking with release, your nails digging into the wall as your orgasm crashes over you. Bill groans your name, his hips stuttering as he finally comes with you, his fingers gripping your hips desperately as he fills you, each spasm of his body sending waves of pleasure through yours.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both of you breathless, spent, and tangled in each other’s arms. Bill’s hands gently move up your back, holding you against him, still deep inside you as you both catch your breath. He places soft kisses along your neck, his lips still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment.

You let out a slow, raspy laugh, your body still trembling, feeling lightheaded from everything that just happened. The sound is soft at first, but it slowly grows into something more, a soft, breathless giggle escaping your lips. You don’t know if it’s from the overwhelming pleasure or just the sheer release of tension, but you can’t help yourself.

Bill’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile as he brushes your hair away from your neck, his breath still ragged. “If I’d known cutting my hair would lead to this,” he murmurs, his voice still heavy with lust, “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

You laugh again, the sound husky, more from desire than anything else. “You look even better now,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “I think I like you more this way.”

Bill chuckles, the sound deep and low. His fingers gently caress your back, as if he can’t get enough of touching you. “Good,” he says softly, his voice still thick with the weight of the moment. “Because it stays.”

[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

[crowsofdarkness]

Cock drunk for Eric Draven.

18+ CW’s BELOW THE CUT(unprotected p in v, Eric claiming what’s his with his cum, Eric cleaning up his own mess).

*wrote this on my phone so I apologize for any mistakes*

My mewls of exhausted pleasure were drowned out by the sounds of skin slapping against skin and a shared wetness between us. My body was drained of all energy but I continued to pull Eric closer to me, needing his warmth to bring life back into my soul. I scratched at the tattoos littering his chest, trying to grab onto anything I could and I felt the vibrations of his laugh underneath my palms.

“What’s the matter, crow? Can’t take it anymore?” He taunted while dragging his cock all the way out of my cunt, expect for the head as he began fucking me with it.

I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, but I didn’t want it to stop.

“Please, Eric,” I mustered. “Need your cum.”

“Again? I’ve already marked you all over; these perfect tits.”

His fingers pinched and pulled at my nipples.

“All over this neck,” his fingers now dragged over the dried cum that covered my throat.

Eric slipped his cock out of me and I whined while reaching for him only for him to smack my hands away. Through slits, I watched as his face hovered over my cunt, swollen with need, and his warm breath fanned over it as he spoke.

“I covered this pretty pussy with my cum,” his tongue darted out to lick up the dried cum that was mixed with our fresh arousal.

The entire scene he was bathed in a glow of muted yellows from the lights of our loft apartment, the busy city life all but white noise outside. Eric looked down right disgusting as he devoured me, not caring he was tasting himself. Anything to bring me pleasure.

And I loved him even more for it.

“Think you have one more for me?” He asked while lining his cock up with my pussy again.

I shook my head but that didn’t seem to please him because he laid a swift smack to my clit and I cried out.

“You will give me one more beautiful orgasm and let me cover that tight asshole with my cum,” Eric demanded as he fully seated himself inside of me again.

I couldn’t. There was no way I’d be able to give him a fifth orgasm. My body physically couldn’t. Eric had fucked me in every position possible, his stamina stronger than mine. The last orgasm, I was ordered to sit on his cock and use it as my own personal toy while he lounged against the couch smoking a cigarette. That one had taken everything out of me so I didn’t have hopes I’d be able to cum again.

Yet when Eric’s thumb pressed against my clit, I felt the all too familiar burn at the back of my neck and my body began to lock up underneath his large form. He continued to piston his cock into me, hitting the spot he’d become so familiar with tonight.

“Eric,” I choked out. “I’m gonna-.”

“That’s right, baby. Cum all over my cock,” his voice was muffled as he burried his face deep in the crook of my neck. “Make a mess all over me.”

This time I didn’t cry out in ecstasy. It was silent, throat gone raw from all the times before, and Eric fucked me through ever single shock to my body. Then hastily, he pulled himself out to fold my lower half over me and grabbed his cock with a tight grip. Three long strokes was all it took for him to cover the lining of my asshole with his warm cum; finally marking everything that was his.