#bill skarsgard fanfiction

[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

[m9ntreal]

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.

[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)

[babygorewhore]

His pet.

Eric Draven x fem reader blurb.

Eric comes home after a massacre and you show him how grateful you are.

Written for my soulmate, @xxbimbobunnyxx

Warnings! Mentions of death! Violence! Blood! Boot riding! Daddy kink! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Hair pulling! Light choking! Dom! Eric! New character I write for ;) Surprise.

“Eric?” You breathe as he steps into the apartment. He’s covered in blood, body twitching with aching muscles as his tattoos glimmer from crimson.

Makeup is smeared on his beautiful face, his green eyes on fire as you approach him slowly. You take his hand, memorized by how hot he looks even wearing the carnage of his victims.

You place his hand on your hip and he immediately pulls you close.

“You smell good.” He breaths and you shudder as his long fingers trace your skin.

You guide him to sit down, not caring about the condition of the sofa as he spreads his legs. You kneel down, pulling aside your underwear and set yourself on his black boot.

Eric peers down at you as you roll your hips steadily and rest your hands on his thighs. “That’s my pretty little pet, can’t wait for me to clean this blood off huh?”

You whimper as he adjusts his ankle, giving you extra friction as you further hump his boot. He gives you a half smirk, reaching down to pop a long digit past your lips.

You flick your tongue, tasting the remaining blood and he grits his teeth.

“That’s my girl. Dirty little thing tasting blood. Are you going to be a good whore and cum on daddy’s boot?” He asks and you bob your head, eyes wide as he bounces his foot.

Eric removes his finger, lightly cupping your jaw and sliding his hand to grip your throat. “Ride my boot. Give me all that cum,” he commands and you circle your pelvis.

You whimper and claw at his leg as you start to cream on the black leather. He bite his lip in satisfaction and Eric nods.

“You made a mess, Angel. Now, lick it clean.” He softly speaks and you eagerly lift up. You go to all fours and slowly clean his boot clean with your tongue.

He allows you to make it shine and pulls you up by underneath your arms. You gasp as he sets you down on his lap, managing to tug his pants and boxers down.

You lick the blood stain on his neck, making him shudder and grunt as he smacks your ass. You set yourself firmly on his dick and begin moving. Eric catches your lips in a searing kiss, his full mouth coated in death as he sensually savors you.

“Mmmm, fuck my dick, pretty girl. Cream on me with that greedy pussy.” He growls and your nipples harden.

Your hands move to his chest, digging your nails in as pleasure coils your stomach. Eric tugs your head back by your hair, admiring the way your pulse elevates.

“Uh huh, that’s it. That’s my girl, come on. You can take it. Take all my cock,” He encourages you and you let out a low whine.

Your lips part and Eric gives you a particular hard thrust. Your climax hits you again and he meets it. His cum spills in your cunt, gushing out of the sides and drip onto his skin.

“Milk it dry,” Eric barks with a sudden aggression and you obey him. Overwhelmed and nearly sobbing from how good it feels.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, pet. You’re not getting away from me.” Eric promises and lifts you up. Storming into the bedroom and kicking the door shut.

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @taintandviolent

[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

[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

[janicekao]

Fear

Pairing: Pennywise/Bill Skarsgard x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Going after his next victim: a little boy named Booker Jones, Pennywise the clown becomes intrigued by his older sister instead, and no... what he is hungry for is not her fear. Warnings: Horror, violence, entity, monster, monster s3x, rough s3x, dub!con, cnc, age gap, dark romance, smut, tummy bulge k!nk, dom&femsub cr3am pie, etc. 7130 words Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 ----------------------------------

Rumors have begun to spread that Pennywise the clown has returned back to Derry.

But who would believe the rumors being that they were coming from kids? Being gossiped around Elementary and Middle schools.

As children started to disappear again, the adults of Derry have also picked up on believing in this rumor, but luckily most of them have common sense.

Although this myth of a supernatural clown has been told in Derry for hundreds of years, the adults have been in contact with the police thinking that instead of something as crazy as a fictitious clown, some insane Pennywise fanatic has entered the town and is preying on children to keep the fable alive.

"He lives in the sewers."

"He can reach you through the drains of your house."

"He can make you hallucinate and you will see awful things to frighten you."

"He survives off of fear."

Sadly, the children are more than right.

Worst of all, they are going unheard. Parents are ignoring them as they search for what makes the most sense to them, a psychotic murderous pedophile on the loose.

And as the adults of Derry waste their time not believing in the supernatural, Pennywise is preparing to strike again.

Booker Jones, an eight year old boy is Pennywise's next victim.

Pennywise has been stalking his dreams, showing up each day at the boy's school, and whispering through the drains of his home.

Pennywise is infatuated with Booker's fear. Each time he plays with the young child's mind, his mouth waters with excitement to devour the boy and absorb his fear to keep him alive.

It's almost time now.

Booker has told his friends and family... But no one believes him. His parents tell him to stop listening to the gossip of the town because of how bad he's getting nightmares now. Little do they know, Pennywise is sizing him and getting his levels of fear exactly where he wants them to be.

Sunday nights are usually Booker's bath nights. Finally ready for Pennywise's taking, the clown plans on slithering inhumanely through the drain and drag Booker to his death into the sewers where Pennywise will consume his fear and let his decaying body be found in the streams that lead out of the tunnels of Derry.

As Pennywise listens into the pipes of the Jones' house, at eight-pm he finally hears the bath running... he knows that his time to feast, is now.

Pennywise slithers quietly through the pipes, opening his eyes in the sudsy lukewarm water as he expects to see the tiny feet and draggable legs of an eight year old boy...

The clown nearly gasps, almost choking on water as the gaze of his eyes latch onto the spread legs of a young woman...

Confusion takes over his mind, never once has he ever had to take a pause during one of his killings.

Still watching from the impossibly deep pits of the filled tub, Pennywise watches long brown legs soak in the sweetly fragrant bath. The girl's toes are painted a light pink and she taps her feet lightly to what seems to be music coming from her headphones.

What disgruntles Pennywise the most is the powers coming from between her thighs... he even momentarily begins to think that maybe, just maybe, she could be a supernatural herself.

Pennywise is hungry... Usually for fear, but this time, for a taste of the soft flesh between her legs.

Peaking out of the water for just a moment, he craves to see the face of the enchanting creature.

The girl nods her head to the rhythm of the music, luckily eyes closed as she relaxes... Because if they opened, they'd view upon the gray crumbling skin, patchy red hair, and demonic yellow eyes of Pennywise, and surely would die of a heart attack on the spot.

Pennywise is puzzled by her beauty...

Full dark brown curls drenching at the ends as she soaks in the water, face red and blushing due to the humidity of the bathroom, full lips, long eyelashes, and breasts large... nipples upturned and beaming with water droplets...

Fucking hell...

She isn't a child... no, she isn't a child at all.

What Pennywise didn't realize about Booker Jones, is that he has a sister. Quinn Jones, an older sister, age twenty, and home from college for Summer Break.

Tonight won't be the night for feeding after all... However, Pennywise can't leave without a taste, of something.

Seeping back into the drain, the clown's unbelievably long snake-like tongue slithers between Quinn's legs, swiping a powerful lick that goes from the crack of her bottom, through her folds, and to the delicious flesh of her clit.

She immediately gasps. Breath hitched in her throat as her eyes dart open. She flips her headphones from off of the top of her head and frantically kicks her legs, searching for what violated her in such way... however, the bath is empty.

As Pennywise ventures back into the sewers, the taste of Quinn stays on his tongue... a taste that he will forever crave until his dying day.

—•—

Pennywise paces the sewers, mind full of thoughts about the girl.

He isn't used to this feeling... and being an evil entity born Before Christ, he doesn't understand why after all these years, obstacles are now getting into his way?

He hears the snickering of preteens walking through the sewers with flashlights, probably dared by each other to see who is the bravest to meet the myth of Pennywise...

Sadly for the youngins, there is fear that Pennywise needs to feast upon, and once they lay eyes upon his stature of eight-feet tall, his dingy and torn clown costume, and his shards of glass like teeth, fear is exactly what they will have plenty of.

Pennywise tears them to shreds, consuming each drop of their fear. Finally becoming full and energized, he can prepare to tackle the obstacle known as Quinn Jones.

For the first time ever, Pennywise doesn't want to cause fright. He is so curious about the beauty that he just wants to be around her, to know her... However, if push comes to shove, killing her works just as well.

But to get close to the girl without her fleeing from him, he can not appear to her as a clown...

He once would appear human at times around the town of Derry, in his opinion his human form is a handsome man...

But being that the last time he tried this appearance was nearly sixty years ago, it's probably best to appear as something the girl could be attracted to nowadays.

He will have to appear as young as she is. In his twenties, charming, handsome, less forehead, less evil grin, and just more modern all together.

Contorting his appearance into what he needs to be, he finally becomes satisfied with his look as he stares at his reflection in the shard of a broken mirror, dumped in the sewers like the rest of the trash around him.

"This'll do." He finally agrees with what he sees. "This'll do just fine."

—•—

Before being able to show himself, Pennywise wants to be familiar with the girl he plans on meeting.

What does a clown who only knows of murder know about charming a girl?

For weeks of the summer, Pennywise quietly stalks Quinn until he knows her every detail.

Quinn even begins to think that her little brother's irrational fear of Pennywise the clown is rubbing off on her, ever since she's been home she sees the clown in her dreams...

He fills her every thought and at night as she sleeps, Quinn even feels him in the corner of her room.

She thinks that she's just going crazy, but she is far from crazy. Pennywise is using his abilities to infiltrate Quinn's mind, as he does his victims. But instead of frightening her, he just wants her to know of his existence.

Finally mustering up the courage to meet Quinn, things go surprisingly smoother than Pennywise could ever have expected.

In his new appearance, Pennywise purposely runs into her as she grocery shops dinner for her family. He compliments her, asks about the music she is listening to in her headphones, and lies that they are too his favorite band.

He enjoys speaking with her for the very first time... It is like a breath of fresh air.

Pennywise introduces himself to the girl as "Bill", a twenty-seven year old accountant who is interested in taking her out on a date.

Impressed by the man's charm and their almost impossible similarities, Quinn quickly accepts.

Over weeks of hanging out with each other daily, a bond has began to grow. They trust each other and Pennywise enjoys hearing her talk for as long as she wants to.

Each day that he picks her up from the Jones' residence, Quinn's blushing cheeks proves each time that his plan is working, it proves that the girl is crushing on him as much as Pennywise is crushing on her.

A month of knowing each other passes quickly being that the two have become immediately infatuated with each other.

Today, to celebrate a month together, Pennywise has planned a night at a drive in movie theater... a perfect place for romance, and to also scope out the scenery for potential children he can feasts upon when he's ready to.

Wearing a brown mesh dress that fits her body to perfection and compliments her mahogany skin beautifully, Quinn answers Pennywise's knock to her front door.

Pennywise can barely speak... Awed by her beauty, he can barely breathe.

She smiles. "Do I look okay?"

Voice sweet as candy, his heart begins to melt.

"Yes Quinn." He gulps. "More than okay, absolutely perfect."

She blushes. Quinn reaches up on the tips of her heels to place a kiss on the cheek of his handsome face.

She accepts his flowers. "Happy one month, Bill."

—•—

As Pennywise discretely digs through the wallets of his previous victims, he also drives a stolen car.

He impresses the girl with his willingness to care for her, to pay for all of their dates... although nothing that he has belongs to him, not even his own appearance.

Parked in front of the large movie screen, the two share a bucket of popcorn.

Pennywise listens to Quinn as she talks about her last year of college coming up in August. She'll then graduate and become a local Elementary School Teacher here in Derry.

As if she were made just for him. Pennywise's lips nearly begin to drool. Oh what perfect career for her... this way they'll never be apart, she can bring him the kids, and he absorbs their fear.

Curious with her thoughts on the rumored clown of Derry, Pennywise brings it up in conversation, wondering will he forever have to keep up with this appearance around her, or if one day she can accept him as he is.

"Like most adults, I don't believe in entities and things that just don't make practical sense." She shrugs. "But ever since I've been home in Derry, I too have had many thoughts of this clown... it started with my little brother's nightmares, he was sure this evil clown was out to get him... So as a big sister would, I comforted him, calmed his nerves, and reminded him that everything would be okay. But recently, something tells me that the myth of the clown may be true. It's like I can feel him, like he's always near to me... Like I know him personally."

Quinn smiles, shrugging off the goosebumps caused by just the thought of Pennywise the clown. "But honestly there is something else I'd rather talk to you about..."

Chomping on a hand full of popcorn, Pennywise agrees. "Sure, go ahead."

"Bill..." She gulps. "We've been seeing each other for a month now, and I'm a bit confused on where we stand... I go back to school in a month, I'd just like to know if I'm going back single, or is this something... more?"

Pennywise frowns.

Has he not been clear?

"You're mine." The only words he can conjure up at the thought of Quinn seeing anyone else.

Blush heating her cheeks, she accepts his answer with the prettiest smile. "I can be yours."

He nods. "Good."

Taking the popcorn to the floor of the car, Quinn reaches over to kiss Pennywise. Their lips meet, and their affection and adoration for each other melts into each of their breaths.

Although they have taken things very slow over summer, they still have had a few gentle kisses every now and then. But Pennywise realizes that this kiss is a bit different...

Quinn moans into his full lips, body closing in on him in the driver seat of the car as she clearly hungers for more.

His heart begins to beat out of his chest and his human form suffers with keeping up with the seducing kiss.

Pulling away from her, Pennywise watches her almost startled, confused by the bite she has to her full bottom lip yet his pants grow as she squirms in needy arousal.

He gulps. "Quinn, the movie?"

"I'd rather watch you." Her voice drips with seduction as her hand unzips the front of his pants.

Quinn calms his worry as her other hand caresses the back of his neck gently. "If I'm yours, let me take care of you Bill."

He watches puzzled, with a racing heartbeat, however he allows Quinn to do whatever she wants with him.

Quinn gracefully tucks her full mane of curls onto the other side of her shoulder as she bows into his lap.

Her lips line with his up-turned erection as she sweetly kisses the tip of his cock, staining it with her pink strawberry flavored lipgloss.

Staring down at his handsomely perfect member, thoughts of having him inside her chokes her mind. The best looking cock she's ever seen in her life, for now she'll satisfy her hunger with just his taste.

Hallowing out her cheeks, Quinn takes him fully into her mouth. Slowly wetting his cock with her spit as she gently tugs his shaft lubed with her drool.

Breaths caught in Pennywise's throat as he watches his sweetheart take him completely in her throat. Her delicious moans and sweetly scented perfume plagues his mind, he can't control the groans coming from the depths of his stomach.

She feels fucking perfect to him. Willing to choke herself to tears for his pleasure, he knows that he absolutely loves the girl.

As Quinn continues to slurp, stroke, and suck, Pennywise can't control the bucking of his hips. Gently fucking into her throat at the rhythm that he needs.

Quinn opens her eyes, peering up at him with her innocent doll like eyes as she slaps his cock on her drooling wet tongue.

His eyes roll back into his skull.. "Quinn.." He gulps. "Honey I—"

Forcing him deeper into her throat, Quinn inhales his balls along with the entirety of his cock.

Coughing and dripping mascara as her only care is to bring him to a pleasured finish

Fucking hell... he can't take it. Never having this sense of pleasure in his impossibly long lifetime, he feels the need to explode.

Noticing her deep arch in the passenger seat of the car, Pennywise can't help but to run his hand onto her firm backside, slapping her ass as she sucks his cock with absolute perfection.

His mouth hangs ajar as the pressure to cum continues to build. Stomach tightened as he listens to her intoxicating chokes and moans, he can't hold out any longer.

Quinn takes him into her throat once more as he blows his load.

He shouts a pleasured groan as the cum bursts streams into her mouth and down her pretty chin.

The pleasure is too much for him to handle, Pennywise loses focus on his appearance... and absolutely drops it.

He watches Quinn's satisfied smile turn into eyes of fear as he begins to reveal his truest form.

"P-Pennywise.." The shock causes her face to whiten into a pale fright.

He smiles, the jingle of his bells chiming out of thin air. "Pennywise, The Dancing Clown!"

—•—

Thrashing around in the arms of the clown, Pennywise leaves the car for the nearest city drain.

Crying and shouting to be let go, he doesn't listen to her once.

"Close your eyes." He calmly demands. "It'll hurt a lot less."

Fearing for her life. Quinn tightens her eyes closed as she notices them slipping into the sewer drain.

She knows it's impossible for them to fit and expects to be squashed to death... But underestimating the powers of Pennywise, gets her nowhere. As she opens her eyes, she's surprisingly unharmed and in the sewer tunnels of Derry.

As she's being carried, she notices her dangling legs nowhere near the ground being that her date has grown into a whopping eight feet tall.

As she cries and continues to lash out, Pennywise isn't phased or harmed by her gentle fists. However, he doesn't know how to calm her...

When he's killing for the absorption of fear, he would have snapped his victim's neck by now, but not wanting to hurt Quinn... he's at a loss for a next step.

Taking her to the driest and deepest part of the sewers, he leaves Quinn by herself beside a pile of his victim's belongings.

She becomes a mess of frightened tears as she looks up at the massive pile, noticing the floating children in Pennywise's possession, decaying and have been hanging there for many, many years.

As hours pass, and night darkens.

Pennywise decides to revisit Quinn. He finds her exhausted from tears and asleep in a dirty corner, however he's glad that she is calm.

He never wanted this to happen, but now that he's infatuated with her he can't let her go.

Waking up from her stressful nap, Quinn is startled by his quiet watching in the pipes of the sewer.

Balling herself up into bended knees, she refuses to even look at him.

He jumps down, creating a cloud of dust around him as he lands right in front of her.

"Open your eyes." He demands. "See me as I am."

"As what?" She argues. "Accept that you're Pennywise the clown? Or accept that you're a liar?"

Her smart tongue aggravates him as he forces her into his strict yellow gaze. "Everything I've said, I've meant."

"You're a murderer." Tears of sadness wet her cheeks.

"Don't bring up what you don't understand." He denies being called such things.

"You were after my brother weren't you?" She continues. "You wanted to kill him! Turn him into the children above-"

"But I didn't." He interrupts. "And I won't."

She scoffs. "You have been an entirely different man since I've known you, how am I ever to believe a word that you say!"

"Because you'll just have to trust me." His voice although sensitive to her fear, he is clearly demanding and intimidating. "Do it, because you don't have any other choice to."

Rolling her eyes, clearly heartbroken and confused, Quinn attempts to leave.

Stretching his arm like taffy, Pennywise pulls her back to him from many feet away.

Can't she see that he's inhuman? Whatever she does he can correct without even dropping a bead of sweat.

She can't win, and she never will.

Pennywise softens his stare into something less threatening... He slowly bends to the crook of Quinn's neck, placing gentle kisses on her skin. "I am still me."

Uncomfortable with his caress, Quinn begins to frown.

He continues to press his lips to her body and Quinn quickly realizes that she isn't uncomfortable with his kiss at all, she's uncomfortable with enjoying it... Uncomfortable with still feeling safe with a creature that shouldn't even exist.

Pennywise pulls from his kiss and watches her quiet expression... he feels hopeful, now that she's trembling less and her eyes have softened.

He wants to tell her that he loves her, but it just isn't in his character to say something so forward.

"Do I still call you Bill?"Her voice meek and sweet makes his heart beat loudly.

"Pennywise." He responds.

"Will you take me home Penny?"Pennywise shuts his eyes, soul melting at the cute nickname she has quickly came up for him.

Pennywise becomes hungry, wanting to give her what he received in the car.

"Yes Quinn, you'll go home." He whispers sweetly pressed against her face. "Right after I return the favor."

Tearing the panties from her body, Pennywise pins her wrists above her head.

She gasps, squirming in refusal. "No! Please Pennywise, I don't want that!"

Widening her legs her dripping cunt says otherwise.

Pennywise's insanely long tongue swipes between her thighs as he did the first time he met her.

She gasps, body arching in pleasure... Quinn remembers that feeling immediately. "It was you, i-in the bathtub."

Grinning deviously he nods. "Of course, who else could give you a kiss below like that?"

His mouth returns to her sweet succulent flesh. He's wanted badly to feast on this pussy for so many days now.

Hands forcing her dress above her chest, his eyes widen at her perky breasts... nipples hardened and painfully aroused.

Biting a glove off of his hand, he bites his lip as he enjoys the skin to skin contact of caressing her full bust.

Covering her face, Quinn becomes embarrassed. She tries to cover the moans from her tongue, but Pennywise hears them, Pennywise loves them.

Rolling the bud between his fingers with sudden gentle pinches, Pennywise dives back into her cunt.

His mouth is too good for her, she can't keep still.

He grips her ankles folding her legs to her chest to refuse her from moving his mouth from her pussy.

He circles his tongue around her swollen clit, nipping it to watch her body jolt. He slurps on her every drop of pleasure, swallowing it as if his thirst could never be quenched.

His tongue plows into her pussy, bringing shameful squeals through her begging lips. Tongue long enough to fuck her like a cock, he pushes it in and out of her hole and brings her to tears.

His monstrous cock aches, forced against his tight clown costume, and ready to burst from her taste and squeals alone.

Pennywise's face dug deeply between her thighs, his nose and mouth slide vengefully prodding inside the slick folds of her smooth cunt, forcing her to quake as she pulls on the red strands of his hair.

The clown's eyes shutter closed, rolling back into his skull in pure satisfaction. Mouth usually dripping with blood however tonight dripping with Quinn's sweet nectar.

"Please Pennywise..." Her sweet voice stabs at him. "Will you kill me too?"

"You hush now Quinn, you'll be back in your bed, sleeping the best that you've ever had." Breathless and eager to make her orgasm, Pennywise continues.

She moans... pleasure becoming far too painful for her. "When?!"

"Don't act as if you want me to rush, I can feel how much you're enjoying this Quinn." Nearly offended, he shuts her up with a deep tongue plow against her cervix.

She shouts in pleasure... Ashamed of knowing how incredible his tongue feels, and feeling like an absolute little slut for an evil clown.

However soon he answers her anyway. "You'll go home when I get you to that point , when you realize that I won't stop seeking after you, and when you realize that with me— you'll never want to be sought after by anyone else again."

"Do you understand Quinn?" His question is threatening.

She nods. "Yes."

"Good girl." He grins. "Now release for me... release for me, and you will be home sweet girl. You'll just have to do it, right here on my tongue."

Lying on his belly, face devouring Quinn's pussy as he grips the thick indents of her hips, Quinn begins to buck her hips... fucking his face until the tightened spring in her stomach releases.

Tears dropping from her eyes as she shouts out from a mind blowing orgasm, Quinn's vision fades into a bright light.

Seeing only white and hearing a ringing similar to after a bomb, she fades into an unexpected slumber, waking up peacefully tucked into her bed back at her home...

—•—

Days pass and Quinn still doesn't understand what has happened to her this summer.

She's painfully alone with this knowledge, knowing that no one would ever believe her about Pennywise, nevertheless believe that she's been intimate with him.

Her thoughts of the night with Pennywise in the sewer plagues her mind... the memories make her drip with desire and because of it, she feels embarrassed.

What's even more embarrassing, is that she can't help but wonder why he hasn't made contact with her again...

Tempted to visit him in the tunnels, she doesn't want to seem desperate. Her mental health fights with her, filling her with shame knowing that longing for this creature is extremely wrong.

As the weekend draws closer, it'll be a week since they've seen each other. Quinn has gotten to the point of believing that maybe she's just going crazy, maybe she dreamt all of this!

She forces herself to drop him from her thoughts so she can prepare herself for the school year, and get back to everyday life.

Quinn showers in her parents' bathroom, refusing to bathe in the hall bathroom being that was where she first encountered the clown.

As she dresses for bed in a black silk night gown, she brushes her wet curls and brushes her teeth in the mirror of the hall bathroom.

As she spits the toothpaste out, she hears the calling of the clown.

"Oh Quuuiiinnn.."Pennywise nearly sings for her as he calls her name, echoing throughout the bathroom's pipes.

She gulps, realizing that everything that happened between them is absolutely true.

His voice taunts with seduction. "I've missed you honey..."

Cutting off the bathroom light, she decides to ignore the noise and leave.

"Don't you dare leave this bathroom."His threat startles her. "Come here Quinn."

She rolls her eyes, kneeling to the tub as she begins to whisper aggressively at the tub's drain, looking like a psychopath if anyone were to catch her. "What do you want from me? It's been a week, I thought I was free of you."

"Never." He chuckles. "It seems that you've been counting our days apart... if I'm correct, you've missed me just as much?"

"I waited for your bath." Pennywise causes Quinn to blush in embarrassment. "You never came."

"Showered in my parents' bathroom." She shrugs stubbornly. "Felt safer."

Pennywise laughs. "Then we'll just have to have our fun now."

Pennywise's gloved hand reaches through the drain...

"Take the glove off." He demands. "Then sit on it."

Quinn trembles as she pulls the clown's white glove from his hand.

His hand is revealed, gray, monstrous, with talon like nails.

She flinches at the thought of being fingered by that. "Put that away!" Quinn complains. "I will not do anything with that."

He sighs. "Fine."

Pulling his hand back into the drain, he soon brings it back up... handsome, soft, human, with enticingly long digits...

"Now." Compromising with the girl, Pennywise sighs. "Be a good girl, and come sit on this hand Quinn."

She licks her lips, becoming convinced to find pleasure on the handsome hand.

But she refuses... "No!" She snaps. "Pennywise, I won't! I'm going to bed!"

"So help me god Quinn." The threatening tone of his voice stops her dead in her tracks. "If you don't sit on this hand, I will come through this drain and fuck you to absolute pieces."

She wishes that his demanding threat didn't make her melt between her thighs... but interestingly enough, it does.

Quinn enters the tub. Hiking up her silk nightgown, she kneels to the floor of the tub, taking a seat on the warm hand coming from the drain.

His deep baritoned chuckle echoes through the steel pipes. "You know what to do."

And that she does.

Quinn begins to buck her hips... fucking the hand with slow trembled breaths.

Pennywise massages her clit with his thumb, making her slick and preparing her for his probing fingers.

Quinn continues to soak his hand, sticky webbed dripping from her needy little cunt oozing down Pennywise's wrist.

He places two of his longest fingers inside of her, bending at the knuckle to caress her g-spot each time they thrust into her. Quinn closes her eyes and enjoys the pleasure of each bounce onto the hand, a moan escapes her tongue as a broad thumb seeps into her asshole.

He's marked her as his own. Having the girl obsessed with the many ways he can fill her.

Quinn gyrates the lacy dress past her shoulders, her hands begin to toy at her now revealed sensitive breasts as she reaches closer to her cum.

Drawing the faint taste of blood from her full bottom lip, she bites down hard enough to silence her need to squeal.

"I have such the surprise for you.."Mysterious temptation clouds over Pennywise's voice. "Tomorrow, I'll come get you. Be ready for me, be ready for your gift."

"W-What is it?" Quinn's breath hitches in her throat, being choked by a moan.

"Be patient little lamb." He chuckles. "You will see."

Quinn clinches around Pennywise's fingers, nearing her finish. "Cum for me." A sweet command from Pennywise, sends Quinn into hysterics. She jolts, body quaking as she releases for him, soaking and pruning his fingertips.

Panting for breath after her climax, she watches the wet hand slide back down the drain... Quinn listens into the drain, hearing the sudden lapping of his tongue over his fingers, obsessed and constantly thirsty for her taste.

Realizing how much he craves for her, Quinn's crush grows larger. She's utterly fixated on her new lover.

"My glove?" Pennywise waits calmly for her to send it down the drain, but she refuses.

She gulps. "Tomorrow."

"You want to keep it?" You can nearly hear the joyful smile in Pennywise's voice.

"Yes." She admits.

He accepts it. "Fine, as long as you sleep with it pressed against your chest, or even better, between your legs."

"Quinn?" He calls once more. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow, sleep well sweet girl."

—•—

Quinn gets dressed early today not knowing which time to expect Pennywise.

Her knee shakes nervously as she waits all day on the edge of her bed, wondering if she should warn her family to not expect her home tonight... Hell, dealing with an evil entity, she even thought to warn them that she may never be back.

But the clown asked for her trust... so trust is what she has to give.

If he were to kill her, she's sure that he would have done it by now.

As the evening darkens, a nervous Quinn refuses to eat any meals... Her stomach is too anxious to accept any food to eat.

Quinn's eyes become tired, she accidentally begins to fall over into her pillows as sleep takes over her...

Before her head hits the pillow, the side of Quinn's face is carefully placed into the wide palm of Pennywise's hand.

She notices the feel of his skin instead of the pillow on her cheek, not once caring to ask how did he get inside of her room.

"You're late." Quinn's voice so very quiet and sleepy, plays gently on his heart strings.

Pennywise leans into the girl, wearing his human appearance as he softly kisses his tired love.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." He coos, taking his borrowed glove from her bedside table. "Just needed time to get things perfect for you."

As Quinn blinks her heavy eyelids open, she watches Pennywise puff on a cigarette. "So now you smoke?"

He shrugs. "Thought I'd see what's the hype around it to you humans."

Quinn disapproves, up from lying on her bed, she takes the cigarette from his lips and tosses it out of the opened bedroom window. "There is no hype to it, it's bad for you."

Amused with her sexy authoritative side, he wraps his arm around her body. His hand graces the small of her back gently as he lifts her to his kiss.

The tender kiss, mind blowing for them both as Quinn enjoys finally seeing his presence again, and Pennywise enjoys her beauty. Long brown legs in a pair of light blue denim short-shorts, dirty red converse tied in a bow on each of her feet, and braless in a nearly see through white summer tank top.

She's so gorgeous, it physically pains him.

Enjoying every detail of grace and beauty on her face, he pauses momentarily as he takes her image in. "Close your eyes."

Expecting to be transported somewhere, Quinn does just that. She closes her eyes, grasping onto his broad shoulders as she trusts him to take her wherever he wants.

Feeling ground beneath her feet, Quinn soon opens her eyes. She notices her house a few feet away as her and Pennywise walk hand in hand into the woods of her backyard.

She frowns in confusion. "The woods? Why?"

"So you can see how to get to me, and where to find me, whenever you need me." The calm comfort in his voice takes her worries away. She agrees with a nod, tightening her hand around his.

As the two walk together in the woods for a few short minutes, Pennywise follows a stream that leads them to the canals.

He makes sure that she's paying attention as he watches down upon her, she nods, memorizing the path of how to get to him.

They cross the dense rocks surrounded by water as they head towards the sewer. An older gentleman packed up from late night fishing stops them in their path.

Quinn instantly worries about how Pennywise will react... If she is to spend time with him, she never, ever, wants to see him kill.

"Penny, don't." Her voice a quiet plead for him to behave.

The man shines his flashlight into their direction, and Pennywise can hardly decide to kill him or not as he watches  the man shine the bright light into his eyes.

"Hey kiddos! You shouldn't be out this late, especially around these parts. Haven't you all heard about the bodies being found around here? Apparently a murderer is on the loose, some even say an evil clown who lives in the sewers... although that's just a fable." The man chuckles.

"Can't say we're ones to believe in the clown." Pennywise laughs. "Like you said, it's just a fable, right?Have a good night sir!"

Quinn finally breathes again, glad that Pennywise never lost his cool.

He sighs. "The things I do for you."

Together they make their way into the sewers, sloshing through the mucky waters until they've reached the dry area of the tunnels.

Quinn notices how different it looks from the last time she was here...

Cleaned out, floating bodies taken elsewhere, and no pile of his victims belongings.

Even a bedroom is built...

Candles lit around the two of them for romance, and to mask the horrid smells of the sewer.

She begins to chuckle, impressed with the effort he put into making her feel comfortable with where he hides out at...

She walks around the bedroom touching the furniture and the decorations he put together to feel like a home.

Quinn knows the stuff is stolen, but it is the thought that counts.

"Too much?" Nervous and nearly sweating, Pennywise can't get a good read on her expression. "I over did it, huh?"

"I think it's beautiful." She admits. "The reason you went missing for a week?"

He shrugs. "I didn't like you being on the floor, you deserve better... A bed, a place to stay whenever you want to free yourself from the outside world."

Quinn's cheeks blush, clearly falling in love with the clown.

"The bed is awfully big..." Kicking off her shoes, Quinn lays back onto the pillows. "Should I expect to share it?"

Pennywise chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully however noticeably infatuated with the girl.

"Quinn?" He curiously asks. "Do you only like me like this? Does the clown frighten you?"

She smiles. "I like you for the man that I got to know over summer, regardless of how he appears to me. Penny, I like you, for you."

Pennywise gazes into his reflection of the bedroom's mirror with guilt... suddenly becoming unsure of which version that he even likes, himself...

He chuckles dryly. "So I'll change it up, keep things interesting with my different appearances."

She agrees with him, yet begins to sigh. "I'm sorry that I can't do the same."

Her feelings of not being enough for him snaps Pennywise out of his gaze.

"Don't ever say that again." He quickly leaves the mirror, joining her as he sits on the edge of the bed. "You don't need multiple appearances. I love just the one that you have, I'll never want for anything else."

"You love my appearance?" She asks. "Or you love me?"

He gulps, finally admitting the truth. "Quinn, I love you."

Feeling relief as he finally gets those three meaningful words off of his chest, he doesn't even care to hear her say it back... for he is sure that the day will come.

The two share a longing kiss.

A tongue kiss that heats into their clothes being stripped off of each other.

As he pulls the daisy dukes along with her panties off of her body, he bites his lip as he watches her lift enough to slide them off of her legs... just as impatient and horny as he is.

Pennywise watches Quinn tremble with excitement, as she glistens between her thighs, ready for his taking.

Lying on her back, Quinn nearly begs for missionary sex. The type of sex where the wider she spreads, the more she can feel him dig into her.

"Are you sure?" Surprisingly gentle, Pennywise asks for her reassurance.

Biting her lip and already panting, she nods.

He doesn't think twice.

Lying over her gorgeously nude body, Pennywise begins to place slow, bruising kisses along her skin. Sucking the flesh of her chin, neck, and breasts... Marking her with his affection.

Accepting another of his tongue kisses, Quinn moans into his mouth as he loses himself down her throat.

Pennywise begins to slowly lube his cock, thrusting slowly through her slickness until he's covered in her nectar. Just the gliding of his cock through her folds causes her body to arch, pleading aimlessly to be fucked into.

Pussy slapping her with the tip of his weighty cock, he grins deviously as he watches her body jolt each time it smacks her on her throbbing clit.

Toyed with enough, already to the point of soaking his brand new sheets, he gains momentum to seep into her entry.

Slowly thrusting his tip into her, Pennywise holds her hips down as she attempts to run from the pleasure.

His plows deepen..

He watches Quinn take half, then all of his cock as he stretches her to her max. Watching his cock spread her wide is the prettiest thing he's ever seen, his groans tremble as he watches each time he slides out, and rams back into her.

Quinn grips the sheets as Pennywise kisses her salty tears away.

"So pretty.." He coos. "And such a good listener. Quinn, baby, are you with me?"

The girl nods, body blushing red as she endures his brutal fucking, however enjoying the restraint on her breathing from his crushingly heavy body and the fullness of his veiny erection.

Catching a bouncing breast into his mouth, Pennywise's tongue laps teasing circles around her hardened nipple.

Picking up speed and listening to the wet fapping of their bodies and the squeaking bed frame, Pennywise is determined to bottom completely out into her.

Finally doing it, pushing his cock in to the base of his happy trail, Quinn presses her hand against his chest, begging for mercy. "Please—" she pants. "Penny, I-I can't!"

Taking the hand from his chest, Pennywise kisses the girl's palm gently before placing it above her head. Holding her wrists back from interrupting his heavy bucking. "You can baby, you can."

Taking his free hand to her fleshy clit, he massages her in a way that makes her squirm underneath him.

Finishing his handsy caress with a sharp slap onto her pussy, he sends her into oblivion.

Quinn's body begins to quake, squealing inaudibly as the orgasm melts her into the mattress.

Wanting that same incredible finish, Pennywise's speed picks up, aiming for his cum. Her orgasm spasming around his cock as he grunts, mercilessly fucking into the girl.

"Fuck!" He shouts as he nears his finish.

Pussy quivering around his erection, already doused in his sticky precum, his sweetheart lays tiredly beneath him...

Sweated out, dumbly drooling, and looking so beautiful half-lidded and absolutely slutty for only him.

To bring him to his climax, he begs to hear her perfect little voice.

"Is this what you want?" He grits through his teeth. "Could we have this for a lifetime?"

Quinn nearly cries, numbly taking the rough fucking like a champ. "Yes Pennywise, God yes— just continue to be good to me, be good to Derry."

He nods, simping immediately to whatever she wants. "Mmm- fuck! This pussy is fucking fantastic. Yes baby.. Haven't killed since we met, I'll do whatever you want."

"Haven't killed since we met..."

"Haven't killed since we met..."

The words replay, strangling his mind.

How hasn't he killed, since they have met?

Pennywise comes to a slow pace, not understanding how he has been surviving if he hasn't fed off of fear?

....

Or has he been feeding off of it all along?

Quinn, she fears him.

He only has been surviving around her, because she's fucking faking it...

Pennywise believes that Quinn doesn't feel the same about him at all, she loathes him, she's frightened by him and doing whatever she needs to do in hopes of keeping her family and this town safe from him.

He can't hold his appearance any longer, as anger fuels him, Pennywise bursts into full clown...

Eight feet tall, ravenous teeth, hands that tear through his white gloves due to the black talon sized nails, and a monstrous cock that fills Quinn to the absolute brim.

She hisses in immediate pain, "Pennywise it hurts!"

The bed breaks down to the floor now that he's massive and impossibly heavy. However, Quinn's tight little cunt feels sooo very good to him.

"It hurts?"He begins to deviously taunt. "Does it now? I think you can take it Quinn. Be good for me."

She squeals. "Please! You're still inside me, you'll have to go back to your human appearance!"

Becoming familiar again with his evil nature, he refuses. "I think I'll fuck you just like this."

His hands wrap around her entire waist as if she were a can of soda, the clown's form being so large over her petite frame it's like fucking into a Barbie doll.

He huffs, nearing a mountain size amount of cum as he nearly splits Quinn into two.

The clown's mouth begins to drool as he places his hand at her womb, feeling his cock and watching the insane tummy bulge he forces into her guts.

So fucking sexy, he feels his explosion erupting.

Eyes rolling back into his skull, the clown releases to the sweet sounds of her cries.

Muscles tightening as does the vicious grip on her skin as he stills himself inside of her and coats her walls with his hot sticky cum.

"When were you going to stop wasting my fucking time?" Pennywise watches his cum spill out on each side of his cock that still penetrates her. "I can taste the fear on you, so don't dare lie."

Aggravated with her silence, he slams her against the bed. "Faking everything that you've said... Why, because you think it would keep you alive longer?"

He clicks his tongue with taunt. "I'm too old to be made a fool of, but you almost had me Quinn... you really did."

"Penny please!" She begs, although now on soft his giantly inhuman cock continues to sit deeply inside of her. Without barely any movement, she still feels as if she's being fucked due to his size and the pulsing veins of his cock. "I-I can't speak to you like this."

Not being able to catch her breath, and seeming to be seriously ill. Her poor body can't take much more.

She begs tearfully. "It's too much!! S'too full!!"

Pulling himself out of Quinn, she jolts at the lewd pop of the head of his massive cock exiting her.

He watches his cum seep from out of her with more plans of revenge sex and doing this all night to her.

She can finally breathe as her body relaxes, pouring out his messy load into the middle of her trembling thighs.

"Talk!" Pennywise shouts.

"I'm not afraid of you!" She cries.

Pennywise's finger nail sticks uncomfortably into her belly button, with just the slightest drag, Quinn's steaming hot intestines could be lying right in front of her eyes. "Oh Quinn... I've enjoyed every minute with you, but don't think that I won't tear you into fucking shreds if you lie to me again."

"I'm telling you the truth, I don't fear you!" The poor girl, now heartbroken and regretting becoming the lover of a demonic entity continues to weep until she runs out of tears.

"The fear that you are surviving off of is my fear of the future. Fear of our fate together being that we are in an impossible relationship..." Quinn explains herself , unable to even look at him anymore. "A girl and an entity— a fear of the universe pulling us apart when I have too fallen in love with you."

....

His eyes soften with immense guilt... Finally realizing what he has done...

Looking at his love lying exhausted, half-lidded, and fucked to a pulp, he worries that he has injured her... For the first time feeling fear himself.

What Pennywise failed to realize, is that the girl never feared him at all. What she feared, was losing him.

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

Hello, my love... so okay... yes... would you kindly do.... Prompt #176. “I’m going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are.” This prompt is for Roman Godfrey...

👉👈Thank you 👉👈

Imma go hide in a dark corner now...

Excited to finally write something for you that is tailored for you and not having you just appeal to my obsessions. I hope you like this.

𝑨 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑽𝒊𝒆𝒘

Roman Godfrey x Fem!Reader

#176. “I’m going to fuck you against the windows, i want everyone to see how good you are.”

◢ Genre: A touch of fluff, Kink, Smut ---- Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: PWP, dom!Roman, submissive!reader, exhibitionism, sort of window fetish, sort of public sex(?), some spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, sex from behind, hair pulling, biting, creampie, sexy time talk. slight praise kink, begging, mention of aftercare.

◢ Word Count: 2.6k

◢ A/N: Okay, so I have never written for Roman before, but I feel this will be pretty straightforward. I hope it hits all the right spots.

You have become accustom to how your relationship with Roman had grown. There was a sort of mutual understanding on how things are with him. He is in charge, and you had a 'place' to be in, for lack of better terms. In some small way you had control, but not in the normal sense of things; you had the control that a submissive in a bdsm relationship would have it.

This is your relationship with Roman. You are his submissive and he is your master. But when you are asked to strip down and stand in front of floor to ceiling windows, you hesitate slightly. Your eyes gaze to the window, watching as people walk past it. You would feel and be rather exposed to anyone who had possible wondering eyes.

After a moment though, and wanting to avoid correction, you slowly manage to strip down to nothing. Kicking your clothes to side, you look down at them like you had just lost your security blanket. Instinctually you want to cover yourself with your arms. It was natural for you to keep yourself covered, feeling rather unconfident, but you knew he would correct you. A part of you hated it.

Slowly you take in a deep breath through your nose, your fingers pressing into the palm of you hand. Roman was always one to push those boundaries with you. He like getting you to try something new, even if it made you a little scared or uncomfortable. He damn well knew this was going to make you uncomfortable. A part of him questioned if you would need to use your safe word. He hoped not.

Walking around you like an animal observing a cornered prey, he couldn't help but smirk slightly, a small chuckle escaping him. His finger reach over and the tips of them so gently graze your skin, moving from the side of your thigh and up around your body as he walked back around to stand in front of you. He fingers come to your nipple and he pinches and pulls at it slightly.

You tense a bit, feeling a small bit of pain. For a moment your lips push out and your brow furrows, almost as if you are pouting at him for doing that to you. At least he knows that he has your attention. You're focused and not zoned out, or withdrawing too much into yourself. This was going to be a big step for you.

“I’m going to fuck you against the windows, I want everyone to see how good you are.” He states, cutting straight to the point for the reason he had you here right now.

Your eyes go wide. "What?"

"I'm going to fuck you against the windows." He repeated, his tone slowing down slightly as he is allowing the sentence to sink into your brain for a moment. He licks at his lips as his hands reach up and he starts to take off his suit coat, laying it over the couch. He doesn't opt to take off his shirt, instead he loosens the tie and rolls up his sleeves to expose his forearms.

You could have used your safeword at that moment. You could have stopped him dead in his tracks and kept it from happening. The choice was right there and for a moment you considered it. But at the same time, there was something appealing about the idea. How many people would notice? How many people could stop to watch to see what was going on in the window.

Watching as Roman turned around and slid his hands into his pockets, watching you closely, you could feel as your heart started to pound in your chest. This wasn't how you were expecting your night to go. It was scary, but exciting. A small part of you remembered that you could stop this at any point if it became too much, and you mentally reminded yourself of that.

Letting your body relax, you looked at Roman with a small smile before you nodded your head, giving him that sort of consent that you were going to give it a shot. Roman smiles slightly, approaching you to cup your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to gaze up at him. He leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips roughly against yours before he spins you around to the window.

Gripping your arms, he brings your hands up to the window and presses your palms against it as he bends you over slightly. His hands move to your hips and he brings your hips out slightly, bringing you to that perfect level for him. His hand move gently over your lower back, grazing against your ass as he gently grips at your left cheek, his fingers pressing for a moment before brings his hand up and smacks it down against your flesh.

You tense and jump slightly. You had been expecting the motion, but it still had caught you off guard. This only caused your heart to pound in your chest a little more. Why did you have to face the window? Couldn't he have just lifted you up and pressed you against it? By his logic, sure, and maybe at some point he will. But this way people could see the faces you make as he presses his cock into the dewy folds between your legs. Bonus points if there happened to be an ex that walked by at that moment, but he doubt he would get that lucky.

A small chuckle escapes him as he steps back and takes a moment to observe you and the people that were already glancing into the window. This was going to be satisfying. His jaw clenches slightly, feeling himself starting to quickly stiffen in the restricting fabric of his pants. He starts to undo his belt, a sound that causes your ears to hyper-tune into it with clashing of the metal buckle. But he doesn't take it off, he simply starts to unbutton his pants, letting them drop just enough with his briefs to free his growing erect self.

Keeping his erect self in one hand, he reaches forward wit the other and bring his fingers to graze against your lower lips. Roman can feel the dampness spread as he presses his fingers into the folds slightly and runs them against your clit. This causes you to lift your hips slightly, a wave of excitement rushing over you with that feeling of anticipation and being nervous. It was a lot to feel at once and it caused goosebumps against your skin.

His finger press into your hole, as if he was preparing you to be ready for what would come right after them. He slowly pushes them deeply, reaching the full length of the fingers and starts to do a back and forth motion. You moan softly, your legs spreading a little bit as your juices start to coat them. Feeling satisfied with how wet you are becoming, Roman removes his fingers from you and positions himself behind you.

For a moment, your eyes glance up at the window and you can somewhat make out your reflections in it. Your lips part in a heavy breath as you watch, your vision going from his reflection and the people outside. A few stood by to watch, acting as though they were just leaning against something. Others simply shook their heads and walked on. This caused your heart to race further. Could you get in trouble for this? Technically speaking, yes.

Your toes curl slightly against the floor as you feel the head of Roman's cock pressing against your hole and then slowly sliding into you. He lets out a heavy groan, his hands quickly moving to your hips as he grips on and presses his entire length deeply into you. Your body grips at him, taking him deeply as your muscles felt around him slightly, almost as if to pull him in deeper.

Your slow moan and gasp for air felt louder than you intended, as if it bounced off the window in front of you and back at you. Your suck in your stomach a moment, feeling you body tense as his motions start in. First he moved slowly, bringing himself back to tip before he pressed his length into you again. He relished in the moment of how you felt around him. He was the reason you were tight. He was the reason you were wet. That is a satisfying feeling to him.

His hands travel against your body, moving from your hips up your side and resting against your ribs. For a moment his fingers dig into you, sending a little pain to mix with the feeling of pleasure, and that causes you to moan a little louder and press your hips back into his. When your ass met his somewhat open pants and flesh, he groaned, tensing slightly. You were letting that wall down, exploring something new, and he was eating it up.

Roman starts to pick up his pace as he grips at your ribs, allowing for just slightly quicker motions into your wet fold. He keeps himself buried a little more, no longer letting you feel the full length, but instead letting you feel the slightly faster, forceful nature of his hips. His breathing starts to pick up as he hears your moans and for a moment he leans forward slightly.

One hand reaches forward, gripping at your breast. He squeezes it in his hand as he presses his entire length into you, holding it for a moment as he allows his hand to fondle with your chest. His lips start to wonder against your shoulder-blade, kissing at your skin with a sense of passion. It hadn't been just a moment into hearing you moan more that Roman starts his motions again, pumping his hips into you.

"You feel so good." He mutters. "So wet. So tight. Are you my good girl?" He asks, while still leaning over slightly against your back.

You nod quickly, moaning and breathing heavily. You had forgotten what your hands were pressed against, the feeling of the glass more slick under your palms with sweat. He smirks against your skin slightly as he presses his teeth into your shoulder, biting at you a little, as his motions become more rough. Screaming out, your head drops a little more as your body tense out in both pain and pleasure.

Roman comes from the bite, lifting his lips and teeth off your shoulder-blade to see deeply purple markings and a faint bruise already starting to form. What's his, is his and he has no issues with marking his girl. Feeling pleased with himself, his cock twitches and hardens a little more inside you, which causes him to bring his hands back to your waist.

He started to give rougher, more forceful thrusts into you. Groaning and moaning loudly with you. The occasional fuck or oh god leaving someone's lips in a breathy moaned tone. The louder you became the rougher his motions started to get. Eventually, Roman's hands were in your hair and he was pulling on it. He pulled you back slightly, arching your back a bit, as his knees bent just enough to give himself a different angle.

He pressed himself into deeply, finding that right length to insert that would hit your sweet spot. He causes your legs to shake, trembling under you and you feel like your about to give way and lose your self of balance. He knew what that leg shaking meant, that tremble that ran through your body was something he had memorized. He learned how to work you, to help you achieve the finish that you craved from from.

"Good girl. My wonderful girl. Does that feel good?" He ask. "Y-yes Sir." You stammer, your fingers and palms red from how hard you were pressing them into the window. "Would you like to cum baby?" He coos at you, pressing his length in deeply as he says the word cum.

You moan and nod, hoping that he doesn't ask you to beg for it. But it was instinct, and before he could even say it, you were already begging for that sweet release.

"Please, can I cum? Please? I'm right there." You manage to get out between moans and heaving breaths. Roman looks amused, and rather proud of you.

"Ask me again." He mutters, almost growling as he's trying to contain his own moans for just a moment.

"Please. May I cum? Please let me cum." You insist. "Alright. Cum baby. Make a mess for me." He says, as both his hands go to grip at your sides.

You start to take some sort of small control as you rock your body back and forth a moment, starting to bounce yourself against Roman's length. He doesn't stop you and you cause his body to tense and the pressure to build more and more. "Oh fuck..." He manages to mutter. "Don't stop baby. Keep going. Keep going." He says, almost begging you. "You've got me right there baby."

You pick up the pace, feeling that release right on the edge there. And as he speaks, that begging and slightly needy tone coming from him, you find yourself trembling with a finish. Feeling like electricity was moving from head to toe, your body tenses and you start to have a heavy tremble work it's way through you. You cry out, moaning loudly as you keep yourself bouncing back and forth against him.

The feeling of your finish drove him. The way you tightened around him and moved against his length with desire and need, worked him to release that finish. He let go, his own legs trembling slightly as his fingers press into your skin. At first his head hung back in a moan before it drops down and he starts to give you short, hard thrusts, making sure to coat your insides with his seed.

For a moment, you both stood there, allowing yourselves to come down from the moment. He couldn't help but chuckle, feeling as you press back once more against him. Roman gives a small thwack at your ass and another grip at it for good measure, before he slowly pulls himself from you. It feels like you have lost your sense of legs, they shake under you with a heavy tremble and you wonder if you are even able to walk right now.

Roman smiles, helping you a moment as he turns you back to him and wraps his arms around your waist. His lips met yours and he kisses you deeply before pulling from it, allowing himself a moment to simply look at your features. This man adores you, with every fiber of his being.

"I'm proud of you." He comments. "Why?" You ask quietly, gazing up at him. "You didn't need to use your safe word. You went with it." He tells you honestly before he kisses you again. "How about we get you into a hot bath and I order some food?" He suggests, reaching up to touch the side of your face. You smile at him, feeling almost shy about being praised, but it felt good at the same time. Hearing that you have done good, that you have made him proud, it sort of drives you. It keeps you going. It gives you the motivation to care.

"A bath sound good." You state. It wasn't always easy to let someone take care of you, but right now, it felt right. It was going to be a good night and everything in your body told you that. Roman didn't hesitate, he takes your hand and helps you to the bathroom, making sure that you have fresh clothes and a big, clean, fluffy towel to dry off with. You are a good girl, and he was going to make sure you know it. After all, he's not the type of man to slack.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Just read the museum marquis fic and I love it. I wonder what would a fanfic where the marquis de gramont met a ballerina reader?

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

Summary: A tall and handsome man has been watching you preform for a while. What will happen when he finally chooses to introduce himself?

Word Count: 2.5k

I got multiple reqs for this! So, here ya go! Enjoy!

“You’re late Y/N!”

I dashed into the locker room, tossing my bag atop the dressing room counter.

“I know! I know! I’m really sorry! My apartment door wouldn’t lock and there was traffic and then-”

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

“I don’t care. Please-just, be ready to go by showtime.”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will be ready, I promise.”

She quickly turned on her heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Her blue dress swayed gently as the dancers rushed around her. Her spine was straight, her posture rigid.

I don’t blame her. I'm just as nervous as everyone else to see how this performance goes. Unfortunately, I'm a dancer, so rigid posture isn't ideal. I'm forced to keep my anxiety bottled up inside my head.

“Y/N.”

My friend called my name, jolting me from my trance. She was fully dressed, with a full face of makeup. She stared at me, completely stunned.

“Y/N, you better hurry! Everyone else is ready to go!”

I moved rapidly, quickly opening my makeup bag, praying I had enough time.

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

“Oh, Clara, it’s been such an aggravating day.”

I stared at my reflection, watching as the foundation completely coated my face.

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

“Well, first my apartment wouldn’t lock.”

I closed one eye and applied eyeshadow as quickly as I could.

“My key wouldn’t work! And of course I couldn’t just leave my apartment unlocked so I had to bother my neighbor to get the spare key I gave her.”

I moved on to the other eye.

“Then there was so much traffic. Then I couldn’t find a good parking spot because I got here so late. Then I had to walk almost six blocks.”

My eye makeup looked... alright. Sure, if I had an extra hour, I could make it look fantastic. But, due to my unfortunate situation, I had to settle for average.

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that cute guy will be here tonight.”

I scoffed loudly.

“He’s always here. If he goes four days without seeing a ballet, just assume he’s dead.”

Oh my goodness, that blush color was really clashing with my eyeshadow. Shit! I didn't have time to remove it and start over. Perhaps I could just add another color to my eyes, creating a strange hybrid color that would blend well with the blush.

“I don’t know Y/N. I’ve been here longer than you, and he only started going regularly once you got here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, right. It’s probably just a coincidence. I doubt he’d spend a shit ton of money on fancy ballet tickets just to see some pretty girl dance.”

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

“I dunno. He always dresses like he’s ready to meet the queen, and he sits in a box. He doesn’t seem short on funds. He definitely could be the type to buy ballet tickets just to admire you.”

Okay, the blush and eyeshadow looked fine. I could handle "fine." I could work with "fine.”

“I don’t know Clara. You know, when you watch a performance, faces and names blend together because there are so many people on stage. I doubt he picked me out of the crowd and decided I was going to become the object of his affection.”

I put on some red lipstick, trying not to be distracted by the fact that all the dancers I saw in the mirror were fully prepared.

“Besides, a handsome man like that?... he probably has a girlfriend.”

Clara perked up.

“Oh, so you admit you think he’s handsome.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

Clara let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. My face turned hot. Thankfully, the makeup covered most of the natural pink that had begun to appear on my cheeks.

“Oh my God you have a little crush on him, don’t you!”

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

“I’ve never seen him with a girl Y/N! I think he’s single and ready to mingle!”

Clara’s loud voice drew some attention. I swiveled on my heels and placed a finger to my lips.

“Sh!”

-

The show was finished, and the final bows were taken.

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a wave. I was moved to know that they were all applauding for this performance. As the entire company gathered for one final bow, I observed the crowd's faces contort into bright smiles. I felt moved knowing that at least one person in the audience was thinking about what a wonderful job I did tonight.

I hoped it was the man whose appearance I had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

The gold theater sparkled. The red seats gradually vanished as people rose to pay their respects to the performers.

I was unable to avoid glancing around at the various people in the crowd. I started in the box seats, hoping to spot a tall man with a penchant for fashion.

No luck.

My gaze was drawn to the floor seats. I scanned them all as quickly as I could. Maybe he sat closer? If he truly came to see me, it wouldn't hurt to get the best view possible in the front row.

No luck.

I'm not sure why I was so desperate for him to be here. Nonetheless, I felt my heart sink slightly as I considered the possibility that he missed tonight's performance.

We finished with a company bow. We waved goodbye, and quickly scattered off the stage.

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

“You did so well! Jesus, I thought for sure you’d be all scattered from coming in late, but you really pulled it off well!”

I didn't notice her hands cutting through the air as she spoke. I didn't even bother looking at her. I kept my head down, stuffing various cosmetics into my black backpack.

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

“Alright, what’s going on? Who’s got you bummed?”

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

“Come on Y/N, there’s thousands of people in that crowd! There’s no way you could’ve checked every seat for him!”

My lips were pursed. Clara wrapped her hands around my shoulders, soothing me. She leaned into my ear, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I bet he showed up tonight. And if he didn’t, it was his loss entirely.”

-

The cold Paris air bit at my exposed skin. The chill penetrated my tank top, chilling me to the bone. I drew the sides of my peacoat together, attempting to conceal my torso and thighs from the wind.

I began to stroll, trying to enjoy the lovely Paris evening despite the fact that so much was less than ideal.

After about thirty paces, I was struck by an uneasy sense that someone was watching me. I initially ignored it. There were numerous high-rise apartment buildings. I'm sure that feeling came from being a window away from someone's living space, and the possibility that someone was watching me inadvertently.

I couldn't shake the feeling even after another thirty paces. The buildings in this particular neighborhood were completely dark. That is, everyone was sleeping, and if anyone was watching me, it probably would go unnoticed by bystanders.

I took a peek over my shoulder to ensure my intuition was correct.

About thirty feet behind me was a tall, lanky man in a black coat.

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

I kept my head down, trying to maintain my composure.

His footsteps became audible. I focused on them, noticing that they were becoming slightly louder with every step.

Shit.

Shit!

God, this guy is a total creep! How could I be so stupid?!

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

I started to move faster, trying to appear calm despite being aware that my heart was pounding in my ears. My blood rushed to my heart, leaving my face pale and cold.

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

The man’s velvety accent pierced the air like a knife. My heart jumped.

I’m fucked.

“Really, I just want to talk with you.”

No way in hell was I stopping. My calves burned. My eyes were wide. My hands trembled within my pockets.

My chest came into contact with something solid. I stumbled back, looking up.

Oh my goodness, he was right in front of me.

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

The man's neutral gaze softened as he noticed my anxiety.

“I am very sorry to have frightened you, madame. I am simply a fan wishing to pay my respects.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I promise, I mean no harm. There is no reason to be frightened.”

He was considerably taller than me. In two seconds, he could pick me up and throw me into the back of a shady white van.

Nonetheless, his luxurious accent and courteous eyes made me believe he was telling the truth. So I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly.

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

“But of course. It would be foolish of me to disregard the opportunity to observe such talent.”

Wow, I'm going to give credit where credit is due. He’s a smooth talker. He speaks with such elegance. I'm unable to ignore his words. With bated breath, I await each sentence.

“Well, that is very kind of you to say.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I only convey the complete truth. In my lifetime, I have seen hundreds of ballets, operas, and plays. It is uncommon to find such a passion for the arts in the hearts of the prefromers. Few people allow creativity to encompass every aspect of them. But, I have noticed fire within you.”

He glanced deeply into my eyes, as if he wanted to capture some of the "fire" within me and preserve it for himself.

“I can tell by the way you dance and command the stage.”

The gentle breeze rustled the end of his overcoat as his pale eyes shone in the pale moonlight. He exuded a sense of mystery that beckoned me to embrace the unknown.

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

He came to a halt, his piercing gaze catching my lips before darting back to my eyes.

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

Forget about my face being cold; it was now scorching hot. I just hope I kept enough blush on my cheeks to hide the natural pink.

He extends his leg, the buckle of his pricey loafer catching the moonlight. He steps closer, the wonderful aroma of whiskey and bergamot wafting into my nose. The scent cloud muffles my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation.

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh, well, my entire life. I started the moment I could walk and I’ve pretty much been in the dance studio everyday since.”

The enigmatic man nodded, pleased with my response. I took my hands from my pockets, as they were sweating despite the chill.

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

I took a deep breath, careful not to trip over my words and reveal that my heart was racing.

“I remember my first official dance class. I was- about four or five.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“All the kids were complaining. I mean, y’know, at that age it basically is just an excuse for the parents to get their obnoxious kids out of the house.”

He chuckled.

Yes!

“But I never complained, not once. I loved it from the start. And, it’s completely consumed my life since then.”

He took another step forward. The distance between us was almost non-existent now. To meet his gaze, I had to almost completely crane my neck back.

“I can tell. You don’t just dance, you float over the stage. It really is beautiful to watch.”

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped my face with his hand. His grip was gentle, as if he were coddling a baby bird.

My mind was empty, a void waiting to be filled by him.

He exhaled deeply, a breath fanning over my face. I instinctively leaned into him, craving his warmth, craving his scent, craving…

Him.

He ran his calloused thumb along my cheekbone. My face was burning. I knew he could feel it beneath his palm.

He grinned.

“You have a very bright future in the arts. Paris is only the beginning.”

I could sense the tension rising. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for something magnificent to unfold.

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

“I hope and pray that you will allow me to be an integral component of your bright future.”

He slipped something into my empty pocket sneakily. He smiled broadly. My heart skipped a beat. His smile was enticing, so simple yet so effective.

“Call me, Ma chère.”

He took a step back, turned, and began to stroll away. My shoulders loosened. My chest gave way. My cheeks had lost their warmth. The tension had been released.

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

His figure looked very intriguing. Most of his ridges and curves were hidden by his long coat. It enticed one to venture into uncharted territories.

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

[m4nspr34d]

CRAVE | Eric Draven x M!reader

Contents: Established relationship, Anal (R!receiving)

💌 : Smut dabble! This is my first time writing smut so please keep that in mind, enjoy 🤍

Nobody touched you like Eric Draven.

His hands clamped down on your waist, his head pushing against you neck, red splotches dotted along your jaw. Heavy breaths, desperate pants as you two pushed against eachother. His cock slid against your own, the pre-cum leaving for sloppy sounds as his hips rolled back and forth against you, almost like he couldn’t have you, like he was trying to impress you, like he didn’t have you wrapped around his finger.

The way Eric Draven thrusted into you, the way he whimpered no less than you each time he slid in and out of you. The way his hands desperately traveled your body, yearned for more of your touch each time. His heavy pants against your body, dampened each time by your own noises.

“You feel so good.“

“Is it good—?

You couldn’t respond to him, truly you couldn’t. Nobody handled your body like he did, with such care and perfection, but nobody fucked you like him either, so full of lust, so intimate. His movement halted, a whine escaping as he paused, straightening his back, pulling you down the bed slightly, sitting completely upright as he pushed his cock in again—

“Fuck—.. Eric.”

Pre-cum stuck to your abdomen as he slammed into you, your cock dripping, each thrust feeling like it was inching you closer and closer to your limit. The way his shoulder broadened as he hammered inside of you, his grunts and moans— all of it, the way his fingers gripped your body. “Fuck it’s so good, it’s so good.” He muttered to himself as his head fell back, limp almost.

His thrusts had little to no rhythm, occasionally he’d slow down, grinding his cock in your ass his lips sucked marks into the skin of your jaw. Just as quick he’d speed up again, his balls slamming against your ass as his cock squelched in your hole.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Please.”

His forehead rested against yours, his thrusts so sloppy yet so vigorous, the way he slammed his cock inside of you, it was like a ravenous hunger. Your hand gripped your cock as you felt it coming— but his hand grabbed yours in retaliation, holding your cock in place around your own hand.

Your moans mixed with his, your whined practically with his deep grunts each time he moved in and out. His eyes pinched shut, his hand suddenly sliding down to your balls as he jerked your cock. He slammed inside of you, pistoning in and out as he whined against you.

Your back arched off the bed as Eric Draven shot his load inside you, your hands gripped on his stomach as he tried to push his cock deeper and deeper with each last thrust. His moans pushed through you, the way he whined, the way he whimpered when he pumped a load into you.

He looked down in awe as cum shot out of your cock, thick white ropes shooting up for torso, guttural moans ripping from your throat as you pulled you hand up and down your cock. His finger gripped your thighs as he watched, lust in his eyes even still.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Gif by @pennywises

https://pennywises.tumblr.com/?source=share

I saw this movie yesterday, and this idea came to me in a dream. Short fluff.

You jump up to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a playful glint in your eye, you make sure he can see your lips clearly as you ask, "Did you hang the laundry to dry?"

He purses his lips, glances at you sideways, and slowly nods his head.

You giggle, shaking your head. "No, you didn't."

His nodding becomes more animated, his eyes blinking innocently.

"Oh yeah?" You lift your chin, making sure your lips are visible. "So if I go check the wash basin, it will be empty?"

He pulls back, blinking rapidly as his mind races for a response. Then, he lifts his arm, cradling his wrist, and pouts, his shoulders slumping as he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

Your brows rise. You know what he's doing, but it doesn't mean you won't fall for it. "Your wrist? What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" you ask, exaggerating your lip movements.

He nods, still pouting.

"Aww," you coo. "Let me see."

But instead of showing you his hand, he grabs both of yours, locking them together with a firm yet gentle grip and pulling you towards him to kiss you.

His powerful frame and fierce demeanor melt away in these moments of intimacy, revealing how innocent and noble he really is. It's his favorite method of shutting you up, and you fall for it every time, unable to resist the tenderness behind his strength.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Beautifully Broken (Eric Draven x Reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eric.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Divider is by @thecutestgrotto

[writermani4c]

Wise Man - Willard Russel x Reader

@pizgif

Summary: He waited for her for a long time, but she was much better than his fantasies. A wise man knows when he has found his wife.

Warnings: English is not my first language. Not the second or third, I'm sorry. I'm just a Brazilian woman with Bill Skarsgard fever who likes to write to relieve tension. I hope you like it and that the BIG mistakes don't bother you while reading. With love, me.

It's romantic, kind of fluffy (if you like men who are madly in love) and with a slight spice of obscenity. Carefully follow along.

She smelled like lilies when she walked into the cereal aisle.

Every man prepares for that moment. The moment when your life will be turned upside down, all because of a peculiar smell that makes you turn your neck without any concern other than finding its source, then you come face to face with a woman. Your girlfriend, your wife, the mother of your children, the warm hand on your shoulder after a dog day, the smell of lilies on the pillow on the other side of the bed, the soft voice that will say “honey, is that you?” when you get home or “why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” in the morning.

Willard was waiting for her. Even though he didn't like to admit it out loud, he hoped there was someone like that in that strange, inhospitable hole in the world. And when she turned the corner, holding a bag of flour and some eggs, smelling of lilies, with dirt-stained fingernails and a yellow dress that had seen better springs, he knew that this would be his wife.

She looked up only subtly, acknowledging his presence because he was tall enough to block the view of some items on the small shelf, but not tall enough to notice that he was losing his breath at her handsome face.

Beautiful eyes.

Her eyes burned into a particular corner of his brain, coming into his dreams like two headlights. Willard never liked sleeping, seeing it as necessary as eating and pissing, but much more boring. He slept and felt paranoid about being so vulnerable. But when he started dreaming about her eyes, sleep became a pleasant escape.

Small town, people talk. They said that her father had left early, so it was just the mother and daughter in a house falling apart. The mother was sick and the daughter took care of keeping them alive and fed, took care of the family garden and sold flowers to the local flower shop, also repaired worn-out clothes and cleaned some houses. Willard brought shirts and she took them like treasures, pressing them to her chest before thanking him for thinking of her for the service. She didn't know that he himself cut some holes in his shirts and stopped buying some items for the house to have an excuse to see her. It was worth it when your shirts came back sewn and smelling of fresh earth, tulips and daisies.

Someone needed to take care of her. Someone needed to keep her warm at night and scare away the strangers who followed in her footsteps when she make your purchases.

Most of them started to cower when she started waving at Willard when she saw him on the street. He almost chickened out himself, thinking about what chance she had of seeing him with some affection, and took a while to return the wave, which gave her the confidence to do so more often.

'Good morning, Mr. Russel' and ‘Good afternoon, Mr. Russel’, always with a sweet voice and a small smile at the corner of his mouth, that corner that made him want to lean over her, hold her face and run his index finger across her lips, because they were beautiful, they looked soft and smooth. He told her to cut the formalities, but she always called him that, changing to her first name only when he went to her house with clothes to mend.

─ You have a lot of clothes to sew." She smiled and Willard thought she might know.

She was beautiful in a disconcerting way. She had that face that made the day seem less depressing, with a smart smile and sparkling eyes, and that body that made him wish ─ and then feel even slightly guilty for letting his thoughts go so far ─ that he could travel with his mouth, kissing her curves. as he breathed in the scent she must have had beneath her clothes, that skin as smooth as silk at his mercy. She wasn't stupid, though.

─ It's as if termites do their damage whenever I take my eyes off them. Sorry for bringing you so much trouble.

─ No, you don't need to apologize for that. But you spend a lot of money on me.

─ It's money well spent.

─ I… ─ She breathed in, batting her eyelashes as a gentle rebuke to whatever was in her brain. Without meaning to, Willard took a step forward. Don't beat yourself up, my blossom, that's what she wanted to say, but she stopped herself from taking that step inside the screened-in porch of her house. ─ You…

─ Willard.

─ Willard. ─ He waved with a resigned smile. ─ I don't want to be rude.

─ Please be. Be rude all you want, I won't care.

─ Do you want to stay for dinner?

His heart became a nearly dead muscle beneath her words, only to start beating full force again, skipping beats like a runner in a marathon. He couldn't believe it. A huge smile spread across his face. It would be the first time she invited him in. This gave him hope. He gave him a duty.

─ I want it.

Once inside her personal space, the place where she lived, he felt enveloped to the core, because the entire house smelled like her. Soft earth and flowers.

Her couch was warmer and more comfortable. The table at home, although small, was warmer and the chairs were comfortable. The smell of his food made him feel a dormant, wild hunger, something that was more inside his head than his stomach, roaring and digging with sharp nails into his flesh. He went to the bathroom, with the window facing the backyard. A small window, but one he could sneak through, and he left it open from the inside.

That night, he had dinner with his future wife and her mother, a lady so laughing and talkative that she filled him with questions full of ulterior motives.

If he was married, which he gladly answered no, looking at the flush-cheeked girl at the other end of the table. If he intended to get married, he said yes. What he worked with, whether he drank, whether he was baptized, whether he was up to date with his church obligations. Willard maintained a helpful smile because he knew she heard all his answers and, somewhere, evaluated everything he said.

Later, when they said goodbye, she walked him to the door.

─ Thank you for staying. We don't receive many visitors.

─ Thank you for dinner. No one has cooked for me for a long time.

─ You can come when you want to be questioned over a plate of food.

Under the yellow light of the screen porch, the world seemed very small and very simple. There was nothing but him and that woman. Nothing but the way she looked at him, her face lifted to meet his eyes, and the way she breathed, how she filled her lungs all at once and emptied them more slowly. Her cheeks were warmer in the yellow light, the glow in her eyes was like the gravitational force making him yield to her, and the flutter of those eyelashes stirred Willard's heart once again.

He waited for her, but he couldn't believe that reality could be so good.

His right hand touched hers, gentle but lewd, and he leaned in, consuming the air between them, to kiss her left cheek.

He didn't apologize or look back before walking through the balcony door, hearing the thud as it closed behind him. He walked through the garden and disappeared into the darkness, but he didn't go away. He watched her touch her cheek with her fingertips and take a deep breath, then a smile spread across her face.

Every night for two months, he climbed in through that bathroom window in the middle of the night and walked silently around the house. He touched the notes she signed by hand, her grocery list or some reminder on the refrigerator door, ran his fingers through the clothes on the line at the back of the house and went through her things. He defiled her space because he felt a certain comfort in it, in walking through the house and pushing open her bedroom door, watching her sleep peacefully in the narrow bed. She looked peaceful and carefree, as she should be. She looked fragile, small (and that had nothing to do with her height) and defenseless against all the dangers of that land, a little sparrow that he wanted to hold in his hands and keep, because flying around would get him into trouble.

Every time he was invited to dinner, which started to happen more and more frequently, he allowed himself to leave a kiss as a farewell.

A kiss on the cheek, on the back of her hands, on her knuckles, on her forehead. It was like a small dose from a bottle that he hoped he could take a bigger swig of. Holding her face and bringing his lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair as he enjoyed the feeling of his own lips on the skin of the one who stole his heart, because he couldn't take her mouth and, by the good Lord, no part underneath that yellow button-down dress.

One night, when he turned his back, she followed him outside.

─ Willard! ─ The urgency made him stop in place, but it took him a while to turn on his heels, finding her outside with him, away from the yellow lights.

Outside, the world was different.

The darkness of the night was infested with dangers and evil men. The world smelled not just of soft earth and flowers, but also of gunpowder and blood, ambition, power and unbridled pleasure, suffering and bitterness, things that didn't feel like her but were familiar to him. She came after Willard and he waited for her because she was too small to be alone. She didn't need to be alone. Never again.

─ What was it?

─ I don't know.

─ Yes, you know. ─ She needed to know, because the wait wasn't just exciting. It was heartbreaking too. Each night watching her from afar, unable to run his nose along the delicate curve of her neck or cover her when she moved in her sleep and made the blanket slide, slipping away to reveal a pair of breasts covered only by a soft nightgown. The things he did to himself imagining having those breasts in his mouth... ─ It's dark out here. Whatever you say will remain in the dark.

─ What if it’s bad?

─ Nothing good is said in the dark, my dear, that's why we only talked alone on your balcony.

She nodded.

She was barefoot. Most of the time, she stayed barefoot inside the house, limiting herself to wearing lace-up boots over socks when she needed to go into town.

─ I want to be your darling.

─ You are. Always has been, ever since I laid eyes on you.

─ No, not like that. I want to be more than I am now. ─ She took a deep breath. ─ I want you to come and have dinner here every day and not have to pay for me to fix your clothes, because it gives me great pleasure to do so. I don't want you to have to leave after you kiss me.

─ Be my wife then, darling.

That time, she was the one who held his hand. Her fingers were smaller than his, knotted from working with the earth and sewing threads, and that only made her more perfect. She intertwined her fingers with his and leaned forward on the tips of her toes, seeking him with that warm, inviting mouth, her breathing quickened beneath her dress.

Willard married her twice.

The second time was in the church where she was baptized, with God's blessing. He gave her a white dress and a veil, only to move it away from her face and kiss her when the priest gave him permission. Few people went to the ceremony and neither of them cared, they didn't have a party, they just went home and he carried her to bed.

The first time, however, was in the dark, outside the house. And it smelled like soft earth and lilies.

Willard married his wife the moment he lay on top of her, hearing her soft giggle as she hugged his waist with her legs, squeezing her thighs around him as the tip of his cock entered the folds of that tight, wet-as-hell pussy. heaven should be. He wanted to give her a good bed, but they didn't need that while they were numb with passion, their lips locked in a kiss full of voluptuousness and promises.

You'll never be alone again, he promised as he ran his fingers over her face, removing the strands of hair stuck to her sweaty skin, hitting that pussy.

You'll never be afraid, he gasped, because she was holding him tight and moaning against his neck, trying to contain herself. I didn't want her to have to hold back those sly, tearful, sweet sounds, but I didn't want her mother to suspect that he was between her only daughter's legs, so she whispered, between smiles, so that she would make less noise, and she would also smile, but he couldn't contain himself.

You'll never have to worry about anything in the world, he slid his hand between their bodies, while he felt his dick invading her, and he slid his finger over her folds, on that pulsing beam. He rubbed it just for pleasure and indulgence, watching her squirm, biting her right hand to keep still, as beautiful and ethereal as angels must be. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her on his tongue.

Every day and every night, my blossom, I will be the devil that guards you, her taste was like the best of drinks and the best of drugs. An addiction he would maintain with devotion.

She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging as her walls clenched so tight it was unbearable. He let her cum, kissing her neck and collarbone lovingly, running his hands over her soft breasts. Every day and every night, you will be loved like a goddess and a slut, my blossom, because you are mine.

[kingkat12]

neurotic (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, fingering, smoking, foul language, sort of fluff??

summary: Roman needs his cigarettes... and you need to tell him about your dream last night

word count: 3,442

"You're neurotic," I breathed, shifting around in bed as Roman continued to rummage through his room like a drug addict looking for his next hit. I hadn't seen him like this in a while— the last time had been a few months ago, when work got a little hectic.

"Can't help it," Roman groaned as he opened another drawer, still no sign of his cigarettes. "I can't believe I ran out of this shit, I'm so fucking stupid."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I sat up; I had woken up about three minutes ago from the sound of Roman throwing things out of his closet, desperately trying to figure out if his emergency stash was under his tie-collection or not. Now, he moved on to the nightstand, which allowed me to reach a drowsy hand out for him.

"Rome," I said, voice raspy from my sleep. "Come back to bed."

However, there was no stopping him. Roman continued to chew on his lower lip, which eventually had me worried the skin would tear as he frantically searched the drawers. "God, since when did I have so many condoms?" His slender fingers reached for a large roll of a brand I hadn't seen before, not the usual we use, and Roman took a tiny break as he checked the expiry date. "... These are ones I've had since high school, what the fuck?" Once again, he threw the roll of condoms over his shoulder, tossing it to the ground without a care. 

Roman was like a man possessed. He usually woke up a lot earlier than I did and had a smoke on the balcony, but the denial of his morning ritual had thrown him completely into disarray. 

"Roman," I said, trying to put on my stern voice as he laid down on the floor, now crawling under the bed. This was getting ridiculous. "Stop it, you're going to get all dusty! We'll go out and buy more later, I promise, could you please just?—"

"Hah!" Roman exclaimed, a thud following. My deduction was that he had gotten so excited when he found his emergency cig-stash, that he hit his head against the bottom of the bed. The mental image had me suppressing a giggle; "Found it?"

Roman's head darted up from the edge of the bed— I hadn't seen him smile so brightly since the day I said it would be okay for him to come on my face. Just once. "Indeed," he said, getting up on his feet, reaching for the lighter on the nightstand. 

I groaned, pulling my pillow over my face; "Rome, not inside, please!"

The bed dented next to me as I heard Roman let out a sigh of relief, finally getting a hit— was that a moan? He eased the pillow off my face, giving my cheek a sweet kiss as he made himself comfortable next to me. "Good morning, gorgeous,"

Glaring at him, I did my best not to shove him off the bed. "You're insane,"

"No," Roman snaked an arm under my neck, propping himself up on his elbow as he pulled me closer to his chest. "Not insane. Just an addict." 

I watched him exhale a cloud of smoke at the ceiling, unable to rip my eyes off of the beautiful man in my bed. Despite him having gone absolutely crazy, throwing things around as though his life depended on it, I couldn't deny how sexy Roman looked right now— especially with his soft lips parted, his eyes lazily fluttering with delight, his bare chest heaving in slow strokes; he looked rather post-coital. Fucked. Thoroughly fucked.

I shifted, giving his shoulder a nice bite which had him laughing; "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm an ass," Roman's free hand moved to my hair, giving it a gentle tug away from him. "Wanna hurt me, darling?"

As he continued to hold my hair back like this, the back of my head hitting my pillow again, I met his eyes with a challenging gaze. "For how you woke me up this morning? Definitely,"

Amused, Roman smirked as he inhaled another drag from his cigarette. The second tug to my hair served as a signal; open up. I rolled my eyes, parting my lips as he leaned down, breathing the smoke from his mouth into mine with an open-mouthed kiss.

I couldn't deny that I liked a cigarette every once in a while— I just wasn't an absolute maniac about it like he was. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the feeling of a mix of nicotine and Roman flowing through my veins, my body relaxing further.

"That's my girl," Roman murmured with a smile, lazily balancing his cigarette between his fingers as he leaned down to give my cheek another kiss. "Now, what on earth did you dream about last night? You were tossing and turning like a fucking boat."

Huffing, I gave him a look. After putting me through a rather rude awakening this morning, he just had to inquire about this? Truth be told, I didn't really want to tell him; not when he was in this mood. When Roman got a little neurotic, the smartest thing to do was to keep him calm and at bay— not poke him. "Oh... I don't remember,"

"Sure you do," Roman pulled me closer, my head now resting in the crook of his arm as he ran his fingers over my bare shoulders. This was exactly what I loved about our mornings together; he had the wonderful ability of making it so intimate. All until he had to go and spoil it; "You remember everything, so I'm not buying it. And quite frankly, I think I heard a moan."

Immediately gasping, I turned to look up at him and his dangerously green eyes. "You heard wrong,"

"I most certainly didn't,"

"Well, I—" My words were suddenly caught in my throat. I knew that no matter how much I fought it, he'd somehow rope the truth out of me. Letting out a sigh of defeat, I hid my face in the crook of his arm, muffling my words; "Fine, maybe you did."

Roman smoked another drag with a look of victory on his face, the classic smirk on display. "Do tell,"

I knew that Roman had seen me in every position possible, in probably every scenario possible, but it was still sort of embarrassing admitting to a sex-dream. It felt like I was right back in elementary school again, confessing my love to Derek Campbell— the feeling haunted me, clung to me, even as an adult. In this moment, the feeling was just the same. "Well... you were there,"

Roman hummed; "Glad to have that part confirmed,"

"Fuck you," I gave his chest a playful shove which made him laugh all over again. God, how I loved the sound of that. "It was a little weird, so you have to promise not to make fun of me, okay?"

Roman was nearly finished with his cigarette, pouting at the realization. Despite that, he turned his eyes and attention back to me; "Luckily for you, I'm aware that I'm in no position to kink-shame. So don't you worry your pretty little mind,"

I couldn't help but protest; "It's not a kink-thing! It was just!— Ugh," Deciding to swallow my shame, I took a deep breath. "It was you and I and... my parents' bed." I shuddered, unsure why I had even had that dream in the first place.

Roman's eyes widened, looking down at me with a look of both surprise and delight. "Well, that's not so bad?"

I went back to hiding my face. This was too embarrassing. "It's my subconscious, not me! I've never actually wanted to do that, I think it's super weird!"

"Well..." Roman reached over to the nightstand, putting out his cigarette in the designated bowl. "It's not that weird. Or uncommon. Let's just say you should be glad you didn't know me in high school."

I felt my face flush as he turned back to me, wrapping his free hand around my waist as he now spooned me from behind. "So... what were we doing on this bed?"

I turned to glance at him, meeting his look of lust. I knew exactly where this was going. "Roman, come on, just forget it, please—"

"I'm just curious!" he said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "Curious about whatever your brain is hiding in there. So come on, we were on your parents' bed, and what? Were we making out?"

I sighed, giving in. "Yeah..." 

"Okay, that's a start," Roman's hand around my waist pulled me closer. "So we were making out. And then?"

Fuck. "Then... you started kissing my neck—" I froze as I suddenly felt his lips exactly there, humming against my skin, urging me to continue. Oh? My eyes widened at my sudden newfound control. Would he do the next thing that came out of my mouth? "And... your hand was on my thigh."

I could feel him smile against my skin as his arm left my waist, his fingers now trailing my thigh. He eventually dug his fingers into my hips, dragging me closer to meet his. My breath hitched in my throat as I felt his hard cock pressing against me, my own arousal coming upon me like a big wave. I shouldn't be so surprised— Roman could get hard from literally anything. I specifically remembered one time when I fixed his hair in the car and we suddenly had to wait about five minutes for it to go down. 

Amused, I couldn't help but smile; Roman was slowly making up for the rough morning. "I-I don't really remember exactly how we got there, but I remember your fingers were in me at one point..."

With a slight chuckle, Roman coaxed my legs open, making me shift; half of my body was suddenly on top of his. "Really, now?" he said, his tone teasing as he ran his fingers over my underwear. 

I shivered— "Yeah," I held my breath as Roman got me out of my panties with ease as though he had done it a hundred times before, which he definitely had. 

Roman brought his fingers up to my mouth, tracing my lips as he spoke, his voice soft and low; "And we were alone in the house?"

My breathing was starting to get a little heavier as my eyes met his, round with love and want. "Yeah," I parted my lips, letting him slide two fingers into my mouth. 

Roman's pupils widened, transfixed on the sight beneath him, watching me close my lips around his digits. "That's good," he breathed. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?"

I hummed around his fingers— this was taking a nice turn. 

Roman pressed his lips against my temple as he slowly pulled out of my mouth, his wet fingers leaving a trace from my stomach all the way to between my legs. "Must've felt darn good for you to be moaning like that in your sleep, hm? I know you like a good thrill,"

I let out a whimper as his fingers traced tight circles around my clit, unsure whether I was still dreaming or not. "I do,"

A wide smirk spread across Roman's lips, watching me writhe in pleasure beneath him. "Who would've thought.... My little girl, wanting to be spread out on her parents' bed," 

Before I could protest, my lips parted as I felt him enter a finger in me, letting out a small gasp. My heart was beating so hard, I could barely hear my own thoughts. "Shit, Rome—"

"You like my fingers inside you so much that you dream of it, huh?" Roman's voice darkened as his lips hovered above mine, denying me a kiss. 

I clawed onto the bedding as he entered a second digit, my body giving into quivers of pleasure. "Yes," I breathed, panting against his lips. "Feels so, so..."

Roman pumped his fingers into me as he watched me struggle to speak, his smirk only growing at the squelching sound of his digits going into my wetness. "And then what?"

I could barely think; "What?— Fuck!" My back arched off the bed as he curled his fingers inside me, hitting my sweet spot with ease. 

Amused and satisfied, Roman bit his lip as he watched me; "What happened next?"

How was I supposed to conjure this memory when I was in such a state? I let out a series of whimpers and moans, along with a string of unintelligible words until it suddenly came back to me; "I... got on top of you,"

Roman's fingers slowed down as he met my gaze with a surprised look on his face. "What? You never do that,"

I felt my cheeks flush, finally getting some time to breathe; "I don't know, Rome, I'm just telling you what happened,"

Letting out a laugh, Roman leaned down to (finally) capture my lips, humming in satisfaction. I could sense his cigarettes on his tongue, but I didn't give a damn at this point. "Fine, dig your own grave," he said, slowly pulling his fingers out of me, drawing out a moan of frustration; I felt empty now, and I didn't like it one bit. 

I slowly sat up, dazed and horny beyond belief. I leaned over to kiss Roman once more as he put on a condom, feeling the taste of cigarettes on his tongue. My heart was starting to beat much faster— Roman was right, I was never on top. Mostly because he never let me, and because I usually didn't get the chance to ask before he jumped me.

I let out a yelp as he hooked his fingers around my thighs, dragging me on top of him as though I weighed nothing. My hands rested on his chest as I looked down at him, watching his signature smirk and green, green eyes dart back up at me with excitement.

I couldn't help but feel a little lost— it had been so long since we had done it like this, that I had almost forgotten the logistics of it. However, I did the one move I at least remembered; I sunk myself down on his length, my lips parting in satisfaction.

Roman let out a breathy moan, his hands gripping at my thighs. "Shit," he hissed, relaxing at the feeling of being engulfed in my heat.

But now came the moment where I genuinely felt lost— what the fuck does one do now? It seemed I had possibly not woken up fully just yet. I scoured my brain for the answer, my senses already dulled from the feeling of having him inside me. And it was probably the fact that nothing was happening which had Roman opening his eyes, glancing at me with a questioning look that quickly turned into a bright, beaming look of humorous delight. "Forgot?" 

My face flushed a shade of pink, beyond embarrassed. Suddenly, I was very aware of how compromising this position was. "No, I... just don't know how to start,"

Roman chuckled, shaking his head; "You're so damn cute," His laughter slowly died down, his eyes sparkling with lust. "Let me help you, then." Grabbing my hips, he lifted me a little along his length before guiding me forward, watching me moan as he pushed me back down again. 

My brain quickly pieced it together, slowly getting into a rhythm as I threw my head back in delight; I had forgotten how nice this was. 

"There you go," Roman cooed, his hand now wandering up my stomach. "That's my girl."

Blushing, I felt my body shiver, nipples perking up at his words. I let out a string of moans, feeling his cock inside of me, slipping further in with each thrust. "Fuck, this is so much better," I breathed, looking down to meet his hungry eyes. "So much better in real life."

Roman's lips had parted in pleasure, another breathy moan escaping his lips. I loved to see him like this, so engulfed in the feeling. "Glad to hear it," he said, panting slightly as he reached up to pinch my nipples, gentle as always.

I let out a rather loud whimper, leaning forward to stroke his hair off of his forehead. Finding my eyes, Roman couldn't help but smile; "You look so damn good like this," he breathed, eyes full of love. "We're doing it like this more often, you have no say in it."

"Really, now?" I couldn't help but kiss him, shuddering at the feeling of his cock going in and out of me from this angle. 

Roman hummed against the kiss— I was unsure whether it was a moan or not. "Yeah," he said, the smug smirk back on his lips in no time. "But I'm going to cum at this rate, so change of plans." Roman grabbed my hips, lifting me off of him and throwing me back down on the bed, making me giggle in delight. Crazy man.

I let out a content sigh as he made his way between my legs, allowing me to throw my hands around his neck and rest my legs on top of his; God, how I loved this position. I loved looking up at him, seeing his parted lips, feeling his chest against mine. He was so damn beautiful— always. 

"I guess it's my fault for making you a pillow princess," Roman teased, entering me with a low moan.

My back arched off the bed, biting my lip to hold back a rather loud gasp. "I'm sorry," was the only thing I managed to say, my mind shutting down at the feeling of his cock inside of me once again. 

"Don't be," he whispered, smiling against my lips. "I love having you under me. So small, so sweet... As if I'm going to let you do all the work." Roman grabbed a fistful of my hair, moving my head to the side to give him access to my neck, rolling his hips into mine. "My sweet, sweet girl... Wanna make you feel good..."

What else could I do but moan and agree? "Feels so good," I whimpered. "A-Aah, I love— love you inside of me."

Roman let out a laugh against my neck before he sucked down on a certain spot, drawing forth a hickey. It was clear that he knew what my original ending for that sentence was. "Say it properly," he murmured against my skin, his teeth gently grazing my collarbones.

I wanted to whine about his incessant need to tease me in vulnerable moments, but I didn't want to risk him denying my high. "Love you," My words came out in shallow breaths, my head lolling down against the pillow as I felt my body submit to him.

"Properly,"

I couldn't help but giggle, the slight growl in his voice evoking a familiar tightening in my lower abdomen. Feeling his cock this deep inside of me, knowing I'd have a blooming mark on my neck— this was heaven. The pleasure was moving all the way out to the tips of my fingers, my whole body filling with warmth as I gave in; "I love you,"

Roman came back up, capturing my lips in a sweet kiss as his thrust became hungrier, taking what was rightfully his. "Good girl,"

"Say— Say it back," I was getting dangerously close at this rate, coddled and pleasured. 

Roman could definitely sense it, unable to hold back his cocky smile. "Love you too,"

Fucker. I reached up, giving his hair a proper tug which had him wincing in pleasure; "Fine, fine!" God, I loved his laugh. Reaching down to grab my hips, Roman lifted me up just slightly, making me meet his thrusts. "I love you, baby, you know I do... Fuck, I'm close—"

I couldn't help but smile, feeling as though I was on the brink of delirium. I could forgive Roman for his incessantly stupid need for cigarettes, because nothing could ever match this; the feeling of his cock inside of me, the sounds of our bodies meeting, our heavy breaths mixed, the feeling of his lips against my body. That was all I needed— the knot in my stomach grew impossibly tight as I pulled him closer by his hair, our noses nudging as the knot suddenly released, making me moan out against him as my body quivered in rapture.

Watching the display beneath him along with the tug of his hair was enough to push Roman over the edge as well, letting out a low groan as he came hard, fingers digging into my hips with a harsh grip which I knew would bruise.

Falling down limp next to me, we both panted in bliss, mouths parted and open next to each other. I loved these mornings with Roman, no matter how neurotic he was at times.

"You smell like cigarettes," I breathed, nudging my nose against his.

Roman hummed; "And you smell like me,"

[inklore]

I took this concept from your inpso tag and adapted it but:

Roman Godfrey + choking you and whispering "you're mine." in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. bonus points if there's blood.

LOVE YOUUU

playful poison

— roman godfrey x (f)reader

word count: 628

warnings: eighteen+ content, rough-ish p in v, choking, jealousy, dirty talk, mentions of creampie and blood.

note: me writing roman godfrey smut in 2023? embarrassing but hello i cannot be responsible for my actions when men are as beautiful as him ok.

Maybe it was childish of you to love the thrill of the game. No matter how one sided and deliberately rigged it was. The threat of the outcome ending in something gruesome or with your lungs burning from a fight that you started the minute you decided to bat your eyes at some sorry sucker at the bar. The thrill that shot through you when Roman’s eyes would scan the room with neutrality, his entire body growing stiff, an undeniable tick in his jaw, when his eyes fell upon you.

Upon the little scheme you had devised. 

A scheme he knew all too well—a game he only allowed you to play on nights when he was in a good mood. 

And thankfully for you, he was in a good mood tonight. A giving mood. 

A mood that wouldn’t end in a screaming match but rather the reason you kept the game going. The outcome of a move you already had planned and hoped for even before your chess pieces had been put on the table. 

“You’re mine.” His teeth graze your ear as he whispers the words with harsh restraint. The hot breath from his mouth heats your already hot body to something sweltering. Something that has you gripping his sides harder. “You know that, right? Your constant need for a reminder has my patience wearing thin,” he whispers, barely holding the bite meant to be within them. His thumb rubs the skin on your neck before he tightens his grip around your throat. 

A gasp pulls from your lungs before he closes them completely. His hips languid and slow as he fucks you. As he takes his time to drive his cock into your aching pussy. 

His teeth nip into your neck, “do I need to repeat myself?” Your body arches into his when you feel the light nick of a fang. “Do I need to drain you of everything until you’re begging for the life only I can give you? Do you need that reminder?” The swivel of your head is barely able to make the same impact as the whimper you let out does. “You do look so fucking pretty covered in your own blood, though,” he grunts. 

The heat of his other palm grips the back of your thigh as he pulls your leg further up his body, driving his cock deeper into you. The head of his cock pushing against that part of your walls that makes you cry out until your throat is hoarse and you’re not sure if it’s pain or pleasure—or the lack of air getting to your lungs from the hand around your throat—that has you spineless and weak beneath him. 

If there are two things you know for certain about Roman, it’s that he uses fucking as a tactic to get what he wants and to punish. 

And with the harsh rut of his pelvis, the relentless pounding, you know that he’s getting off on your pain. Of your oversensitivity, of the need that he’s giving on the same stroke he withholds from touching and hitting the spots that would have you coming on his cock. 

You haven’t earned it yet. 

You know he’s thinking. That he’s testing you. That he’s playing a game with your pleasure, the same game you played with him earlier. The same game both of you are used to, but your body still has yet to not ache and mewl from the torment of it all. 

“I can feel your cunt gripping my dick. You know what to say to get what you want. Or should we keep playing games, and I fill your hole and leave it dripping, and wanting for something you don’t deserve because you don’t know how to behave?”