I mean he must have one but it doesn't seem very overt or on display in the book/tv show or the movies. I kind of wish he had more of one. He's really just a predator = killing kids and luring them.
Has anyone been able to make out a personality for him? I can't see it but if someone else has can you tell me about it? I genuinely want to think about this guy having a personality. Otherwise he's not that fun to write imo.
Girl, I was thinking about grim/makeup artist on set and Bill. Just think about it, grim takes a crazy amount of time, it would be hard not to catch any feelings during that. How are we feeling about that?
Feel free to not respond if its not to your liking))
You’re Eye-fucking Me, Aren’t You? (Bill Skarsgård x Reader)
Summary: You’re a makeup artist working on The Crow, painstakingly applying Bill Skarsgård’s makeup for hours every day. It would be hard enough to focus just looking at him, but Bill seems determined to make your job a million times harder.
Word Count: 6852
Warnings: NSFW, handjob, PiV sex
DISCLAIMER: Tragically, I do not own Bill Skarsgård or any of the other people in this story. This is a complete work of fiction and I don't claim otherwise. Pls don't sue me.
MDNI, fic under the cut
There’s a level of professionalism that you just have to maintain working in the movie business. Because you’re going to spend a whole lot of time up close and personal with some of the world’s hottest people, and that can be distracting as hell. In the seven years you’ve been doing Special Effects makeup, you’ve developed an impressive ability to tune out the person sitting in your chair. Sure, you’ve had your starstruck moments, applying a complicated array of injuries to Josh Hutcherson last year had been a bit of a fangirl moment, but after the first day and the initial awkwardness of working in such close proximity to him, you’d gotten over it and been the picture of efficient professionalism. That was the feedback you got most often on jobs. Professional. Efficient. As well as some… less favourable comments. Quiet. Cold. Rude. But it was these things that made you so fucking good at your job. The quickest and most accurate, when you weren’t being distracted with small talk and pleasantries. So the jobs kept coming, and by the start of the year you really did have your pick of the projects you wanted to work on.
“Prague?” Michael asks, brandishing your phone at you. “You’re gunna be gone for the whole summer.”
You hum non-committedly, taking your phone from him. “It’s a good opportunity.”
“It’s my parents wedding anniversary in August. You knew that.”
“I’m not…” you sigh, trying to put on your most patient voice. “I can’t book work based on your parents’ life events. That isn’t… reasonable.”
Michael narrows his eyes at you. “It feels like you’re not committed to this. To me. To making this work. You’re never here, and then you take jobs like this without even talking to me about it first.”
“Talking to you about it? Like I need your permission?”
Michael blinks. “I mean… yeah? Kinda. Like not in a yes or no way, but my blessing? My okay, as your boyfriend.”
“I don’t care whether you’re okay with it or not.” The words are out before you can censor yourself, and Michael jerks back like you’ve slapped him.
“Well there it is, then. There it is.”
“Michael.” You sigh, pocketing your phone. “I like you a lot. But this is my career. You knew that when you met me.”
“So I’m just not gunna see you for three months?”
“Ten weeks.” You say quietly.
His expression darkens. “I don’t wanna do long-distance for the whole summer. I can’t promise I’m not gunna look elsewhere while you’re gone.”
It’s like he’s flipped a switch inside you. You’ve never gotten the ick so fast in your life. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Huh? Like, we do an open thing while you’re gone?”
“No.” You scoff. “If you don’t think you can keep your cock in your pants for a couple of weeks whilst I’m away, we should take the pressure off, right? I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Problem solved.”
“I didn’t… shit. No, wait. Wait!” He takes a step towards you, and you take a step back, towards the door.
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, but it’s fine. This has clearly run its course, and you’re clearly not that into me if you can’t stay faithful while I’m at work.”
“Wait,” he shakes his head. “You’re twisting my words here. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, I know. You were trying to manipulate me or scare me into cancelling the job and staying here with you. Which is worse, actually.” You’ve reached the door now, and you open it without turning your back on him. “So thank you, for making it so much easier for me. Now you can fuck whoever you want all summer long, and so can I.”
His jaw tightens at that, and you feel a thrill of vindication down your spine as you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone in his apartment.
*
You don’t miss Michael. You don’t, but it still feels a little bit hollow as climb out of your Uber at the airport. He’d always drive you or take you all the way to the shoot if it was on home soil. Couples and families and friends embrace each other all around you as you drag your suitcase up the ramp and into the airport, and you busy yourself with studying the concept sketches you’d been sent to avoid having to watch all the affectionate goodbyes.
Your guy had tattoos. A lot of them, all over his body and some on his face. The director didn’t want transfers, so you’d spent weeks crafting stencils and you’d have to airbrush them on regularly throughout shooting. And then, half way through, his makeup got dark and heavy. Horror movie heavy, actually. You can’t help the excited smile that stretches across your face as you scan over the design. It’s cool, and it’ll be fun to create it. You’d looked up the actor you’d be working on, obviously. Bill Skarsgård, the Pennywise guy. If he could sit for the hours it had taken the SFX team to apply all of that, he’d be able to sit for you no problem. You’d known one of the guys who worked on IT, and you’d given him a call. Artists were good at giving each other a heads up about difficult actors, but he’d had nothing but nice things to say about Skarsgård. “He’s super professional. I mean, like actually. Not much of a talker, but he doesn’t fidget. He knows the deal.” Safe to say you were feeling pretty confident walking onto set for the first time. Filming didn’t start for another week or so, but the director wanted to do some test shooting in full makeup.
“Oh good, you’re early.” Daniel holds out a hand. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
You smile, shaking his hand. “Good to see you, Dan. It’s been… two years?”
“Three.” He says. “Matrix.”
“Right, right. Well, thanks for recommending me for this. I’ve never been to Prague.”
“It’s beautiful this time of year.” His gaze travels to the side of you, and you hear a door open behind you. “Speaking of beautiful things, our canvas just walked in.”
You turn, and your breath actually hitches in your throat. Because, yeah, you’d looked up Bill Skarsgård when you took the job. But seeing him in person is… different. He’s so damn tall, and even in loungewear you can see how broad his shoulders are. Big green eyes fix on you from his angular face, and his lips curl up in a half-smile. “Hello.”
It’s humiliating. You’re humiliated, standing there in painful silence as he looks at you.
“Bill, hey.” Daniel says, brushing you gently to the side so he can shake the man’s hand. “Good flight in?”
“Sure. I took a nap.”
“Ah, so you’re ready to get right into it? This is…” He trails off, maybe noticing the dumb look on your face for the first time. “I tell you what, why don’t we grab you a coffee? Caffeinate, right?”
“I’d love a coffee.” Bill smiles, his eyes sliding back over you. Your legs feel like lead weights, pinning you to the ground, and you’re grateful because you feel so lightheaded you think you might faint if you were responsible for holding yourself up.
“This way.” Daniel points to a door through to the production area and shoots you a look over his shoulder. “Get it together.” He mouths.
As soon as they’re out of the room, you suck in a breath, exhaling shakily. What the actual fuck was that? You’ve never, ever reacted like that to anybody. And it wasn’t because he was famous. He’s been in some great movies, but you’ve worked with Oscar winners and seasoned pros. It was the electricity of his eyes, pinning you to the ground. It was the curve of his lips as he smiled. You couldn’t wait to paint those pretty lips. That is, if you could remember how to hold a goddamn brush.
You hear the door opening again and you force yourself to move, crossing to the bare worksurface and opening your makeup bags. With something to do you don’t find yourself so frozen, and you busy yourself with tacking the concept art to the mirror and pretending he isn’t there. Until “I got you a cappuccino.”
“What?” You don’t look at him, and you hope your voice doesn’t sound as weird out loud as it does in your own ears.
“Daniel said that’s your drink of choice. I got you one.”
And it would be rude not to look at him, wouldn’t it? So you turn, offering him a smile and a quick look as you reach for the cardboard cup. Your fingers brush against his, and you feel the touch like a shock, jerking your hand back.
“Unless you’re already all caffeined up. A little jumpy, huh?”
You swallow, forcing your hand to steady as you wrap your fingers around the cup further up, careful to avoid his skin. “Long day. Jetlag, maybe.”
Bill hums, settling into the chair in front of you. “Well I know what that’s like. I’ll go easy on you.”
You choke on nothing at the words, and Bill can’t stop himself from smirking. He’s fresh off a nasty breakup, pissed that he’s had to leave Stockholm right as the weather’s getting so good, and he’s feeling… destructive. You’re like a gift from the gods, flustered and stuttering and so clearly overwhelmed by him. You’re going to be such a fun distraction from all the rest of the shit going on in his life. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re pretty. That you’re beautiful, even. No, that doesn’t hurt at all. He watches your hands shake as you lean over the vanity to pin a picture of his face to the mirror, and he reaches out to brush his fingertips against your inner thigh. You jump back so fast you actually fall, sending brushes scattering over the floor. “Shit, sorry. I was just…” he retrieves a sketch of his crow makeup from the back of the vanity, tapping his fingers against it. “Studying, right?”
You’re breathing hard, and the little slip of thigh he’d touched is tingling in a way that’s unsettling. “Right. I’ve… I mean I think it’ll look good.”
“Yeah,” Bill hums, scanning over the paper. His mouth curves into a smirk at the pitchy sound of your breathing, and you furrow your brows. Had he… done that on purpose? Was he trying to get under your skin? The idea sends a shiver down your spine.
*
“Rupert isn’t worried about the ink so much.” Daniel says, perched on the opposite end of the vanity to you. You’re both looking at Bill, who is flicking through apps on his phone in the makeup seat between you. “But he thinks the crow makeup could do some interesting things, especially with all the rain and the underwater work.”
“We can waterproof.”
“I think he wants it to run a little. Like, organically.”
You hum, reaching out to pluck a palette from the table. “If we use the semi-proof, we can get him wet and see what happens.”
Bill scoffs under his breath, his cock stirring at your words. If he has his way, it’ll be you getting wet, actually.
“Alright, run with that. I’ve got some molding to do in the studio, you good here?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you feel your cheeks burn. You’ve never, ever given anyone cause to worry about your ability, and you’re not about to start now.
You nod tightly. “Perfectly fine. I’ll call you when we’re ready for tests.”
Daniel nods, pushing off the desk and clapping Bill on the shoulder. “Be good for her. She’s been known to spank actors who can’t sit still.”
Bill’s eyes lift to you, fresh amusement sparking in them. “Interesting.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, even as your stomach churns. “He’s joking, but there’s a first time for everything.”
Bill’s smirk widens. “I’ll try to… be good, then.” His eyes flick down the length of your body, and you swallow hard as arousal pulses in your core.
Bill Skarsgård is a beautiful canvas, but your SFX friend from the IT set is a goddamn liar. Because he isn’t professional. Not even close. You’re standing between his legs, tracing a thin pencil from the corners of his eyes down to his lips because you need this first line to be symmetrical. And Bill’s looking right at you. Sometimes his eyes dip to your cleavage where it spills a little out of your shirt at this angle, but mostly he’s just looking at you. You feel the prickle of sweat in your hairline, and your hand shakes on the pencil.
“Everything okay?” He asks, and your eyes flicker closed briefly as his breath ghosts against your mouth.
“Just… need to focus.” You mutter.
Bill hums, and you freeze at the feeling of his hands on your legs, wrapping around the back of your knees. “You seem a little unsteady on your feet.”
You swallow thickly. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Bill smirks, his mouth pulling up on one side and ruining the line you were in the process of drawing.
“Mr Skarsgård, please hold still.”
He huffs. “Oh it’s Mr Skarsgård, is it?”
You reach out to grip his chin tightly, holding his face steady as you try to correct the smudge of black on his cheek. “Bill.”
Bill licks over his bottom lip, revealing the fresh pink of his skin underneath the wet makeup still drying on his mouth. “You seem really annoyed.” He says, fingers skimming up to graze over your ass. “This your first gig?”
You pull back then, fixing him with what you hope is a steely glare. “No, but you’re behaving like an asshole. Is it yours?”
Bill leans back, letting his hands fall away from your thighs and bringing them to rest in his lap. “You’re right. I’m being inappropriate. It’s the… uh you know. Swedish sense of humor, maybe.”
You doubt that very much, but he seems repentant enough so you reach for a cotton swab and remove the trace of black paint from his cheek before lowering to hover in front of his face again. “Hold still, please.”
Bill does, this time. He remains frozen as you paint a thick, even line from the corner of his mouth to his eye. You cup his jaw gently as you draw a matching line on the other side, and your fingers slip to graze against the bob of his throat as you withdraw. Bill’s cock stirs at the light graze of your nails on his skin, and he’s glad his hands are resting in his lap to cover himself. You perch on the vanity, tilting your head to the side as you assess his face.
“You don’t blink much.”
You roll your eyes, blinking deliberately a few times in rapid succession. “Not when I’m trying to focus, no.”
“It’s unnerving.”
Your eyes snap to his face, your eyebrows raising into your hairline at his words. “You wanna talk about unnerving, Bill? Your eyes take up half your face you know.”
Bill’s mouth pulls up into a lopsided smirk. “I book a lot of jobs off these babies.”
You can believe it, too. Bill’s face is as interesting as it is beautiful. You’re enjoying painting it, enjoying every moment you get to look at him. Even if he’s being distracting on purpose. “Well stop moving and let me work on the moneymaker, then.”
Bill huffs a laugh, but he goes still as your fingers graze along the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his head this way and that as you assess the symmetry of his makeup.
“What’s the verdict?” He doesn’t mean to give in first, but your fingers are maddening as they brush lightly against his jaw and he thinks he might combust if you don’t stop.
You wrinkle your nose. “I need a second opinion.”
You slide off the vanity and leave him alone in the room, and Bill runs his fingers over the warm patch on the counter where you’d been sitting. He feels a carnal urge to lean over and inhale, but he fights it. Too weird, even for him. At least this early on in the game, anyway.
You return a minute later with Daniel in tow, and Bill glances at his face in the mirror, grateful that the grim, black makeup obscures the blush he can feel spreading up the sides of his neck and over his cheeks.
“Oh, yeah.” Daniel hums, walking slowly around the chair. “Oh yeah, that’s it.”
Bill swallows, focusing on his reflection and not on the way you’re studying him.
“Right? I added some little lines here,” you ghost your fingers over the corner of his eye and Bill fights the urge to flinch. “Messier. More authentic, y’think?”
“Take some polaroids, get them to Rupert. Let’s see what he thinks.”
You nod, scooping the camera off the vanity and flashing off a shot of his side profile. “Look at me, please.”
Bill does, and you snap another picture before reaching for his chin and lifting his jaw a fraction. “Hold it there.”
Bill feels heat churn in his stomach at the distracted, commanding way you say it. This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s supposed to make you squirm, not the other way around.
“Just a few more of these and we can get you cleaned up.”
Bill’s cock throbs in his sweats at that, and he pictures you on your knees, licking black greasepaint from his cock like some kind of demon. Sick fuck.
He shakes his head to clear the image, hips shifting around the increasingly painful swelling in his pants. “Do you wanna grab something to eat after this?”
You freeze, camera obscuring your face, but Bill notes the tension in your shoulders. “Uh. Oh, I mean, I was just going to grab something to-go. Wanna settle in.”
“You can’t spare me an hour? To, you know, cut through this awkwardness? We’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next couple of months. I’d feel more comfortable if you didn’t flinch every time I moved.”
Heat burns in your cheeks as you open and close your mouth. So you hadn’t been subtle. And he wasn’t going to let you off, either. Direct Swedish fucking bullshit. “I don’t think…”
“I think it’s a stellar idea.” Daniel says absently. He’s pretending to fuss with a rack of black leather trenchcoats, but he’s clearly listening. “There is a vibe. It might do you both some good.”
Your teeth snap together, and Bill sees a muscle in your jaw tick in irritation. You don’t like being manipulated into doing things, but Daniel is sort of your boss and he’s just turned this into sort of a work thing. You nod tightly, and Bill grins.
The makeup splits his mouth open too wide, and he looks ghoulish, but you try to return the smile anyway. “Grabbing dinner would be great. Thanks, Bill.”
*
You’re supposed to be annoyed. You are annoyed that you’d been strong-armed into this dinner, but it’s so hard to keep it up when Bill is being so insanely charming.
“I saw the work you did on The Witch.” Bill says, skewering a piece of steak so rare you half expect it to start mooing. “Really exceptional.”
You blink at him. “You… know my work?”
He shrugs. “I make it my business to get to know talented people. Especially talented people who I get the opportunity to work closely with.”
“Well… thanks, Bill.” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden, like this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you. And it isn’t, but it’s so completely unexpected from Bill that you’re blindsided.
Bill watches your face flush as you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and stare at your plate. He hasn’t got a fucking clue what you did for The Witch. He doesn’t pay attention to makeup and wardrobe for films he isn’t in, of course he doesn’t. But it’s worth the bullshit to watch you squirm under his praise.
“You seen any of my work?” He prompts, fixing you with a smirk.
“I mean, sure.” You push pasta around your plate before taking a nervous sip of wine. “My friend worked on the IT set, so I watched that one.”
“Worked on me?” Bill asks, already mentally sifting through the names and faces he remembered from long hours in the SFX chair.
“No… I mean I don’t think so, not directly. But he said you were a pro. Nobody has any complaints about you, far as I know.”
Bill hums, chewing thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have messed with you today.”
Your fork clatters to your plate. “So you were doing it on purpose.” You’re not as mad as you should be. It’s actually a relief to have it vocalised, in a way.
“You look really fucking cute when you’re flustered. You’ll have to forgive a man his vices.”
You huff a laugh. “You’re something else, Skarsgård.”
Bill grins at you, a faint pink dusting across his cheeks as he sips from his wine. “Right back at you.”
It shouldn’t be a surprise to you that you’re staying in the same hotel as Bill, but somehow it still is. Maybe it’s because he walks you to your room, rather than parting ways in the lobby or the elevator, but suddenly Bill Skarsgård is leaning against the wall beside your door and the air in the corridor seems to have been sucked into a vacuum and you’re lightheaded and tongue-tied.
“Thanks for coming out with me.” He says.
“Yeah. I had a good time. It was nice to… get to know you a little better.”
You feel a searing heat on your fingers and jerk your hand back, only to find Bill attached to it, his long fingers laced with yours as his thumb rubs circles on your palm. “You could get to know me a lot better if you invited me in.”
You laugh. You don’t even mean to, but it’s so absurd and so tempting and you laugh because if you don’t, you’ll kiss him. And you can’t kiss him. Makeup artists who fuck actors get reputations, and you’re not about to jeopardize your career over a pretty face and a charming, Swedish smile.
“Am I that repulsive?” Bill pouts, but there’s an edge to his tone and a tightness to his smile that stops your laughter.
“No. I mean, God, obviously not. It’s just that… well that was a line, wasn’t it? Has it worked for you before?”
Bill’s brows furrow into a frown. “Most of the time, yeah.”
“That’s good.” You nod absently as you slip your keycard from your purse and disengage the door lock. “I wish you every success using it on the next girl.”
Bill steps forward, fingers catching on your arm and turning you back to face him. “Are you saying no?”
You lick your lips, eyes raking down his body and then slowly, slowly back up to his face. “I’m saying no, Bill. Good night, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You step into your room and close the door, and Bill stands in the corridor trying to process what the fuck just happened. It’s never happened to him before. Bill wouldn’t consider himself like overconfident or anything, but he genuinely hadn’t been turned down since he was maybe sixteen. He stares at your door, wondering if you’re pressed up against the other side, and runs a hand through his hair. You let him down gently, but in doing so you’d just made yourself the most interesting target Bill has had in his entire adult life.
*
Bill’s already sitting patiently in his chair when you arrive at the studio the next day, and you slow your pace as you approach him. There’s a glint in his eye and a smirk on his face, and both things send a bolt of apprehension through you.
“You’re early.”
“Well I had nothing to keep me up late.” Bill looks you over, taking in the simple loose tee and skirt combo. Your own face is bare despite your profession, and it makes you look younger, cuter.
“Right.” You roll your eyes as you begin laying out the products you’ll need. “I’m hoping we’ll get the feedback from Rupert before we start on the-“
“We got it.”
You turn to him with a raised brow, and Bill lifts the manilla envelope from his lap and holds it out to you. “These were on the desk when I came in.”
You snatch the envelope from him, irritation making your movements snappy as you pull out the polaroids from the previous day. Rupert had written notes on the back and drawn on Bill’s face with a sharpie. “Huh.”
“You’re too neat.” Bill supplies, and you shoot him a glare.
“He wants more emphasis on the fluidity of the black makeup.” You mutter, more to yourself than to Bill. “To make it look like you’re crying.”
“I think I can muster up some tears for you.” Bill says, biting down on the inside of his cheek until his eyes water.
“Oh you can-Hey!” You reach out, cupping his jaw and rubbing your thumb against the point where his flesh is hollow against his cheekbone. “Stop that, jesus christ, Bill. I’m just gunna spray you with a little bit of water to see how the makeup interacts with it. You don’t need to injure yourself.”
Bill hums, releasing the inside of his cheek and turning his head to brush his lips over your fingers. “Always willing to go above and beyond to get the job done.”
You feel arousal throb thickly in your core, and you withdraw your hand from his mouth. “Appreciated, but wholly unnecessary. Gimme ten minutes to apply the initial lines, and we’ll get started.”
Bill is surprisingly good as you apply the spindly black lines from the corners of his mouth up to his eyes. He doesn’t move, and his breathing is so shallow you have to hover close to his mouth a few times just to be sure he’s actually doing it. He’s the perfect canvas, when he wants to be, which makes his bad behavior yesterday all the more annoying. But he had sort of apologized, and he was being good now, so you let it slide.
You pick up a plastic spray bottle of water and shake it. “You ready to get wet?”
Bill licks his lips, shifting back in his chair and spreading his legs a little wider. “Be gentle with me.”
You roll your eyes as a blush creeps up the sides of your neck and spritz his face with cold water. Bill flinches, and you take a moment to feel a little satisfaction at that before the lid to the bottle wobbles free. You watch it happen as though in slow motion as the bottle drops onto Bill’s lap, dousing him in cold water.
Bill yelps, half rising from his seat before dropping back down. His hands claw at the fabric of his shirt as it clings to his chest and stomach, the white cotton revealing the ridges of muscle beneath.
Your eyes drop and you can’t lift them back up. You fucking try to, as Bill splutters and gasps and you know you’re supposed to apologize and get him a towel or something, but you just can’t. look. away.
Bill notices. Once the initial shock of the cold water wears off, it’s impossible to ignore the way you’re looking at him; like you want to swallow him whole. His cock responds in kind, twitching and stirring with growing interest under the heat of your stare.
“You’re eye-fucking me, aren’t you?” He asks.
You still don’t look up, but your tongue pokes out to glide unconsciously over your bottom lip. “I… didn’t mean to…” You sigh. “Yeah.”
Bill expected the stuttering. He expected an apology. He didn’t expect you to admit to the eye-fucking, and the fact that you still haven’t really even registered that you’ve done so is almost hot. The wet, rough denim of his jeans is made uncomfortable by the thickening of his cock, and he shifts his hips. “This doesn’t feel great.”
Your eyes drop lower, widening a little at the sight of his erection pressing against the fabric. Bill watches your pupils expand as your lips part around an inaudible gasp. “You’re hard.”
“And wet.” He adds, hooking his fingers into the hem of his shirt and dragging it up and off. “And you’re still looking.”
You blink then, shaking your head a little to clear the lust-induced fog from your mind. “Shit. Sorry. I should… uh I’ll get you a towel, give you some privacy, I-“ You turn to go, and Bill grabs your hand.
“Don’t. I mean, you can look. I’ve seen the concept art, you’re going to have to cover me in tattoos, right?”
You swallow, nodding. “I’ve… got some stencils… but Rupert wants to get this right before we-“
“There’s a horses head here, right?” He mumbles, dragging your hand closer and pressing your hand to his ribs until you flatten your palm against his skin.
“Yes,” you whisper, fingers tracing the shape of it.
Bill shivers at the contrast of your warm touch to his cold, damp skin before guiding your hand across his abs. “A broken lock, here.”
You swallow thickly. “The chains will wrap around your ribs.”
You don’t need him to guide you as you draw your fingers around to the other side of his ribs and then lower. “And words here.”
Bill knows what the words are. He’d almost blushed the first time he’d looked at the sketch. Now he thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t hear you say them out loud. He thinks he might die if you do, too.
“Good boy,” you whisper. Your fingers trail lower, running along the waistband of his jeans in a careful question, and Bill lifts his hips.
“Wanna help me out of these wet jeans?”
You don’t respond, but you do work open the button and the zipper on his jeans and Bill helps you shove them down past his knees. His boxers are soaked too, and he’s a little relieved about that because the water masks the damp leak of precum staining the front a shade darker than the rest of the fabric.
“I should get you that towel.”
Bill hums. “You should… help me out. With this.”
His words are a little commanding, and it sends a bolt of arousal throbbing through your clit. “I shouldn’t.”
“Yeah,” he teases, taking your wrist again and pressing your hand against his stiff cock. “You should.”
You let your fingers curl around his length and squeeze, and Bill lets out a pretty little moan as his head falls back against the chair. “Daniel could walk in any minute.” You murmur, but you’re already slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and gliding your nails lightly against his bare cock. “I’d get fired.”
“No,” he sighs, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth and pushing it back out through his teeth. “I’d intervene.”
You roll your eyes even as his words stir butterflies in your stomach. “Chivalrous.”
Bill’s eyes open, pools of hazy green as he watches your hand move inside his boxers. “We could have done this last night in an actual bed, but-“ he cuts off with a little groan as you twist your fingers over the head of his cock. “Shit, that’s good.”
You don’t respond with words, letting your fingers coax a fresh bead of precum from his slit to massage into his frenulum before jerking your fist back down his length and squeezing him hard at the base. You repeat this motion over, and over, and over again, until Bill is a writhing mess of pants and moans and ‘pleases’ whispered under his breath. His hips buck up to meet you with every twist of your wrist, and your arm is aching from the repetitive motion and the awkward angle, but you can feel he’s getting close. “You gunna cum?”
Bill can only nod, his face flushed and his eyes glassy as he feels his orgasm building. “Close.” He spits, hips jerking up to force his cock through your fist faster and harder. The muscles in his stomach tighten, the tightly wound cord of arousal pulling taut before you yank your hand out of his pants and throw his wet shirt into his lap. Bill is about to snatch your hand back and shove it into his boxers when he hears the distinctive click of the door opening and his eyes go wide, fixed on you with sheer panic as you look anywhere but at him.
“How are we doing this mor-oh, hello.” Daniel stares at Bill, one eyebrow raised. “We’re not inking him until next week.”
“I know.” You say, tapping your fingers absently against your lips. They’re still slick with his precum, and Bill’s neglected cock leaks in protest as his mouth waters. “I dropped a bottle of water on him when we were testing methods to make it look like he’s crying the makeup off.”
Daniel steps closer, examining Bill’s face. If he notices the flush to his cheeks he mercifully doesn’t say so, though his eyes do scan over Bill’s bare torso and the distinct point where he’s pressing his balled-up shirt over his erection.
“How did you get it to look so… chaotic?” Daniel asks, gesturing at the smudges around Bill’s eyes. “He looks manic.”
Bill’s fingers flex on the wet shirt hiding his cock, and you force yourself to look away, busying yourself with arranging your brushes. “That’s all him. He’s working on getting into the mindset of a lovesick avenger, right Bill?”
Bill swallows thickly, shifting in his seat. His cock aches and he’s feeling over exposed under the scrutiny of the two artists, and he wishes Daniel would go away so he can push your hand back into his underwear. Or impale you directly on his cock, preferably. “Only made possibly by your talented hands.”
You flush, and Bill feels a sense of grim satisfaction at making you blush. Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Alright, I’m beginning to feel like a third wheel in my own studio. I’m gunna go grab a cup of coffee.” He glances at Bill’s covered crotch again. “And maybe breakfast. I’ll be gone a while.”
You flush deeper, and Bill stares at his own hands until he hears the door close.
“Shit.” You whisper, running your hand through you hair. “Shit, he knew. Shit.”
“He seemed okay with it.” Bill throws his wet shirt to the floor and stands, bracketing you against the vanity and planting his hands on the mirror either side of your head. “And now we have time.”
You swallow thickly. “This is unprofessional. I don’t usually…”
“Me neither.” Bill leans in, brushing his lips delicately against your cheek. “But there’s something about you.”
You hum, turning your head to the side as Bill feathers kisses down your throat. His hands leave the mirror to grip your hips, tugging you towards the end of the vanity until your core is pressed to his boxers. “There isn’t anything about me.” Your voice is little more than a breathless moan, and Bill’s cock twitches against your heat as he leans back enough to look at your face.
“Yeah, there is.” He says, all traces of teasing gone for a moment. He lifts a hand to cup your face, and you lean in to press your mouth to his. Bill stills, his lips frozen against yours for a moment before he relaxes into the kiss, parting your lips and licking his tongue into your mouth. You whimper, arms lifting to loop around his neck. His makeup smears onto your mouth, the taste acrid, but you don’t care. You can taste him underneath it, coffee and the spicy undertone of tobacco.
He pulls away, cupping his hands under your ass and flipping you over. You brace your hands against the vanity as Bill plants your feet on the ground and kicks your legs further apart. “You’re fucking hot,” he murmurs, running a hand down your spine. “Look.”
You don’t want to, but Bill leans forward and wraps a hand around your throat, pulling your head up so you’re forced to meet your own glassy eyes in the mirror. “I should clean up the-“
“No,” he whispers, reaching back to tug his cock out of his boxers before lifting your skirt up around your waist. “Every time we’re here, every time I’m sitting in that chair and you’re pressing your perfect tits right in my face as you-“ he glides his fingers through your slick and pushes two fingers into you, feeling you quiver and tug at the intrusion. “work on me, holy shit.” He stammers, pulling his fingers out and spreading your wetness down his length before pushing the head of his cock into you. “Every time you work on me, we’ll both be here.” He pushes into you in one long thrust, bottoming out and sending you sprawling against the vanity. Bill tightens his grip on your throat, keeping your eyes fixed on your own reflection as he fucks into you. “Look how good you look.”
You glance up at him, at the way he bites his blackened lip into his mouth as his face crunches up in concentrated bliss. “Tell me how it feels.”
You whimper, swallowing against the weight of his palm on your throat. “Feels good, Bill. You feel so good.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, reaching his free hand around your hip to circle your clit as you grind back against him. “You gunna cum for me?”
You nod, pressing your lips together to hold in a scream as Bill’s cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.
“Pretty girl,” he spits, hips snapping hard against your ass. “Making it so hard to focus.”
You scoff even through the haze of your pleasure, because who the hell is he to accuse you of making it hard to focus when he’s been staring and touching and teasing you since the moment he arrived in your studio?
“I’m gunna come in you,” he moans. “Gunna fill you up.”
You can’t stop your orgasm washing through you at the filthy possessive edge to his words, and you clamp down on his cock as you ride the waves of your release against his hand.
Bill feels the flutter of your muscles and the way you soak his fingers, and his own release follows you. He holds himself still inside you, grinding his hips into your ass in tiny, precise motions as his cock twitches and spills his load into your heat. And God, it was better than he’d thought it would be. To watch you come apart for him, to watch your eyes well up with tears and your lips part around a whine of his name as you came… it was the best cure for a bad breakup.
Bill pulls out of you and leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder before he drops back into his seat and tucks his softening cock away. “Goddamn.”
Your legs are shaky as you push yourself up from the vanity and smooth your underwear back over your soaked pussy. You can feel the wet squelch of his cum seeping out of you to slick in your underwear, and it should be gross but it isn’t. Not with how pretty he looks, sitting in your chair obediently waiting for you to return. “Are you gunna make this hard for me?” You ask with as much sternness as you can muster.
Bill’s smirk is sinful as it spreads lazily across his face, pulling his crow makeup into an unsettling leer. “You’re making it hard all by yourself.”
You glance down at his crotch, heat pulsing fresh in your core. “This is going to be impossible.”
Bill huffs a laugh. “No,” he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt and pulls you closer, leaning forward to cup your jaw and pull your face down to his for a soft kiss. “I’ll be good… at work.”
You raise an eyebrow, lifting your thumb to brush a smudge of makeup from the corner of his mouth. “And outside of work?”
He licks the pad of your thumb, drawing the digit into his mouth and sucking gently before releasing it. “I’m gunna thoroughly ruin you, sweetheart.”
You feel his hand creep up under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass in his wide palm, and your eyes flutter closed. This was going to be the hardest job of your life, and you couldn’t wait.
notes: because I saw this photo and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since
Warnings and Tags: smut 18+ MDNI, reader is afab, no use of y/n, car sex, blowjobs, deepthroating, unprotected pnv sex, established relationship, breeding kink (a tiny bit at the end)…I think that’s it! If I missed anything please tell me and I’ll update the tags. — not proofread
It was day two of a five day roadtrip across the country you and your boyfriend Bill were going on. It had been a dream of yours to go on this trip and your boyfriend had surprised you on your birthday with the news that he was taking you.
So far it was going smoothly. Your boyfriend enjoyed driving so you rarely had to take over. The two of you had checked out of some lowkey shady motel in the middle of nowhere, an hour into the drive now and you were excited. As you moved across the empty and open roads, the only sound being the soft rumble of the engine as Bill pressed the gas just a little harder, speeding up.
The sun was rising across the sky, soft pinks and blues against the wide open fields of whatever town you currently were in, farm houses and barns littered across the landscape. You let out a sigh and turn towards your boyfriend, smiling at the look of focus he had on his face. You turn a bit in the passenger seat, facing him and before you could debate with yourself against it, your hand moved toward his face, fingers gently curling at the back of his neck as your feel his hair.
He hums quietly, glancing at you with a small smile already playing at his lips, “You alright?” He questions gently.
You nod, smiling lazily at him. “Mhm, it’s gorgeous out here…so much different than the city.” You say, unable to tear your eyes off of him now though.
Bill nods. “Yeah, much quieter. Less crowded.” He agrees, switching which hand was on the steering wheel so he could reach over and place his hand on your bare thigh, just above your knee, fingers wrapping around the soft skin. His touch sends a shiver through you.
It was summer so you were dressed in a short flowy dress that you had bought specifically for this trip. “Bill,” Your voice comes out soft as you continue playing with his hair, your fingers light against his scalp.
He knew what you were thinking without you having to say another word. Two years together, there was something like a secret language between the two of you. He always somehow knew what you wanted, needed, had to say without you needing to use words to tell him.
Bill lets out a small laugh, eyebrow raised as he glances at you again. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, smirk appearing on his lips. “Really?” He asks, his hand gently squeezing your thigh. When you nod his smirk only grows, shifting in the driver seat before letting go of your thigh and beckoning you closer. “Come here.”
You lean across the center console, your lips connecting with Bill’s jaw, before trailing down his neck. He keeps driving, inhaling sharply when your hand drops to his lap, fingers expertly undoing the button of his pants. You leave a small mark on his neck before lifting your head, slipping your hand underneath his pants and briefs, finding that he’s already half hard just from your lips on his neck.
With ease you free his cock from his pants, dragging your hand up and down the length of him, sliding your thumb over the tip, smiling to yourself at the way precum drips onto your fingers. “It’s good the roads are empty.” You tease.
Bill grunts as his eyes dart to yours for a second before looking back at the road, trying to stay focused. “We’ll be hitting town traffic soon, so you best get to whatever’s in that pretty head of yours.” He says, as he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it behind your shoulders, gripping it so it didn’t get in the way. “Go on, sweetheart.”
You didn’t waste another second after hearing his words, sticking out your tongue, licking up the side and then over the tip before wrapping your lips around his cock, softly humming at the heaviness. You loved sucking him off. It was one of your favorite things to do.
With one hand still holding your hair, the other still on the steering wheel, Bill curses under his breath, gaze flicking down at you and back to the road as he resisted the urge to thrust upwards into your mouth, to hit the back of your throat.
As you took more into your mouth, you felt his hand grip your hair just a little bit tighter, pushing your head down. “Good, sweetheart, there you go.” Bill’s voice hits your ears. You felt his tip hit the back at your throat, and slip just bit further. Your throat clenched around him, your nose brushing the bit of hair he had at the base. Your hand moved to grip the fabric of his pants. Tears burning your eyes.
He holds you there for just a second before tugging your head back by your hair, a gasp leaving your mouth as he pulls you completely off, strings of saliva and precum dripping from your mouth.
That’s when you notice he had pulled over. Bill smirks at you, hand moving to grip your face. He undoes your seatbelt for you with his other hand, before leaning over and pressing his lips to yours. Hot and messy. His hand drops from your cheek to your thighs, gently pushing your legs apart, his rough fingers then sliding up your inner thigh.
You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers brush over the front of your panties where there’s now a wet patch. He smirks into your mouth as he pushes the soft lace to the side, beginning to rub small circles over you. “You’re already soaking wet, sweetheart.” He murmurs into your mouth.
A whine leaves your mouth as he slowly slips a finger into you, curling it just enough to make you push your hips against his hand, your legs spreading even more as he adds a second finger and works them in and out. “Bill, please.”
“Please what, baby?” He asks, the same faux innocent glint in his eye that makes you crazy. He knows exactly what you want, but you know he likes to hear you say it. “Don’t be shy now, sweetheart, you just had my cock in your mouth. I know you know what you want.” He hums as he pulls his fingers out, much to your instant protesting.
Bill’s fingers wrap around the thin waistband of your panties and he gently taps your hip. “Up.” He says, voice rough as he tugs your underwear down as soon as you lifted your hips off the seat of the car. You kick them off the rest of the way, the wet lace now in the floorboard.
“Come here, sweetheart.” Bill murmurs, unbuckling his own seatbelt before helping you across the middle of the car and onto his lap. Once you were straddling him, he grips the bottom of your dress, tugging it up over your hips.
Your arms go around his shoulders as he uses his other hand to rub his cock over your wet cunt, teasing you just a little before slipping it inside, his hand on your hip tugging you down onto him. Bill tucks his face into your neck, the rough of his mustache rubbing against the sensitive skin as he bites down right on your shoulder. He guides your hips, dragging them back and forth, his breath hot as he continues to mark your skin. “Gonna let everyone know what we’ve been doin’ hm?” He says as he pulls away after creating a large hickey that would be impossible to cover. He smirks at you, eyes dark.
You nod, your brain already short circuiting just from the stretch of him pushing into you. You loved when he marked you. You liked to see the after effects of him being on you… in you. You lean forward, kissing him deeply as he begins to guide your hips up and down, slow at first. His grip on your hips tight enough that you knew there’d be bruises later.
Riding Bill was also one of your most favorite things to do. It was sometimes fun to take a bit of the control, though any sex with Bill was great.
“God, sweetheart.” Bill groans into your mouth when you begin bouncing on your own, setting your own rhythm. “Y’always ride me so well.” He murmurs, his hands loosening their grip on your hips so you could move as freely as you wanted. He drops one hand between your thighs, rough fingers rubbing circles over your clit.
Your legs were already almost shaking from the feeling. You let your head fall against Bill’s shoulder, moaning into the thin fabric of his t-shirt as he pushes his hips upwards. “Bill,” you whine as he wraps one arm around you, other hand still between your legs.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Bill hums. “Already need to come?” He questions, breath hot against your ear as his mustache also rubs over the skin. “You can let go, baby.” He coaxes you.
Bill continues moving you on him, dragging your hips back and forth and lifting you up and down. It made you crazy knowing it was so easy for him to use you in any way he wanted.
He stills you for just a moment when you clench around him so tightly, your orgasm quickly approaching. Your noises more desperate. “There we go, sweetheart. Come for me,” he murmurs into your ear again. And that was all you needed.
Bill smirks to himself as you practically go limp in his arms. He easily still holds you up as he continues fucking up into you, hot breaths hitting your neck as he nears his climax too.
The second you feel him come, the low grunt leaving his mouth as he fills you up. Your breathing was fast as you finally lift your head from Bill’s shoulder.
Bill holds your hips again, gentler this time. He rubs up your sides, staying inside of you for just a few moments while the both of you get your breathing back to normal. One of his hands slowly moves to rub over your stomach. “One day m’gonna put a baby there.” He murmurs. “You’re gonna look so pretty…still so pretty, when you’re full of my babies.”
You smile and lean forward, kissing him again, your fingers brushing over his cheek, in a way that told Bill your answer.
Bill reaches over into the glove-compartment of the car and pulls out a few napkins, beginning to clean up the slight mess the two of you made. He eases you off his lap, leaning over and wiping your thighs and making sure you were okay before cleaning up himself.
You find your discarded panties on the floor and pull them back on, wiggling around in the passenger seat as you buckle back up. Bill tucks himself back into his pants before clearing his throat and buckling up. “Ready?” He asks as he puts the car out of park.
Once you nod, he slides his hand over to hold your thigh, before you slowly grab his hand to lace your fingers together. “I’m ready,” you agree with a smile.
Hey girlll, can you maybe make an Eric smut….. maybe like dirty sex and with tons of dirty talk, IM OVULATING SO DONT MINDE ME OKAY😭
Dirty mouth (Eric Draven X Fem reader)
One shot - NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Summary: After you've been a little distant lately, Eric decides to bring you back to him.
A/N - Sorry it's taken me so long to get to this request, I deviated a little because I got caught up in the plot, but I hope this is what you asked for!! Thank you for requesting 💓
Content warnings: oral (male receiving), female masturbation, some angst?, dirty talk (some degrading and praise)
Word count: 2778
“God you’ve got such a filthy mouth” Eric exhaled “do me a favour and put it to good use” the whisper had a thrill going up your spine.
The sound of Eric tugging down the zipper on his jeans made you drop down to your knees before Eric even had to tell you.
*some time earlier*
The mood in the Draven household for the past few weeks had been a stressful one and it was beginning to show up in the simplest of ways. The house had become a little messy, unfolded clothes, fast food packaging bulging out of the bin and dishes taking up space in the sink and space in your mind too.
Working from home was supposed to be easy, but the constant miscommunications and deadlines had actually left you with more stress than you’d ever encountered. Eric had begged you relentlessly to not get a job. He wanted to take care of you and he had the means to do so.
But relying on a man was a stupid idea, he could dump you and leave you high and dry. Then what? You’d be left with nothing. So for your own sake, you got a job. You didn’t chip in on Bills, Eric wouldn’t let you do such a thing.
You were beginning to regret your choice and Eric was getting fed up of seeing you this stressed. When he came home one evening it all came to a head.
“Hey baby where are you?” The exhaustion in his voice couldn’t be hidden even if he tried. When he got no answer he went to your office. And much to his annoyance there you were staring at your computer. You looked up at the sound of the door opening then looked back down straight away.
“I didn’t hear you come in, sorry” your mind was clouded with deadlines, you did not need Eric in your office right now.
“Come and eat, I got some take out” you could see the white bag but you had no interest in eating.
“I’ll eat later, thanks though” you heard Eric sigh as he turned away.
He sat in the living room alone, eating the food he had picked up for the both of you. When the realisation dawned on him, he didn’t have to take this. He walked back into your office again with determination.
“You’re coming to eat, you’ve probably been in here all day” you looked up and Eric looked exhausted, sounded it too now you bothered to pay attention. But you weren’t just going to do what he told you to.
“No, Eric I have to get this work done” you looked back down to your laptop disappointed in how much you still had left to do. Your hands came up to your temples. The work was due in less than 12 hours, every moment mattered if you wanted to keep your job. your independence.
“You’re not doing this to me Y/N, go and eat, it’ll still be waiting after you're done.” The laptop lid slammed shut and Eric’s hand was placed on top of it. He was sick of trying the nice way, you needed something firmer.
“Eric I don’t have time for this, please just get the fuck out!” The silence that followed was deafening. Eric’s eyes darkened and you knew you’d fucked up.
“What did you just say to me?” he leaned over the desk “think twice before you say it again” his low and menacing voice should have been a warning. You didn't take it as one. You’d grown sick of his pushing, now it was time to push back.
“I said, Get the fuck out.” you spoke through gritted teeth. Standing to mirror his pose. Eric walked round and grabbed your wrist. Dragging you out of the office completely. You tried to push the soles of your feet into the floor to stop him, but your stubbornness was no match for his effortless strength.
“Eric- Eric let go of me, I’m not just a doll you can drag around, get the fuck off me!” you shouted at him, not thinking of the repercussions. He stayed silent. Simply walking you to the bedroom, his large hand wrapped around your wrist.
When you got to the bedroom he flicked on the light, and practically threw you at the bed, where you sat, rage running through your veins. You saw Eric take a deep breath before he opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m asking as kindly as I can here Y/N, quit the damn job” Irritation still seeped into his words even though he’d tried to calm it.
“No Eric. I’m not quitting and you can’t make me” even while speaking to him there was a timer in your head thinking about that deadline and how much each section of work would take to write. Your eyes caught Eric’s watch and you felt the panic in your chest.
Eric watched as your breathing changed from anger to something else. “You don’t need the job, look I’m not trying to control you, own you or bribe you.” he leaned down in front of you on his knees and reached for your hand. “I just can’t stand to see you this stressed all the time, get a different job part time at a cafe or at the library. Just don’t keep this job” his anger had dissipated into something softer. He would deal with the way you spoke to him later.
“I’m smarter than working at a cafe or a library though, they don’t have a challenge behind them either, I don’t want to just be Eric Draven's girlfriend.” Your eyes flickered to Eric’s wrist again, 20 minutes had been wasted so far on this nonsense.
Your words hit Eric, he knew you were smart, it was one of the many reasons he’d fallen in love with you. He saw you as a future wife, future mother, your mothers daughter and a determined individual. But you were driving yourself crazy and he couldn’t see it continue.
“You’ll never just be my girlfriend, but if you keep going the way you are, you won't be anything to anyone, you’ll be someone who misses events, someone who's ruled by deadlines and work. Just get a less demanding job, please”
Your eyes snapped to Eric’s watch again, this time he noticed. Another 5 minutes had passed. Your breathing changed again.
“Look at you, you can’t even take your mind off the time and that stupid deadline” his hand left yours and moved to his wrist as he took off his watch, putting it under the bed.
“I’m done asking Y/N, it's my job to look after you and to love you, tomorrow you are quitting that job” his hand landed at the back of your neck forcing you to look at him. “You can get another job, an easier one, you don’t need to prove how smart you are by burning yourself out.”
That’s when the dam broke, your shoulders dropped, an exhale left you as you nodded whispering a broken “okay” as you reached for Eric. You stayed with your head on his shoulder, letting out a few tears you’d been holding onto since the deadlines started rolling in. After a few minutes you leaned back up and scanned Eric's face, the softness in his eyes, the kindness he always showed you. The apology poured out of you easily.
“Im sorry for speaking to you the way I did before, you were only trying to take care of me” Eric smiled a little as your hand landed on his cheek softly.
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that apology, since I have a better idea” he placed a tender kiss to the palm of your hand before leaning in to kiss you, your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed into his touch. It had been a while since you had been in the mood to be intimate with Eric. That didn’t seem to be an issue anymore, the simple kiss gave you butterflies.
Eric released you from the kiss and from his gentle grasp, whispering against your lips. “God you’ve got such a filthy mouth” Eric exhaled “do me a favour and put it to good use” the whisper had a thrill going up your spine. Eric stood.
The sound of Eric tugging down the zipper on his jeans made you drop down to your knees before Eric even had to tell you. The height difference between the two of you had always been a trigger for arousal on both ends. But seeing him so clearly above you after weeks of stress made your mouth water.
Eric had been hard since you shouted at him in the office. It was rare you stood up to him but the moment you raised your voice he was hard. His exhaustion disappeared and he could only think of putting his cock down your throat to teach you a lesson. Hopefully one you’d both enjoy learning.
You sat patiently, hands on the tops of your thighs and eyes pleading with your mouth slightly parted as Eric took off his shirt, revealing his toned physique. He had never seen a prettier sight, until your eyes widened as he pulled his cock out of his boxers, tapping it gently against your lips. His pre-cum covered your lips, you opened your mouth without hesitation.
His cock slipped easily into your mouth, Eric gasped at the sensation and you kept your eyes on him and let out a hum as the tip reached the back of your relaxed throat, you started to move, slow and steady, occasionally swirling your tongue around Eric’s sensitive tip drawing out a hiss from him.
Your hand came up to rest on his tense thigh, gripping as you began to find a rhythm that had Eric breathing heavily above you.
“Fuck that’s it, thought you could talk to me like that?” he breathed “maybe next time you’ll think twice” it spurred you on, you sped up your movements. You could feel the dull ache of your jaw but it wasn’t important when Eric’s tattoos were tensing, his breath faltering and his hand tightening in your hair.
Eric came with a whimper, pushing his cock hard enough down your throat to almost make you gag, with your mouth so full some of his cum spilled from the side of your mouth but still you swallowed eagerly, willing to please. He reached down to your mouth after he pulled out, collecting the cum on his thumb and again you sucked happily.
“You look wrecked and I haven't even touched you yet” he tucked himself away. Then got back down to eye level with you.
This was the fun part for Eric, seeing how blissed out you were just from having his dick in your mouth, he knew if he tired to touch your pussy right now you’d be socked, ready and waiting for whatever he wanted to do with you, but this was supposed to be punishment wasn't it?
Without warning he lifted you up from the floor, his effortless strength on display again as he placed you on the middle of the bed, all the possibilities of what he could do rushed through your mind, your favourite being the idea of Eric fucking you into the mattress. Little did you know that wasn’t going to happen.
He began to take off your clothes, peeling off your comfortable clothing until you were left with only your bra. The relief of being free from stress meant your muscles were relaxed as you waited for Eric's next move.
He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were laid out in front of him, affected by the simplest touch, his hand ran over your thighs, he placed gentle kisses on your stomach stopping at your sternum. He inhaled the smell of your soft skin.
“Touch yourself for me” the words caught you off guard.
“What?” you asked in complete disbelief.
“You wanna be good for me don’t you?” you nodded eagerly “so touch yourself for me” his nose nudged yours as he captured you in a heated kiss, you gasped into it. While your hand began traveling down to circle your clit.
You let out a whine that Eric found incredibly sexy, your middle and index fingers collected some of your slick, you kept your movements slow, careful not to disappoint Eric in any way.
“You’re not gonna cum until I say you can, you understand me?” you nodded again, speeding up slightly as your need grew. Which was made worse when Eric began kissing down your body. First your neck, that one spot under your ear that made you gasp, then your collar bone, down to the swell of your breast where your nipples were hard and waiting for attention that Eric finally gave. His hands spread under your rib cage as his tongue circled your nipple. You arched into the touch letting out breathy moans. Your hand speeding up at its own accord.
“God I can’t get enough of you baby, put your index finger inside yourself” the authority he had over you needed to be studied but you listened anyway, your finger was nowhere near as good as Eric’s but it was this or nothing so you made do. But he noticed when your breath steadied and your moans seemed to halt.
“What is it baby? Are your fingers not as good as mine?” he kissed your stomach while looking up at you. You nodded again.
“I’m gonna need words baby, you used them earlier, you can use them now” he leaned up sitting on his knees between your spread legs watching you lazily pump your index finger in and out of yourself.
“Yours are better Eric, please” you whined again.
“Please what baby?” he smirked knowing exactly what he was doing.
“Please use your fingers on me” you choked out.
Eric wanted to resist, he really did, but your juices were on your fingers and you asked so nicely. How was he meant to refuse?
“Since you asked so nicely, fine, but you need to keep your fingers on your clit and never speak to me like that again, got it?”
You nodded “I swear” at this point you would have agreed to anything to have his hands on you properly. You removed your finger and dragged it back up to your clit, continuing your previous movements.
Much to your relief Eric’s middle finger entered you, you clenched around it thankful for the welcome intrusion. His hand was so much better than yours, especially when he curled his finger, gently prodding your most sensitive areas. A second finger promptly followed driving you closer to the edge.
“Fuck Eric I-”
“I know baby I can feel it, you drive me fucking insane, Fuck you can cum when you’re ready baby” he didn’t mean to give in to you so easily but you sounded so pretty beneath him you were making him hard again.
Eric watched you cum undone, you hand gripping the sheets for dear life, your thighs trying to close out of sensitivity but you only ended up with your legs around his hips. Your jaw dropped and ragged breaths left you. His favourite thing though was the way you clenched around his fingers like you never wanted to let him go.
Your breath began to steady and you stopped clenching enough that he could slide his fingers out of you, he very happily brought his fingers to his mouth and swallowed.
You laid on the bed, muscled exhausted, emotionally exhausted, mentally drained but free in your own way, the bed dipped beside you as Eric laid down.
“Are you doing ok?” his tone now back to normal, gentle, patient and kind.
“Yeah I’m ok, I just feel a little shit about talking to you like that” you took a deep breath out, attempting to steady yourself.
“Hey, look at me. You don't need to worry about it, we're all good. You're safe with me and a little outburst means nothing” his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb gently grounding you before you could dare to spiral.
“Eric, could you maybe help me finish off the work before I quit?” asking for help was the opposite of what you got a job for but maybe it was exactly what you needed.
“Of course I can baby, but at least 5 minutes of cuddles are mandatory after a sexual act so it can wait” you both let out a giggle, as he pulled you to his chest, safe and sound.
General tag list @thedevotchka @coryoslut @macynacym @kikibit @wiseyouthinfluencer @lunaskye999 @brightnessluvworld
A/N - I've never written anything like this before so go easy on me and I'm not sure I like this but I tried, this is very inspired by @thedevotchka so go and read her work!!
Content warnings: CEO Eric, a little bit of jealousy, mentions of masturbation (Male and Female), sub Eric, dominant reader, a little bit of angst, use of hand cuffs, oral (male receiving), unprotected P in V, cream pie, slightly immature reader.
Word count: 2931
Eric was convinced he had made a mistake. He’d been unprofessional, irresponsible and blinded by lust. He got back to his home and cleaned up his cum covered pants. God he was beyond embarrassed about it. But the look on your face when you noticed the patch had him getting hard again in his shower. He didn’t hesitate to wrap a fist around his cock and imagine it was your mouth around him.
Post nut clarity hit him after each time he came to the image of you, your breathy moans were hotter than he ever could have imagined. He wasn’t going to fire you, he told you he wouldn’t. But he would have to keep his distance from you on Monday. He couldn’t lose control again. Workplace romances were not his thing, they were messy, not only was this a workplace issue but he was the damn CEO. His reputation would be in tatters if anyone found out.
But how was he supposed to ignore you? He’d spent three entire years trying but your determination drawed him like a moth to a flame. A part of him couldn’t wait until Monday, Now he knew you might feel the same but another part of him dreaded it. Now he’d had a taste he wanted more. He hoped you’d feel the same but also hoped you’d come to your senses and decide it was a mistake so he didn’t have to decide it for you.
He spent the rest of the weekend sitting in his bland house that looked so similar to his office. His house didn’t look lived in even though he spent the majority of his time there after work. He had all the riches people wish for but none of that could fix the people he’d lost to get there. You weren't aware of it but you were truly the highlight of his day, his office felt brighter when you were in it and his thoughts felt safer with you haunting them.
You’d been considering getting a new job. Mr Draven was an ass and full of himself but incredibly sexy. Mr Russell (another CEO) would have to find another personal assistant cause you weren't going to be it. You folded up your written out resignation and hid it somewhere in your pile of paperwork, out of sight, out of mind. Then deleted your drafted email to the other company.
The weekend felt like it dragged out for a lifetime, you’d try to get rid of the image of Eric on his knees in front of you but it was no use. When you laid in bed at night it was the first thing on your mind. Inevitably your fingers circled your clit until you came with a choked moan with Eric's name spilled from your lips.
Though come Sunday night you became riddled with doubt and fear about what Monday may hold. You and him had always been professional and you weren’t sure if you could do casual. But this was Eric or Mr Draven as you had always known him. Mr Draven was unreasonable, an ass really. But Eric? Not so much, he had a softness in his eyes you’d never seen in any other man and god he was hot. Who could blame you for wanting to sleep with your boss?
It didn't feel like a mistake at all to you, it kind of felt right. You’d dated plenty of people but they were all missing something, you still weren't sure what. But whatever it was, Eric seemed to possess it. You felt addicted and you’d barely had a taste.
Monday came like a shock to your system, you dressed in your tightest shirt and short skirt, something revealing but still modest. You were secretly hoping for the typical office romance, he’d call you in for something that only a personal assistant could do, then he’d flirt with you and maybe bend you over the desk. You were getting wet at the thought of it, you shook your head as you tried to focus on the road while driving to the office.
Much to your surprise he was already in his office when you arrived. There in his suit again, it looked dangerously similar to the one on Friday, this time he wasn't wearing his jacket or a tie which made for more eye candy for you.
Eric noticed when you arrived. Your effortless movements made him pause as you sat down, the backs of your thighs visible and it made him crazy for no good reason. The reflection of your breasts on the computer screen almost sent him into a coma. He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself back to work. Though he didn’t miss your glances.
A few agonising hours later you were called into Eric’s office. “Hey y/n can you come into my office please” he sounded deadpan but you couldn't help the excitement running through your veins.
“What do you need Mr Draven?” you asked as politely as you could, as you tried to hide the teasing edge that wanted to escape from your lips.
“I just need you to photocopy some of these documents and file them please” he didn’t look up at you. Again. You seemed to be back to square one, you felt the excitement deflate like a ballon. He slid the papers across to you and you grabbed them without a word, your footsteps seemed to echo through the room as you left, closing the door behind you.
You stood at the printer spiraling a little. What did you do wrong? Did he regret his choice? Was it a one time thing? Could you handle a one night thing? No. no you could not, clearly. You stood there absentmindedly watching the printer.
Shit. Eric felt like Shit with a capital S. He saw the way your eyes lit up when he called you to his office and he hated to be the one that killed that same light. But what choice did he have? He couldn't be delusional and he couldn't lead you on. But he may have already done that. He made sure to only send emails to you for the rest of the day.
Eric and you left the office at a reasonable time. Awkward silence filled the office. You still managed to leave with your head held high. You couldn't do this. But you could make Eric’s day at the office a little slice of hell.
When you arrived home you grabbed your resignation and made sure it was in your bag to hand in tomorrow, you wrote out that email to Mr Russell's company and sent it. You were practically guaranteed the job with a name like Eric’s on your CV and even if you didn’t get it you could afford to wait until you got another position. Then you grabbed one specific item you could use on Eric to hopefully make him regret fucking around with you.
Tuesday went like every other day, you did all the usual bullshit. Professionally. Even Eric was shocked about how easy everything seemed to be going. You weren't your usual self but you weren’t causing issues and for that he was glad. Well except for the amount of work he had to do which meant he was going to have to be in the office alone. With you.
After working 2 hours of overtime again, Eric was ready to leave. You watched him from your desk while he packed up his things and his office went back to looking like nobody occupied the room. This was your time to strike.
You sauntered into his office, resignation in hand and a surprise in your skirt pocket. Without permission. Never in your three years at the company had you done that. Eric’s face was a picture. His eyebrows furrowed and he paused his movements. “Y/N, what can I do for you?” he sat back down and watched as you slid the paper across the table in the same way he did to you the day before.
“This is my resignation. Effective immediately as per my contract” you spoke confidently, determined to go through with your plan.
“What do you mean you're resigning? Just because of Friday?” The genuine confusion on his face made you happy to see it really did.
“No it’s because I don’t want a shitty boss that can’t even look at me.” He sighed. Rubbing his temples, his eyes fluttered closed.
“Well with me leaving, you don’t need to worry anymore” you crossed your arms over your chest, seeing Eric in a somewhat vulnerable position was making you a little aroused.
“Look you don’t have to do this, I said I wasn’t going to fire you”
“Yes I do have to worry, where are you going to work and where am I going to find an assistant as good as you in less than 14 hours.” he dropped his hands into his hands, you almost felt sorry for him but then again maybe not.
“Why do you have to worry about where I work, Eric? You don’t. But if it worries you that much I guess I can tell you that I applied for a personal assistant job for Mr Russell.” you smiled then, really smiled and Eric hated it. His stomach dropped. You working for another man? This might have been his worst nightmare.
“You can’t work for Mr Russell Y/N. He's unprofessional, he’s full of shit. He's an asshole!” he looked you in the eye, jealousy was peaked through his gaze. You couldn’t help but love it.
“So what, you're an asshole too.” you laughed as you said it and Eric couldn’t say you were wrong. He felt like shit.
“What can I do to make you stay?” he mumbled. That same submissive look from Friday was back now. Eric didn’t have another choice, it was either give you whatever you wanted or watch you walk away. That simply wasn’t an option.
You stayed silent, your hand drifting to your pocket to pull out the handcuffs you brought with you. They hung off your index finger as the tension hung in the air. “You want me to use them on you?” Eric asked.
“Nope” you began to walk around to Eric’s chair “I want to use them on you”
Eric was nervous as hell, he accidently showed you he was slightly submissive and now you wanted to use handcuffs on him? But even he couldn’t deny that it was a hot idea. Especially when the metal touched him, you gently pressed it to his skin and watched as he shifted around.
“So, can I?” you leaned down to press a kiss on his red star tattoo right next to his ear and his reaction was simple but priceless. He took a deep breath in, trying to hide a gasp. Caving in immediately. This was going to be easier than you’d thought.
“Yeah, you can do it.” he breathed. He felt his cock beginning to leak just from the simple gesture.
The air around you both seemed thick, full of tension. This was not healthy, like at all. But maybe being healthy is overrated. Talking is boring while actions are fun. Just like the action of closing the handcuffs over Eric's wrists, restraining him, his bound wrists resting on his thighs. While he watched intensely. His eyes were blown out waiting for your next action.
You dropped to your knees and gave Eric a warning look “keep your hands to yourself” you watched as Eric obeyed and clasped his clammy hands together lifting them awkwardly up to his chest.
“God you're such a good boy when you're not being my boss. Eric let out a groan clearly affected by your words.
You watched as his head lolled back when you unzipped his trousers, palming his already hard cock just a little. He began biting his bottom lip as an attempt to muffle the sounds begging to leave his throat just from the little amount of friction you provided.
You didn't wait. You pulled out his dick and wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue applying pressure tasting his pre-cum. You’d never felt happier, you absentmindedly pushed your thighs together. Your hands rested atop Eric’s muscular thighs. He was desperately fighting off the urge to fuck your face. He wanted to be good for you.
You relaxed your throat and managed to take him deeper, spit gathered at the sides of your mouth, Eric gasped above you, fascinated by your dedication. He felt embarrassingly close already but he held himself back. You hadn’t given him permission to cum. You knew he was close, his whines were getting higher and his dick started twitching in your mouth.
“Y/N- wait” he managed to choke out, his jaw still dropped when you looked up at him.
“What’s wrong baby boy?” your hand kept stroking him
“I- felt close, you didn’t say I could cum” his head fell back again, his chest was heaving. But his hands were still clasped together, you smiled. You hadn't even said that was a rule, he was so focused on being good for you that he imposed the rule upon himself.
“God you’re so fucking beautiful like this, like putty in my hands huh?” you stood up lifting up your skirt and slipping off your panties. Maybe this one time, Eric deserved a reward.
You straddled his hips, somehow you fit perfectly. Eric looked at you like he was in physical pain and you couldn’t help but love it. “Don’t worry, you’ve been surprisingly good, just be good for a little longer and you can cum in me, okay?” he nodded weakly somehow spent from getting his dick sucked.
You lifted his arms from his chest opening up a few of the buttons on his shirt, then you pulled his arms over your head, effectively trapping yourself in, his handcuffed hands landing on the small of your back. The intimacy of the moment couldn’t be missed.
You kissed his neck as you lifted yourself off his thighs, a little bit of your wetness on his trousers. You hovered over the tip of his cock, then slowly ran it through your folds, earning a gasp and a moan from both of you.
You sank down in one motion “Shit, fuck you’re so big Eric” his eyes were clampped shut, trying not to cum, your walls felt so tight around him.
You began to bounce in no time, finding a steady rhythm you looped your arms around Eric’s neck and his hands on the small of your back slid down to your ass helping you keep momentum. The only sounds either of you could hear was each other. Heavy breaths, gasping moans, curses and the sound of your wetness sliding up and down his cock.
Eric’s moans only seemed to spur you on, even when your thighs began to burn, your head tilted back as you continued chasing your own thread of pleasure “Eric fuck, i’ve thought about this for so long”
“Me too, god you feel better than i ever could have imagined” he kissed your neck gently. Still trying to be good for you.
Your hand came down to circle around your clit, your middle and ring finger rubbing roughly. You finally began to see the end of the thread “Eric, baby you can cum, cum inside me” you leaned forward and kissed him roughly and he reciprocated his moans leaving vibrations on your lips.
“Please” he whispered, sounding kind of broken.
“Baby I already said you can cum” you told him kissing him again.
He pulled away slightly, your noses still brushing, while you continued getting closer to your orgasm. “No I meant please don’t leave, don’t go and work for Russell, please Y/N”
You began clenching around him, your body almost bracing for impact. “I’ll stay”
That was all it took for Eric to cum inside you, his breath became staggered and his hips moved causing him to bump something inside of you. Your jaw dropped as you came, his name leaving your lips while you hid in the crook of his neck.
As the waves subsided for both of you Eric simply held you there, completely worn out. His handcuffed hands were still holding you.
“So you’re really not going anywhere?” you leaned back looking him in the eye
“I said I'd stay. Forget about my resignation, if Russell accepts my application i’ll decline it.” you kissed him again, deeper this time, tangled with emotion. You pulled back smiling, he was too.
“Here let me un-cuff you” he lifted his arms from around you, he presented his wrists to you and you happily grabbed the key out of your pocket and released him. It didn’t even look like he had been wearing them since he hadn’t tried to fight against them, there was no way Eric Draven was real.
You winced as you lifted off of his flaccid cock, cum dripped down your thighs and Eric watched in awe as he tucked himself away. You grabbed your resignation letter, opened it and let some of the cum drip onto the paper ruining the words beneath. You silently folded it back up and put it in Eric’s top draw. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m guessing you don’t do casual then?” he questioned as if the answer wasn't abundantly clear.
“I think I can do casual, but not when it comes to you.”
General tag list (Comment to be added!) @thedevotchka @coryoslut @macynacym @kikibit @wiseyouthinfluencer @lunaskye999 @brightnessluvworld @skysgard @elyseesarchive @devilslittlehelper
The Ties That Bind Us (Eric Draven x Reader) (Part 2 of 2)
Summary: There’s a protocol to visiting him. Notify Eric that you’re going to enter, wait for him to slip into his restraints, and the light will go green. You’ve followed this protocol every day, multiple times a day, since Eric Draven was caught, tried, and committed to the sanitorium for the criminally insane. Taking care of a serial killer isn’t for the faint of heart, and every day spent looking into his green eyes and listening to the rough silk of his voice has you wondering whether your heart can survive him.
Word Count: 6,304
Warnings: NSFW, vaginal fingering, canon-typical violence, oral sex (f&mreceiving), somnophilia, PiV unprotected sex
MDNI, fic under the cut
“It would be… detrimental to his progress.” You say carefully, trying to keep your voice level and your face expressionless.
“In your opinion.”
You suck in a breath, pushing your fingers against the edge of your desk to stop the shaking in your hands. They were pulling Eric off your patient list. You’d rescinded the request, but it didn’t matter. The decision had been made. “He’s given me six new names. Dates, everything. He’s opening up.”
“Alright.” Your boss leans in, and the man beside her shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Cards on the table, doctor. We don’t really care whether Mr Draven makes progress here or not. The state pay for his room, and we’re to keep him locked up until he can be released or not, as the case may be.”
You frown, feeling your face heat. “That isn’t what I signed up for, I want to help.”
She raises an eyebrow, her glasses slipping down her nose. “Oh, I know very well how much you’ve been helping Mr Draven.”
Your stomach flips over and bottoms out, and your pulse is a thunder in your throat. “I don’t know what you-“
“Cut the bullshit.” She spits in a clipped tone. The man beside her glances over before his eyes return to the papers on his lap. “There are cameras everywhere. An orderly on your floor grew suspicious and we checked the logs. It’s over.” She sits back, taking a deep breath. “You’re a good doctor, and lord knows we’re short on those around here. I don’t want to fire you, not over misconduct with one patient. But I will if you don’t sit down, shut up and let me handle this before it becomes a PR nightmare.”
You press your lips together, nodding your head curtly. You’re not going to argue, not when they have evidence. Not when you do deserve to be fired. And not when getting fired would mean never seeing Eric again. “I understand. I… regret my actions. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” She sighs. “You’re getting off lightly here. Really lightly. Don’t make me regret it.”
You watch as they stand, and the man’s fingers are wrapped around the doorhandle when you blurt- “who is taking his case? Just so I can, you know, pass on my notes.”
She frowns, and the man clears his throat. “Dr Ramirez. He’s good with… harder cases.”
You swallow. Dr Ramirez is good with harder cases because he’s a fucking sadist. Your boy won’t last five minutes with him. No, no, no.
You’re still arguing with yourself as you swipe into his cell. All pretence of waiting for him to fasten his cuffs is gone, and he rises to a stand the moment you step inside. “This is a surp-“
“Stop.” You say, holding up your hand. Because if he comes close, if he touches you, you’ll melt into him or you’ll take his clothes off and there isn’t time for that right now. “They’re pulling you from my patient list.”
Eric freezes, his face solidifying to stone. “I thought you took it back.”
“I did. They… they know. About me and you. About all the things I’ve… they know.”
Eric swallows. “You getting fired?” He feels his own guts roil at the thought, the thought of not seeing you anymore and the worse thought of having to start all this over again with another doctor when he’s so close to getting what he wants.
“No.” You huff a laugh. “Short on doctors, can’t afford to lose me as long as I promise never to do it again.”
“You don’t have any patients as hot as me.” Eric smirks, and you roll your eyes.
“I’m not staying. I can’t.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks as he crosses to you, pinning you back against the door. This is the only corner of the room the camera doesn’t cover, and Eric hooks his hands around your thighs and lifts you until your core is pressed to his crotch. You wrap your legs around his hips and thread your fingers into his hair. “You have to stay. You said you wouldn’t leave me.” His voice is a low murmur as he nuzzles his nose against the side of your throat, and you swallow hard.
“I’m not… that isn’t what I meant. I won’t be able to stay, with the suspicion. Not after you’re gone, considering our… relationship.”
Eric freezes, pulling away to search your face. “When I’m gone?”
“You said if I switched you to another doctor you’d never say another word, right?”
“Right.” Eric presses his cock against you, grinding soft, slow circles of his hips into your core.
“And…” you gasp at the feeling, your eyes briefly fluttering closed. “And when I left for a week you stopped eating and drinking. If I go away for good, you’ll die, won’t you?”
“I’ll kill myself,” Eric whispers into your throat, licking up the length of your neck and nipping your earlobe into his mouth. His cock is stirring to life against you, thickening right up against your most sensitive part as he ruts against you.
“And all those families… all those names will go with you. All over… what? The hospital not wanting a PR nightmare?”
“It’d be a waste,” he mumbles, a rumble of sound against your skin.
You can feel the dampness in your underwear now, and you tighten your fingers in his hair as you pull his face away from your neck. “If I break you out of here, do you swear you won’t hurt anybody else? Ever.”
Eric hums. “If that’s really what you want, then I’ll swear it. If it’s really what you want.”
You chew your bottom lip into your mouth. It would be so much easier to focus if he wasn’t grinding his cock against you like that. “Why wouldn’t it be what I want?”
He tilts his head to the side, releasing one of your legs and wiggling his fingers into the elastic waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his long digits prodding against the front of your underwear, and then he slips the fabric to the side and drags through your folds. “I killed the worst of the worst. Took out the trashed, cleaned up the streets.” His voice is liquid silk as he dips his fingers lower, circling your entrance to gather the arousal leaking out of you before dragging up to your clit and rubbing over the swelling bundle of nerves. “Child molesters. Wife beaters. Lowest of the low.”
You whimper as the rough callouses on his fingers drag against you, your nails digging hard into his hair as you cling to him. “That doesn’t make it…”
“Right?” He whispers, dropping again to your entrance and pushing two fingers into your heat. “I think it does. I think you know it does, too. You’re drawn to me because you understand me, doc.”
You feel a sob bubble up between your lips as his fingers push deep into you, curling back against the spongy sensitive flesh of your walls. “You can’t just kill people.”
“I can.” He coos, tugging almost out of you before pushing back in. He sets a slow, deep pace, pinning you to the wall with his body as he fucks you with his fingers. “I did it for a really long time. Helped a lot of people, you can’t deny that.”
You want to deny it. You really want to tell him no. Insist that he be different if he wants to be free. But he’s right. He’s fucking right that you don’t mourn a single one of his victims. That the police hadn’t been there for you when your husband had kicked you down the stairs over a text message from an old school friend, or when he’d slammed your hand in the car door for standing too close to one of his work buddies at the office Christmas party. That a vigilante cleaning up the trash was sometimes exactly the kind of justice people needed. That Eric had been terrifyingly good at it. “It’s dangerous.”
“Aww, doc.” He teases, stretching his hand so he can press his thumb against your clit as his fingers speed up. “You worrying about me already?”
“You got…” you break off around a moan as Eric hits your g-spot over and over again, your clit throbbing on the brink of release against the pressure of his thumb. “You got caught before. I’d go down with you… If you got caught again.”
“Look at me.” His tone is stern now, and you force your eyes to focus on his even as his fingers unravel you. “I would never. If I get caught, I’m on my own. I would never let you go down for my crimes. Never.”
You bite your lip as you cum, clamping down on his fingers and jerking against his thumb as your body fights for friction and your release rolls through you. Eric dips his head and presses his lips to your own, absorbing the cries and whines and moans you make as you ride his hand.
He pulls out of you carefully, extracting his hand from your skirt and licking your release off his fingers. “I hope that was okay.”
You hum, dropping your head back against the wall. “When we get out of here… I’m going to ruin you.”
Eric smirks, even as his cock leaks in his scrubs. “You won’t be my doctor out there you know. Maybe I’ll be the one tying you to the bed.”
You blush, and the colour is so pretty against your skin that Eric has to cup your cheeks and kiss you again and again until you’re both dizzy.
It had been too easy. Much, much too easy to get to this point. Eric lies on his bed looking up at the water-stained ceiling in his cell for the last time. The first night he’d been thrown in here he’d resigned himself to thinking of it as a tomb. Killing Harrison Slaney had felt necessary, and Eric didn’t regret it. When a perfect moment falls into your lap like that, you don’t just ignore it, do you? He was a self-proclaimed child molester and a murderer to boot, and it had been only logical to ram the thin edge of his metal lunch tray into the guy’s neck until he was, for all intents and purposes, decapitated.
Eric had known it would cost him; and cost him it had. His own private room in his own private wing. He hadn’t seen another patient in years. And that was okay, it was a fitting end to his mission. He hadn’t thought about anything as dumb as escape until he’d met you. Until the jolt of recognition that had bolted him to his seat as he stared into your nervous eyes and seen the way you rounded in on yourself. He knew those mannerisms, and he knew what they meant. And from there it had been too easy. Much, much too easy to lure you in, to give you just enough to make you think you were fixing him. To offer you his body and let you take what you wanted. It didn’t matter to him, anyway. And it’s not like you weren’t pretty. It’s not like he didn’t want you. It’s just that Eric wanted freedom so, so much more.
He doesn’t know exactly when the sun sets, because he doesn’t have a window. But he does know that dinner comes around that time, and the tray is pushed through his door just a couple of hours later. He takes it, sliding it onto the desk and picking at the greyish lumps of stew as he waits.
Your heart is a jackhammer threatening to burst right out of your ribcage as you tuck a clean uniform into your jacket. Your eyes dart side to side, but the corridor is deserted. It’s too early for the day staff to be leaving, and too early for the night staff to arrive. The perfect time to slip into the staff room and take these clothes. No one would question a doctor and an orderly walking the halls together. Your legs shake so badly it’s a wonder you’re even upright as you make your way towards his cell. Your keycard will be restricted soon, and you can only pray it hasn’t already been done as you press it to the door and wait for the green light. To your relief the locking mechanism clicks open, and you slip inside.
Eric rises from his bed, licking over his lips as he scans you up and down, and you feel your face heat under his scrutiny. “You okay?”
“Fine.” You whisper, not trusting your voice as you tug the clothes out from your jacket and toss them to him.
Eric raises an eyebrow, opening up the pants. “What size do you think I wear, doc?”
You roll your eyes. “There wasn’t much choice. Just hurry up, Draven.”
He smirks as he tugs his scrubs down, and you swallow hard at the sight of his bare ass before he pulls his new pants up and cinches the drawstrings as tight as they’ll go. The shirt hangs off his broad frame, and you steal glances at his inked flesh as fastens the buttons with nimble fingers. He isn’t shaking, but he notices how badly you are.
“Hey,” he says softly, stepping close to cup your cheek. “It’s gunna be alright. I’ll get us out of here.” You nod, tensing as Eric’s fingers brush against your keycard. “Are you sure you want to do this? I could take the card, tie you to the chair. You wouldn’t be blamed.”
You shake your head, wrapping your fingers around the card and unclipping it from your coat. “People know me. We’ll slip out easier if I’m with you.” And you’re right, and Eric feels a fluttering in his stomach that might be affection as much as it’s guilt.
Eric’s hand engulfs your own completely and your stomach flips over as he pushes open the door and steps out first. He looks back, and you wonder for one terrifying second if he’s going to push you back inside and make a run for it, but he doesn’t. He smiles, a soft, sweet, genuine smile, and then he tugs you through into the corridor.
Even though you’re leading, Eric remains just a little in front of you as you make your way through the winding, nondescript halls. Eric’s private cell is buried deep in the heart of the building, and your heart feels like it might spontaneously explode as you round every corner. But there’s nobody. Fate or God or whatever must be on your side, because you don’t encounter a single other person until you’re practically at the loading door. You glance at Eric, who nods sharply, and you swipe your keycard against the last door. Nothing happens. No green light.
“What’s wrong?” He hisses.
“I… I don’t know. I guess I don’t have access here.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’ve never tried to get out this way, why would I?”
“Why would you plan our route to include a door you didn’t know whether you could open?” Eric’s voice breaks through the whisper, frustration leaking into his tone, and you flinch.
“I’m sorry. I’m-“
“No, no, no, hey.” Eric soothes, tugging his hand from yours to lay his palms on your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s not your fault, you’ve done so good, doc.”
You hum, blinking against tears. You’re about to open your mouth, when you hear a lilting whistle. You know the tune, because you’ve been forced to listen to it on and off for months, every time you visited Eric. “I can fix this.” You say, eyes wide. “Orderlies have access. Hide.”
Eric doesn’t have a chance to protest before you’re darting away, and the whistling stops. “Oh, hey doc.” The orderly from Eric’s floor frowns at you. “You lost?”
“No. I mean, a little.” You force a laugh, and he blinks. “If I tell you a secret, can you keep it between us?” You dip your voice, and the man grins.
“Well, sure.”
“I’m a bit of a smoker. Not always, but when I’m stressed. And Draven’s been stressing me out. I’m so glad I’m dumping him from my rota, though I’ll be sad not to see you around.”
The man smirks at you, letting his eyes trail over your body. “Well maybe I’ll take you for a drink off the clock some time.”
You force yourself to nod and to not recoil as he steps closer. “That the secret?”
“Well, the smoking,” you say with a chuckle. “I was trying to get out the back door so I could grab a cigarette.”
“Restricted access, authorised personnel only.” The man says with a wink. “But I could get you out there. I’m authorised.”
You widen your eyes, closing the distance to touch his forearm. “You’d do that for me? Oh, thank you so much. Really, you’re a lifesaver.”
The man’s face flushes. “You know, I always thought you and Draven… I don’t know. That there was something weird going on. You acted like you cared about him or something.”
“Did I?” You ask, eyes slipping involuntarily back towards the shadows at the side of the corridor, wondering if he can hear.
“Glad to hear you’re not into that. Spooky fucker.”
“He’s not. I mean, he’s my patient. I know him better.” Why are you arguing? Why are you defending him when this creep is about ten seconds away from handing over his keycard?
The man pauses, tilting his head. “When do you wanna get that drink?”
“I don’t know. Soon.” You say with a tight smile.
The man isn’t smiling back anymore. He steps forward, crowding you against the wall, inches from the keypad. “What are you playin’ at, doctor?”
“Nothing,” you whisper, lifting your hands to push lightly at his chest. He doesn’t budge, not an inch.
“It isn’t nice to tease. Lead a guy on cuz you wear the fancy white coat and make the fancy doctor money. Not nice at all.”
“I’m not… I wasn’t, I’m just not in a place to date at the moment. It isn’t anything to do with you.”
“I thought you were a nice girl.” He says softly, one hand slipping inside your coat to caress his fingers up your side and around the curve of your breast.
“Please don’t,” you whisper.
His hand closes roughly around your breast and squeezes, and you yelp at the sharp pressure. Then his eyes go wide as a tattooed arm wraps around his neck and drags him back, and he’s thrown to the floor.
“I knew it.” Eric seethes, shoulders squared for a challenge as he sneers down at the man. “I knew you were a piece of shit.” The man’s eyes widen, darting from Eric to you.
“You’re gunna go to fuckin jail.” He spits, voice pitchy with panic. “You can’t let him out, what are you-“
He doesn’t get any further than that. Eric brings his foot down on the man’s throat, and there’s a sickening, awful crunch as his windpipe is crushed. His eyes bulge wide as his face turns purple, a visceral gurgling sound bubbling out of his ruined throat as Eric spins to you and cups your face. “He hurt you?”
You shake your head, feeling your stomach roll with nausea. “We have to… help him… Eric, we need to call for help.”
“Shh,” he coos, dipping his head to press his lips to your forehead before pushing you against the wall. “I’ll take care of it.”
Your legs give out when Eric crouches beside the man’s head and presses his fingers against his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. “Not so cocky now, are you?” He murmurs softly. He collects a wad of saliva in his cheek and spits it, splattering against the man’s face. “Fucking pervert piece of shit.” He says, just as softly. He cracks his knuckles, the sound loud enough to carry over the orderlies awful choking, before driving his fist into the man’s face. His nose explodes in a mist of blood and cartilage, and the man makes a strangled moaning sound as he bites down on his own tongue. Blood and spit dribble from the corner of his mouth, soaking into the toe of Eric’s shoe. He rises to a stand, scraping the mess onto the man’s leg. “You’re a fucking animal.” Eric says, before he lifts his foot and brings it down to stamp on the orderlies face over and over and over again.
He crouches again to listen to the last few rattling breaths before the man’s chest goes still, and then he unclips his keycard. He’s almost forgotten you, in the midst of completing another cleansing. But when he turns he freezes, the sight of you curled in on yourself against the wall momentarily seizing around his heart. “Oh.”
“Don’t.” You whisper without lifting your head from your arms. You can’t look at him now. You can’t see what he is.
You feel the shift in the air and smell the awful metal of blood as he crouches in front of you. “We have to go, doc. There are cameras down here, someone will come.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Eric swallows hard, reaching for your arm and tugging it away from your knees. You jerk back like he’s hit you, scrambling against the wall behind you. And Eric does feel bad about it, but he has to get you out of here and to safety before he can even think about making it up to you. So he pushes to a stand and pins you against the wall with his hips, cupping your face in both hands and forcing you to look at him.
His face is a mess, a patchwork of congealing blood. “It’s me and you, doc. We leave together. He was right, you stay here and you’ll go away for helping me. Maybe even accessory.”
You swallow, tears spilling from your eyes as you look at him. “You didn’t have to kill him. You said you’d try to-“
“No, I didn’t.” Eric says softly. “I never promised you anything. Maybe you forgot that when you were cumming all over my hand, huh?”
You swallow against fresh nausea at the memory, feeling the sticky traces of blood on Eric’s fingers against your face. “I thought you were getting better. That I was helping you.”
Eric hums, dipping his head to press his bloody mouth to yours. You try to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go with him holding you still. “I’d have to be sick to get better, wouldn’t I? And I’m not sick. I’m just cleaning up. That’s what I’ve always done.” His words are a deep, poisonous murmur against your lips as his hand travels down to cup you through your skirt. He can still feel the residual heat from where he’d made you cum, and the stiff patch of your arousal against the front of your panties. “I do what I do,” he whispers, short nails grazing against your clit through the fabric, “and you want me anyway.”
You close your eyes, your body betraying you as fresh arousal rushes south to swell in your clit. Eric presses his lips to the corner of your jaw before nuzzling his nose against your throat, and you feel the smear of blood transferring to your skin, staining you with the evidence of exactly what kind of monster you were falling for.
“And you should be grateful, shouldn’t you?” He hums, hooking around the side of your underwear to press a testing finger against your clit. Your breath hitches, the slickness already soaking your pussy coating his finger. “God, so wet for me. Even after all that,” he mumbles, slipping down to circle your hole and collect the fresh slick.
“Why would I… I’m helping you.” You gasp.
“He cried when he died. On his knees. Cried like a fucking coward. Pissed his pants. Those white ones he wore to golf in. Made a real mess. Real pathetic.”
You freeze, your muscles seizing on Eric’s finger as he slowly pushes it inside you. “What are you-“
“Please, I have a family. That’s what he said.”
Your eyes roll back as Eric adds a second finger, and your head drops back against the hard wall behind you as he curls his fingers back against your sensitive walls.
“No, you don’t, I said. You got a wife you almost killed and a brother who never calls you. His face.” Eric huffs a laugh against your throat, licking the mess of blood from your skin. “You know what he offered me?”
You can do little more than whine, praying the awful, delicious torture of his fingers and his tongue and his closeness will end soon.
“He said, if I let him go, I could have his wife. That she was a bitch and a whore but she had a cunt to die for.”
You clamp down on his fingers then, muscles spasming unconsciously as Eric’s thumb stretches up to rub at your clit.
“Scumbags have offered me all sorts of things.” Eric continues, pulling away from your throat to look into your eyes. “Money, drugs, the kids they're abusing. This was the first one to offer me his wife.”
You shake your head, blinking against fresh tears. “Why are you telling me this, Eric?”
“You need a name.”
“I don’t…. we can talk about it later. I’ll come with you, I swear! We have to-“
“Transactional, doc.” He says softly. “You come with me, I’ll give you a name.”
“I don’t-“ your eyes lose focus as his fingers curl against your g-spot, perfectly timed with the rough, precise stimulation of his thumb against your clit. “I’m gunna cum.”
“Yeah, you are. Cum for me. I’ve got you. Your turn to be good for me, sweetheart.” You lose control of your muscles altogether as your orgasm hits, and Eric uses his free hand to pin your shoulder to the wall and hold you upright as you roll your hips down against his hand.
“He never deserved you.” Eric says gently, withdrawing his fingers carefully and lifting them to brush over your lips. “I wanted to make sure he’d never touch you again.”
His mouth replaces his fingers, licking against your lips and grazing your tongue with his own. “And I did.”
You feel his words ghost over your mouth and sink into your skin, the truth of them seeping into your bloodstream. Eric Draven had killed your husband. He’d known who you were the moment you stepped foot in his cell for the first time.
There is a clattering cacophony of sound approaching, heavy footfalls and raised voices. Eric pulls back, eyes searching yours. “It’s now or never, sweetheart. You coming with me?”
You swallow, wrapping your fingers around his and pulling his hands from your face as Eric swipes the keycard against the wall and drags you out into the open air.
*
“Hold still.” You grumble, sucking in your stomach to get away from the hot press of his mouth as you hover over him. You’re finally getting the hang of tying knots in the silk tight enough to actually keep him bound, but he takes… liberties with you if you can’t get him pinned down quickly enough. “Can you move?” You ask, and he flexes his wrists.
“Not really, baby.” There’s a smirk on his face, and you can’t wait to wipe it off. “I’m at your mercy.”
“Yeah,” you hum, crawling up his body and sitting over the hard bulge in his boxers. “How does it feel.”
He laughs. “Not usually the position I’m in, admittedly.”
You hum again, rocking gently against his erection as your own heat kindles in your core. “You prefer to do the tying up, don’t you?”
He moans, hands yanking at the restraints. “You got no idea. Jesus, you look good up there.”
“I’m not too old for you?” You purr.
He frowns. “Old? You’re not old, baby. Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“Would you prefer it if I cried? Begged you to stop? That what gets you off?” You’re still rocking against him, but you’re not looking at him anymore. You’re looking past him, over his head to where Eric stands in the doorway, watching.
“What are you talkin about?” The man asks, tugging at his restraints again. “I’m not into this anymore. Untie me.”
“Were any of those little girls into it?” You ask softly, reaching down to wrap your fist around his erection and squeeze. “They beg you to untie them?”
“I don’t know who the fuck you think I am but I swear to God if you don’t let me go right now you’re gunna be in for a world of hurt, I know powerful fucking people.” He spits, jerking up like he can buck you off. You pin your knees further into the mattress, and tilt your head to the side.
“You remember my name?”
“Your name?” The man scoffs. “I don’t give a shit what you call yourself, you’re a cheap fuckin whore on a power trip with-“
“You remember their names?” You cut him off squeezing his cock so hard he groans in pain.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cries. “Let me fucking go.”
“You wanna refresh his memory?” You ask, and the man’s head cranes around to watch as Eric steps into the room.
“Oh what the fuck is this? I don’t do guys I’m not a fuckin-“
The man goes very still, listening to the names of his victims rattled off in Eric’s careful, quiet tone. “What is this?”
You lean forward, digging your nails into the meat of his cock through his boxers until he whines. “Your day of reckoning. I want you to meet my boyfriend. You can call him karma.”
You slip off his lap and Eric wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. “You did good, sweetheart. You staying to watch?”
You hum, looking over the man. “No. But you’ll find me afterwards.”
Eric parts your lips with his, grazing his tongue against yours before releasing you with a light tap to your ass.
You watch him approach the bed, watch the thin silvery blade slip free from his palm, and close the door on the man’s first real scream.
Killing him takes longer than Eric would usually allow, but the piece of shit hadn’t admitted to a damn thing. Not for a long, long time. Not until he was more pulverized meat than man. Eric kicks aside a wet scattering of fingers and toes as he shrugs out of his soaked shirt and pushes the door open with the toe of his boot.
You’re sprawled out on the bed like an angel, still wearing nothing but the black lace teddy and matching thong you’d put on to lure the latest monster on Eric’s ever growing list. Your eyes are closed and there’s a little crease between your brows, and Eric feels guilty for leaving you lonely and waiting for so long. He thumbs his sweats and boxers down, using the fabric to wipe up the worst of the blood on his bare arms before he crawls onto the bed and pushes your legs apart.
You stir a little, but you don’t wake as Eric carefully pushes the lace of your thong to the side and inhales deeply against your hot, wet pussy. His cock is already half hard from the kill, and it throbs insistently at the heady, rich of scent of you as he breathes you in. You moan softly, and Eric looks up to check if you’re still sleeping. Your eyes are still closed, the little line between your brows still too deep. He dips his head again, sticking out his tongue to trace the little swollen nub of your clit. You’d gone to sleep aching for him, and he intended to make it better right fucking now.
Eric braces his large hands on the soft flesh of your thighs as he parts them, licking against you from your entrance up to your clit, his saliva mingling with your arousal until you’re dripping onto the mattress below.
You whimper and try to close your legs against the sensation, but he holds you firmly open as he sucks your clit into his mouth and laves his tongue against the sensitive bud. Eric moans against you, sending vibrations right to your core, and your eyes open as they roll back and your hand drops to stroke against the short black hair on his head. You thread your fingers into it and tug, and Eric looks up at you. He doesn’t release your clit from his mouth, but he closes one eye in a wink as he sucks hard against you, and your hips roll up against his face as you press him harder against your pussy. “You’re late,” you groan.
He releases your clit, kissing it over and over before he rests his head on your inner thigh. “Got carried away. Got more names though. All of them.”
You bite your bottom lip into your mouth, fisting his hair harder to push him back against you. “Good boy. Such a… fuckin…” you break off as your orgasm begins to roll through you, pleasure rippling through your core as your empty body clenches around nothing.
Eric knows you’re right on the edge, and he sinks two long fingers into you, feeling the flutter of your muscles around the digits as he curls them back against your most sensitive spot. The move is your undoing and you cum with a strangled moan of his name, spine arching off the bed as you grind up against his face and Eric coaxes every drop of your orgasm out of you.
Eric pulls away when he’s certain he’s licked every last inch of you clean, and he wipes his slick face on the back of his arm, smearing his chin with blood.
“You make a mess?” You ask, and Eric bites his bottom lip.
“I got carried away.”
You hum, pushing up and beckoning him onto the bed. Your eyes scan the streaky gore on his arms and the deep red stain on his fingers, and you shudder at the thought of those fingers inside you. “You need me to supervise your showers, Draven?”
His eyes darken at the memory, at the reminder of where you’d both been just a few short months ago. “I got a better idea.” His tone is low and dangerous, and you press your thighs together as Eric climbs off the bed and wraps a loose hand around your throat. “You wanna clean me up, doc?”
You let him roll you onto your back, let him drape your head over the edge of the bed to stretch out the column of your throat. You relax into it as Eric pushes his cock into your mouth, closing your eyes against the sting as he wraps his fingers in your hair and pins you in place. The fat head of his cock pushes into your throat with a stretching burn, and you feel tears spring to your eyes to drip onto the carpet below as he snaps his hips against your face. You’d expected he’d do this, as he did almost any time you reminded him of his imprisonment.
“I’ve got you,” he coos, releasing your hair to rub his thumb over the bulge of his own cock in your throat. “You’re mine. This is mine.” You hum around his length, hollowing your cheeks to suction around him as you press your tongue flat, feeling the pulse of the thick vein on the underside of his cock. “Knew the first time I saw you. The first time.” He groans. “Walking out of the ER, looking around for that piece of shit. Looking so lost.”
You sob around his cock, and the hand in your hair strokes against your scalp. “But then that guy tried to touch your ass and you tore him a goddamn new one.” Eric huffs, his cock throbbing with the memory of your defiant scowl as you shoved him away. “You still had your fire. And now look at you.” His tone is almost reverent, even as you gag and choke on his cock, drool pooling on the floor beneath your head. “Saving people from all that… all that… shit,” he groans, pulling out of your mouth.
He climbs back onto the bed, slick cock bobbing against his stomach as he wraps his hands around your ankles and tugs you back underneath him. “Making the wrong things right. Cleaning up the streets.” He pushes your thighs apart and enters you in one long thrust, bottoming out with a groan as he drops over you. You cling to his back, nails leaving sharp crescents in the ink painted across his skin, and Eric moans as he fucks into you roughly.
“Love you, Eric,” you whisper, eyes rolling back as you clamp down hard on his cock. You’re not a doctor anymore. You’ve traded your title and your name and your whole life for motels and burner phones and blood. But looking up at him, your green eyed avenging angel, and feeling his cock throb inside you and his mouth whispering praise against your lips, you can’t bring yourself to regret a single minute of it.
Summary: Bill knows that skipping out of work early to get home when he’s hired a babysitter is kinda not the point. But you’re so pretty, and you’re sweet and you’re interested in him. And after a bad breakup and learning to navigate fatherhood on his own, he just really, really likes your company.
Word Count: 4820
Warnings: NSFW, hand jobs, PiV sex – that’s pretty much it for this one.
DISCLAIMER: Tragically, I do not own Bill Skarsgård or any of the other people in this story. This is a complete work of fiction and I don't claim otherwise. Pls don't sue me.
A/N: This was a request from the lovely @elisabethturner1919 but the ask had several prompts in it so for the sake of keeping things organized I'm posting it as a standalone. Hope you like it!
MDNI, fic under the cut
There’s a stack of dishes in the kitchen sink, and Bill is pretty sure the bottom layer is growing new lifeforms. He rubs a hand against the back of his head, a blush creeping up the sides of his neck as he watches you scan over the apartment.
“It’s not always like this, I-“
“I get it.” You cut across him, offering him a smile you hope is reassuring. It seems to work, a little of the tension bleeds out of the tall man standing in front of you. You’d assessed the situation within two minutes of your arrival. His shirt is rumpled, a fraying hole where a button’s missing, hanging open against his collar where the skin is stretched too tightly over bone. There are dark circles under his eyes, swollen puffy bruises making his big green eyes appear sunken. Like he isn’t sleeping, or eating, or… taking care of anything, really.
The apartment is just further proof of it, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose at the rotting dishes, the piles of trash and the never-ending mountains of dirty laundry covering every available surface. “Could I meet the girls?”
The ghost of a smile passes over his face. “Yes. The girls, absolutely. They’re excited to see you. You know, having a woman around again.”
You nod, following him down the hall to a bedroom with pink flower stickers all over the door. He knocks twice before opening, an endearingly polite gesture considering his daughters are three and five. “You guys ready to meet your new babysitter?”
“We’re not babies.” The older girl grumbles, pulling herself up against an enormous doll house and holding out her hand. “I’m Jess.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” You dip into a curtsey, and the girl giggles.
“And that’s Sam.”
You curtsey again, lower and grander, and Sam blushes.
“She’s going to be taking care of you whilst daddy’s at work, okay?” Bill says, his tone a million times lighter when he’s talking to the kids.
“Okay, daddy.” Jess says.
“Okay. Back to playing, now.” Bill ruffles her hair, and you follow him into the main lounge area.
“They’re great.”
Bill grins. “I know. They’re… the reason I’m getting through it. I have to be okay for them.”
You swallow, eyes travelling around the wreck of the apartment again. “You’d going good, Mr Skarsgård.”
Bill winces. “That sounds… call me Bill. Please.”
You smile. “Alright, Bill.”
“I’ll… get this place cleaned up, before you start. I can… I’ll get it sorted.”
He picks up a little pink dress that’s so caked in spaghetti sauce it practically crackles in his hand, and winces again.
“Bill.”
“Yeah.”
“I can start right now if you want.”
Bill’s eyes snap to you. “I couldn’t ask you to…”
“I can wash dishes. I can do laundry. You should let me.”
Bill swallows thickly. “I’m not paying you to clean.”
“You’re paying me to help. Let. Me.”
A pretty pink flush stains his cheeks. “It’s not usually like this.”
“Go play with the girls. I’ll get this place cleaned up, and I’ll figure something out for dinner. Okay?”
He purses his lips, eyes flitting over the chaos before fixing on you. “You’re sure?” His voice is soft, eyes searching yours.
“Yes, Bill. Go. I got this.”
Bill feels like the world’s biggest asshole as he heads back to his daughters’ room. He can hear the clattering of plates in the kitchen, and he winces. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. He should have hired a cleaning crew before he called you. He should have moved to a new apartment and burned this one to the ground. But he hadn’t expected you to be so… you. So smart, so articulate, so instantly, magnetically likeable. He hadn’t expected you to be so fucking pretty. And now you were washing mold from his dishes and handling his dirty boxers and he couldn’t be more mortified, actually.
It isn’t so hard once you get started. You bundle as much laundry as you can into sacks and haul them down to the laundry room in the basement, filling three washers at once and setting a timer on your phone before jogging back up to the apartment to start on the dishes. It’s almost therapeutic, watching the stacked pile go from dirty to clean, from chaotic to gleaming and organized. You wash and dry in batches, figuring out where things are supposed to go. You grimace at the state of the counters underneath, coating them with cleaning spray and leaving them to soak as you run down to switch the laundry into the dryers and start a second batch.
By five you’re sweaty and exhausted, but the apartment shines. The laundry is folded into piles, ready to go away in the drawers, and there’s pasta bubbling away on the stove.
You knock on the girls’ bedroom door, and Bill opens it. He’s wearing a full face of terrible, clownish makeup, and there’s a diamante crown shoved roughly into his hair. “Don’t.”
You stifle a laugh. “You look beautiful, ma’am.”
Bill rolls his eyes, reaching up to untangle the tiara from his hair. “Jess is going to be a makeup artist.”
You smirk, eying the smudgy red shadow sweeping up into his eyebrows. “She’ll be booked solid.”
Bill grins, his own eyes catching on something in your hair. He lifts his hand without thinking, plucking a little tuft of lint from your hair with gentle fingers. “Laundry?”
You swallow, taking an unconscious step back. “All done. It’s all done, actually.”
Bill shakes his head. “You can’t have possibly…” He steps out, heart clenching painfully in his chest at his clean, organized apartment. “You’re a miracle worker.”
You scoff, waving your hand in the air. “It was no big deal, really. And it’s just pasta for dinner. I think you might need to go grocery shopping.”
“I usually get a… someone does that. I mean, I assume someone does. There was always… just food in there.” He rubs his thumb over his jaw. “I probably sound pathetic.”
You shake your head. “Not at all. You sound like a guy whose having to figure it all out a little too late. That’s all.”
“Yeah.” Bill chuckles humorlessly. “Like I said. Pathetic.”
*
Bill’s watching the clock in his office. It’s only 3.30, a full two hours before his day ends, but he’s been glancing at the clock every few minutes since 3PM anyway. Because the girls have finished school, and that means you’re probably walking them home right now. Slowly, because Sam insists she’s too old for the pram now even though a snail could outpace her.
Bill had apologized to you the first time, when you mentioned it had taken an hour to walk half a mile home. But you’d grinned, glancing at his girls with open affection. “It was fun. You miss stuff when you walk too fast, don’t you?”
Bill had just blinked at you, because how was it possible that a babysitter he’d found in the classifieds could be this perfect? Bill sighs, shaking his head and forcing his eyes back to his computer. Emails, meeting requests, blah, blah, blah. His phone chimes, and he almost drops it in his haste to open the message from you.
Hey daddy, we’re making cupcakes! Hope work is good!
He opens the attachment, a smile stretching across his face at the batter-coated grins of his children and the smile on your face as you hold the camera up. Bill’s stomach flips over.
“Fuck it.” He mutters, hitting the power button on his computer. Work could wait, just this once.
You hear the sound of the door opening, and hand the piping bag to Jess as you step out into the hall. “Bill? You’re home early.”
“Oh. Uh, there was a power issue. Office closed.”
“Oh, hopefully nothing serious. You’re in time to take over with frosting, if you want.”
“Daddy’s too messy!” Jess calls from the kitchen.
“She’s right.” Bill shrugs. “No eye for detail.”
“Well, I could stay just to finish the cupcakes. Then I’ll get out of your hair, promise.”
Bill wants to tell you to stay as long as you like, to stay longer than that. But he doesn’t. He nods, offering you a shrug. “I think the girls would like it if you did.”
Bill sits at the kitchen island and watches, his stomach knotting and unknotting with a nauseating mix of longing and sadness as he watches you. You press a tiny dollop of frosting to Sam’s nose, and she giggles before smearing your cheek with it.
“You little beast!” You squeal, wiping at your face. “Daddy, aren’t you going to do something?”
Bill raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not messing with her! Don’t wanna end up with frosting on my face too, you know.”
You shake your head, handing the girls a bag of sprinkles. “Okay ladies, go crazy with this. I want so many sprinkles on those cupcakes that they’ll turn your tongues rainbow.”
You step away as the girls dissolve into hysterics, scattering colorful strands of sugar all over the counter. “I’ll clean it up before I go.”
Bill turns to look at you, biting the corner of his lip into his mouth. “No need.”
“I insist.”
He huffs a laugh, and you turn away from the girls. There’s still a smudge of frosting on your cheek, and Bill reaches towards you reflexively. “You’ve got a- just-“
His thumb makes contact with your cheek and you freeze, your breath catching in your lungs as he drags the pad of his thumb over your skin. “Got it.” His voice is barely a whisper, and your lips part on a slow exhale.
“Thanks.”
“Daddy?” Jess asks, and Bill snaps his hand back as he turns to his eldest daughter.
“What is it sweetheart?”
“Can we go play in our room while the frosting sets?”
“Of course. I’ll call you for dinner.”
Jess zips past, but Sam lingers. She climbs carefully off her stool and reaches for you, pressing her small hand to your knee. “You stay for dinner?” She asks in her quiet, lispy voice.
“Oh, I.” You glance at Bill. “I mean, I think daddy wants some time with just you tonight.”
Bill shrugs. “If you want to stay, you’d be welcome. Uh, more than welcome.”
You swallow, nodding once before leaning down to Sam’s level. “Then I’d love to stay for dinner. Thank you, Sam.”
Sam grins, patting your knee once before running off to join her sister.
“You don’t have to. I mean, don’t feel obliged to. If you have plans, or you need to get back to your boyfriend or something.”
You fight a smile at his less-than-subtle attempt at fishing. “No, no plans.”
*
After dinner, you clear the dishes whilst Bill reads the girls a story, and you’re just slipping your coat on when he closes their bedroom door and pauses. “You going?”
You shrug. “I mean, the girls are asleep. I think my duties are well and truly ended for the evening.”
Bill nods, a blush staining his cheeks. “Right, of course. That’s… of course.” He brushes past you, opening the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If the power issue is resolved.”
“Huh?”
You raise an eyebrow. “The power issue? At your office.”
“Oh.” Bill nods. “That. Yes. If it’s resolved.” He licks his lips nervously, eyes dipping to your mouth and back up. “Thank you for staying. It was nice to just… be normal for a little while. Gets lonely.”
You’re almost through the door, one foot in the corridor, when you turn and look at him. Really look at him. The hunch of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. “Bill?”
“Hmm?”
“I could do with a drink. You got anything to drink?”
Bill’s face splits into a breathtaking smile. “I have a bottle of red that I’ve been dying to try.”
*
You’re sitting on the couch, your third glass in hand. Bill’s beside you, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. He laughs as he tells you about a prank he played on one of his older brother’s as a child, and his laugh is so infectious that you laugh too.
“Thank you. For this. I know you stayed out of pity.” Bill clears his throat, averting his eyes for a moment.
You drop your hand to his thigh. “I didn’t.”
His eyes fix to your hand against his black jeans, and he feels the stirring of his cock. That hadn’t happened for anyone at all in a long time, and he fidgets until you withdraw it. “A sense of duty then. If you’re fishing for a raise…”
You scoff. “You already overpay me.”
“Why are you doing it? I mean, babysitting seems like… I don’t know. A little below your skillset.”
“I used to be a private tutor. Did it for five years.”
Bill whistles. “That explains it then. Jess could barely mumble through a page of her book a month ago. Now she’s reading the whole thing to me.”
You hum. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
“Why did you stop? You obviously have a talent for it.”
You feel your face flush at the praise. “I want to teach. Not just one or two kids at a time, but whole classes. I want to find a school that really needs me, somewhere I can make a difference.”
Bill swallows. “What’s stopping you?”
“I need to be like… qualified for that. Going back to school isn’t cheap. And the family I was tutoring for have moved abroad. So I figured I’d put an ad out and see.”
“Enter… all this chaos.” Bill murmurs, sipping his wine.
You glance around the apartment affectionately. “I love it here. I love the girls. I love… everything about this job. You have a great family, Bill.”
Bill’s stomach flips over. “When do you think you’ll be… leaving us?” Me, his brain screams. When are you leaving me?
“School’s expensive.” It’s all you say, and Bill doesn’t press for more. He doesn’t want to know, actually. “When did… your wife leave?”
The silence thickens into something tangible between you.
“I’m sorry.” You say into the tension. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No.” Bill grits out. He’s surprised how hard it is to talk around the lump forming in his throat. “It’s okay. She’s… look, she’s great. She’s a great mom, and she gave me more chances than I probably deserved. I couldn’t see how unhappy she was until it was too late to fix it. And I have to live with that.”
“Where is she now?”
Bill shrugs, a little wine sloshing out of his glass and splashing onto the white cotton of his shirt.
“Oh, no.” You put your own glass down, fingers going automatically to his buttons. “That’ll stain if we don’t get it in to soak.”
Bill lets you work his shirt open, holding his glass aloft as you tug his arm out of the sleeve. Your fingers ghost against his bare chest as he shrugs out of the other side, and your eyes drop to drink in the lightly toned expanse of his skin. “I’ll… I’ll put it in the sink, get some dish soap on it.” You mumble, fingers still splayed against his chest.
Bill’s fingers wrap around your wrist, holding your hand against him. “I have other shirts.”
“It’ll be ruined.”
“I’ll live.” His voice has dropped low, and he shifts his hips lightly as his cock throbs against the confines of his jeans.
Your hand is on fire. Bill’s chest is a searing point against your palm, and your heart beats in your throat as he flexes his long fingers against the pulse on your wrist. “When did your wife leave?”
“It’s been eighteen months. But she’d checked out a long time before that. We both had.”
You nod slowly, letting your fingers drag lightly down his chest. Bill sucks in a breath, stomach muscles tensing as your nails tease against his skin. “When did you last…” you trail off, and Bill feels a flush of embarrassment even as his cock aches.
“Before Sam was born.”
You still, eyes darting up to his face. “Sam turns four in a month.”
“I know.” He breathes shakily, hips lifting unconsciously towards your hand as it travels lower. “Believe me, I know.”
You press your thighs together as heat pools between your legs. “Doing the babysitter’s a cliché, isn’t it?”
Bill makes a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re here and you’re touching him like you want him as badly as he wants you. He can’t remember exactly what it feels like to have someone touch his cock because they want to, and not because there’s a ring on their finger. “You’re not like… my twelve year old neighbor.”
You raise an eyebrow, your fingers dipping just into the waistband of his jeans. “Well I should fucking hope not.”
Bill groans, shaking his head. “I mean… fuck. I can’t think.”
You hum, reaching your free hand for his belt and tugging the buckle loose. “Then don’t think, Mr Skarsgård. Just let me take care of it.”
Bill moans, his head dropping back onto the couch. You slip your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around the hot, silky length of him. You squeeze lightly, and Bill whimpers. “Please.”
You glide your hand up, thumbing over his tip to collect the precum there before dragging your palm down his shaft. Bill’s hips lift, fucking up into your hand with sharp upward thrusts, and you commit the sight of him falling apart so easily to memory. Your eyes drift to the hall, listening for any sign that the girls might be awake, but there’s no sound aside from the little grunts and groans coming from Bill.
He’s watching you, the pretty look of concentration on your face, the way you poke your tongue out of the corner of your mouth. He wants to push your face down, to force his cock down your throat and see how pretty you look then, but he’s a gentleman first and he’d never. Not without your enthusiastic consent, anyway.
“I like your cock, Mr Skarsgård.”
Bill’s eyes roll back. “Bill.”
“I don’t think so,” you coo, twisting your wrist as you squeeze around his sensitive, leaking head. “You gunna cum for me? You remember how to?”
Bill scoffs, the sound morphing into a breathless moan as you squeeze particularly tight. “I still… fuckin…” he groans, pressing his knuckles to his mouth to stifle a loud moan. “Jerk off.”
You lick your lips, watching him writhe and struggle. “You think about me when you do?”
Bill’s eyes open, his cheeks pinking. His pupils have blown wide, the dark eating the green of his irises. He sucks his full bottom lip into his mouth, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and your mouth fills with saliva. “Yeah,” he whispers. “All the time.”
You lean in then, pressing your mouth to his and pulling his lip between your own teeth, and Bill cums with a whine that vibrates against your tongue as he paints your fist and his stomach with his release. You pull away from the kiss first, and Bill lifts his head to chase your mouth, but you’re too quick. “Isn’t that better?”
Bill hums, eyes fixing on your swollen lips. “Can I… can I get you off?” His voice is thick and slurred, and your clit throbs.
“Not tonight. I really got to get going, Bill.”
Bill again, then. He forces a shrug through his disappointment. “Some other time, then.”
*
He’s going to lose his job. His boss glances up from her desk as Bill packs his bag, and her eyes flick to the clock. 3.15. He’s been leaving early almost every day, and you don’t comment on it anymore, don’t make him come up with some fake excuse for his arrival. Instead you smirk at him, gaze heating with the promise of bedtime, and Bill’s hurrying the girls through brushing their teeth and skipping pages of their story before flipping off the lights and closing the door.
He’s going to lose his job, but it’s hard to care about that with you bent over the kitchen island. You lift your skirt, a little pleated thing so reminiscent of a schoolgirl uniform that Bill was hard almost the moment he stepped foot in the apartment. It had been annoying, hiding his erection and trying to concentrate as Jess told him about her day and Sam showed him a picture she’d drawn of the family. Of two little girls, an absurdly tall daddy, and you. Standing next to him, your hair drawn in crayon, a big smile on your face. His family. It had almost been enough to make him cry, but then you’d dropped a fork and bent over right in front of him, flashing pink cotton panties, and Bill’s mind had focused down to a single, primal hunger.
“You’re a bad girl.” He mutters, leaning forward to tug on your ponytail as his hips snap against yours. “You’re a filthy little thing.”
You moan, rolling back to meet each thrust as his cock fills you and your arousal drips onto the kitchen floor. “M’sorry, Mr Skarsgård.”
Bill groans, reaching his free hand around your hip to rub messy circles against your clit. “Yeah, you’re sorry. You wanted this, didn’t you? Putting on that little skirt, giving me a show.”
“Yes,” you whimper, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle your moans as your orgasm builds in your core.
“Fuck,” Bill spits, eyes rolling back at the way you clench and flutter around him. “You like the way I fuck you?”
Your jaw goes slack as his cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside you. “Yessss,” you hiss. Bill’s fingers tighten in your hair, his fingers pinching and circling your swollen clit as he fucks against that spot over and over.
“You like playing mommy? Like taking daddy’s cock?”
You press your lips together, clamping down hard on his cock. You know he’s just talking shit, that he babbles like this when he’s close to cumming, but the taunt does something unpleasant to your insides.
“Shit, there you go. That’s a good fucking girl,” he coos. “Cum for me. Cum on my cock.”
You push his words from your mind, fluttering your muscles around him and focusing on the delicious friction of his fingers against you as the coil of arousal snaps in your stomach and you’re flooded with waves of toe-curling pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, rocking back and forth against his hand as he impales you on his cock faster, harder.
“Oh shiiii-“ He groans, the hand in your hair pushing your face against the kitchen island as he stills inside you, shooting his load deep against your cervix.
By the time you’ve recovered enough strength in your legs to push up from the counter, Bill’s already tucked his cock away. He watches you, biting his lip at the shake in your legs as you lean against the island for support.
“Did I go too hard?”
“No.” You fix the front of your shirt, smoothing your skirt down over your ass. “But… it’s just… something you said kinda bothered me.”
Bill knows what you’re going to say. “I’m sorry.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not… playing mommy. That’s not what this is.”
Bill nods, swallowing thickly. “I know.”
“I get that you say shit in the heat of the moment. I know you didn’t mean it.”
Bill rocks back on his heels. “Maybe I did, though.”
“I… don’t follow.” You say slowly, feeling your stomach churn. If that’s what he thought of you, that you were trying to replace the girls’ mother… you’d quit. You’d have to.
“It’s not like I think you’re doing anything wrong.” He starts, running a hand back through his hair. “It’s more like I… wish you were. Their mom.”
It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room. Like Bill’s wrenched the air out of your lungs. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Bill folds his arms across his chest. “You’re so good with them. You cook and you clean and you fuck me better than anyone else ever has. I wish I’d met you first.”
You fight the urge to laugh at the stubborn, simplistic innocence of him. “You pay me.”
“I’m not paying you to fuck me. Or to… care about me.”
“No.” You agree softly, stepping closer and tugging his arms away from his chest, bracketing them around your waist instead. “And I do care about you, Bill. And the girls, of course. But this is… this is a fantasy. I’m fulfilling a fantasy for you.”
Bill shakes his head, fingers tightening on your hips. “I’m in love with you.”
Your heart aches. “What’s my last name?”
Bill blinks at you. “What?”
“Where was I born? Are my parents still together? Do I have any pets?”
Bill shakes his head. “Why are you fighting me on this?”
You reach up and curl your fingers around the back of his neck, bringing his face to yours so you can press your lips against his. “You don’t love me, Bill. But I think you’re ready for it. To be in love again.”
Bill releases your hips to cup your face in his big hands, pressing your lips open and licking his tongue into your mouth. You sigh into it, relishing the taste of him and the warm weight of his hands on your cheeks.
You break the kiss, because you’re always the one who does. “Not with me.”
Bill frowns, tugging you back and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. His thigh pushes up between your legs, denim grazing over your sensitive core through your soaked panties, and you whine into his mouth.
You pull away, eyes dropping to the movement of his thigh. “Why not with you?” His voice is thick and low, and he licks slowly over his lips. “You want me.”
You hum, eye fluttering shut at the friction of him dragging against your clit through the layers of fabric. “You need someone… on your level.” You gasp, and Bill takes the moment to wrap an arm around your ass and lift you onto the counter. He pushes your skirt up and slips his fingers into your underwear, pushing two long digits inside you to squelch through the mess of cum he’d left behind.
“You’re on my level. Fuck, you’re out of my league.”
“That’s…” you break off, sucking a shaking breath into your lungs. “That’s not what I mean. I… I’m not ready for you.”
Bill scoffs, curling his fingers inside you. “Feels pretty fucking ready.”
You force your eyes open, pressing your hands to his shoulders. “I don’t want to be a mother.”
Bill’s fingers freeze inside you, his cock deflating like you’d doused him in ice. “What?”
“I’m not ready to have kids. I like kids, I’m good with them. But I’m too young to even think about having my own. Or raising someone elses.”
Bill pulls his fingers out of you, fighting the urge to suck the mess off of them as he wipes his hand on his jeans. “But you love the girls.”
You nod, pressing your teeth into your lip. “They’re fantastic. And one day I hope to have my own, just like them. But that’s… years away. It’s not now. I’m going back to school, I want to travel. I’m not ready for this to be it.”
Bill flinches, stepping back. You don’t know that his wife had said almost the exact same thing to him before she walked out the door. You can’t know how much it hurts him to hear it again, right when he’d really started to believe you were his second chance. “I’m not trying to tie you down.”
You smile softly. “You can tie me up, Mr Skarsgård. But not down.”
“Is this your… formal resignation?” He asks, his voice tight as he tries very hard not to lose it.
“Do you need it to be?”
Bill considers this. “I don’t want you to go. But… I think I’m gunna get fired if I keep leaving work early and I can’t not leave early when I know you’re here.”
You nod slowly. “Then I think we need to find you a babysitter you don’t wanna fuck.”
Bill laughs, the sound harsh to his own ears. “Can I keep fucking you anyway?”
You roll your eyes. “You gunna ask me my last name?”
Bill grins. “No.”
You lean forward, hooking a finger into his waistband and tugging him closer until you can wrap your legs around his waist. “Then do your worst, Mr Skarsgård.”
A/N - I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I am so proud of this chapter. This is the last part! So I've tried to make it extra lengthy (pun intended) I've had so much fun writing this little story, thank you so much for reading!!
Content warnings: Protected P in V, oral (Fem receiving), use of rope as restraint, use of bullet vibrator and a little bit of fluff.
Word count: 4124
You are very quick to learn that Eric does not do things by half measure and you working for him, gives him the perfect advantage. He sends flowers to your apartment sometimes, little notes accompany them each time. Since he learned that you can’t do casual Eric has done everything in his power to show you that he doesn’t want casual either. You may not have a label but there's an unspoken contract between you.
Going to work feels like less of a chore but damn is it difficult to stay professional when your not casual boss walks into the office he owns. To your delight he now spends more time watching you than you ever did watching him. You giggle to yourself when you notice Eric, pushing his palm onto his crotch to relieve some of the pressure from his aching cock.
Staying late in the office is now more of a reward than a punishment, he knows at around 7:30 you’ll walk into his office asking to go and get food. So he’ll hand you the black company card that he gets out of the draw at 7:25. On the rare occasion he’ll eat with you but he prefers eating you out instead, the food is often left discarded on his desk while you cum on his tongue.
But it occurs to you that you still don’t know much about him? Where he lives, what his house looks like? Right now everything is still superficial. It’s not an issue, but it’s not ideal. So the thought passes through as quickly as it came.
You’re walking to your car after another late shift when Eric stops you.
“Before you leave, I wanted to ask you out to dinner tomorrow. Away from work” how are you meant to say no. Maybe if you say yes, you’ll break down the barrier a little bit.
“I’d love to Eric, thank you” you step on your tiptoes to give him a small peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow” you smile and turn to your car and Eric watches you drive away, he doesn't move until your car is no longer in sight.
When he gets home he thinks about you. He always does. You’ve brought something to life in him. Something that used to be dead. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s love. Either way he’s grateful to have it back in his grasp. Though he feels guilty for not sharing any of it with you he’s so glad you aren’t rushing him.
As he looks around his home it all feels so bare, heartless like nobody lives there. For a long time, nobody really did. But tomorrow he wants to make a very small gesture. One that shows you he wants to let you in. He's isolated himself for so long that the simplest of information shared feels like he's told you his life story. But you seem curious so he’s trying despite his reservations.
The text lights up your phone while your cooking
Eric: I’ll pick you up at 6:30, wear whatever makes you comfortable and DON’T bring any money. Can’t wait to see you
You: i’ll be ready, thank you, can’t wait to see you too xxx
You are not going to wear comfortable clothes. No way in hell. This man is making the effort to take you somewhere nice and he’s been treating you so kindly, even after your stunt in the office. The least he deserves is a nice view over dinner. So after you’ve finished eating you go to your room and search your closet for the perfect outfit to wear. Your favourite black dress, a bedazzled pair of heels and your black choker.
At around 4:30 the next day you start getting ready. You leave your hair cascading over your bare shoulders, the black dress is a little tight but it shows off all the right areas in a way you know he will appreciate. You keep the make up minimal, just a little lipstick and a dust of eye shadow.
Eric waits outside of your apartment. He’s been there since 6:00 at the off chance you might be ready early, he knows better of it though. He smiles to himself when he sees the bedroom curtain move and your face appears. You won’t recognise his car though, it’s one you’ve never seen. Because tonight he’s trying to let you in. So he arrived in his personal car, not his business one.
You open the front door at 6:28, you will not keep him waiting. The navy blue car in front of you is unfamiliar so you're surprised to see Eric inside it. He steps out and walks around, opening the car door and gesturing to you to get in. He looks exactly like he does at work…just without the jacket and tie. This must be his version of comfort.
“You look beautiful Y/N, but I asked you to dress comfortably” his head tilts to the side as he looks you up and down, clearly impressed.
“What if I am comfortable?” you retort, holding onto the car door.
“Those heels are not comfortable and that dress looks tight, I appreciate the effort though” he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How do you know these heels aren’t comfortable Eric? Do you have experience wearing them?” you argue again. Eric just laughs it off.
“Fine you win, get in. we have a reservation to make” the car door slams shut behind you. The scent in his car is perfect. It just smells like him and your muscles relax.
The drive is quiet, a comfortable silence that none of you feel the need to fill. When red lights appear his hand is on your thigh, rubbing circles tentatively. Your hand covers his, simply grateful to be there. You drive through a part of the city you’ve never seen before, it looks fancy. Definitely out of your price range no wonder Eric had told you not to bring money. You pull up to a restaurant and the place looks Italian. You must have passively mentioned it was your favourite.
You both get seated fast, because of Eric’s reservation and probably because of his name. The booth is placed at the back near the window where you can see a bunch of colourful flowers outside. It's cozy and private. Much like Eric himself.
The waiter pours you both a glass of wine that Eric had also reserved without your knowledge, mostly because of the price. You both sit quietly looking at the menu when your eyes widen at the prices beside the names.
“Don’t you dare look at the price, order what you want.” Eric’s eyes pierce through you over his menu. He had been waiting for that reaction.
You put your menu down “Eric I can’t let you pay for this, it’s so expensive”
“You can and you will. You're quick to forget you have a CEO boyfriend” you both freeze at the word boyfriend. Neither of you had decided what this was. But it looked pretty clear now.
You try to recover quickly. “And you’re quick to forget you have a girlfriend who grew up with nothing” Eric exhales. Feeling the relief of knowing he hadn’t jumped the gun.
You go back to looking at the menu and pick out the most basic thing on there; a lasagna, Eric orders the same thing. The food comes quickly, briefly interrupting your conversation, as soon as the waiter leaves you continue.
“So you were saying?” Eric prompts you to continue
“I was saying that you can’t just splurge money on me just because you have it” You dip your fork into the food below trying to take a graceful bite so your millionaire boyfriend doesn’t know that you eat pretty fast.
There's something almost dominant about Eric tonight. “I can spend my money on whatever I like, right now it’s being spent on you.” He doesn’t even look at you as he says it and for some reason it's making you horny.
You continue taking bites of your food carefully and you don’t think he’s noticed until he blurts out “you know you can eat normally right?”
You stop mid chew to cover your mouth “what?” he sighs.
“Y/N I’ve seen you eat at the office, you don’t have to be all graceful about it, take bigger bites like you usually do” he takes a big bite of his own then, aiming to ease your anxieties.
You swallow the rest of your food “can I ask you something? Well a few things actually?”
His chest tightens but he nods anyway “Sure go for it” he leans back and takes a sip of his wine hoping it’s nothing crazy just yet.
“How do you always notice things about me? Have you always been this observant?” you take the bigger bite of your food and you swear it tastes better this way.
“I guess I notice because I’m around you a lot and I think I’ve always been like it, I just rarely show it” he shrugs as if your tiny mind hasn’t been blown by his honesty. You finish the food on your plate, content and full. The price weighs on your mind just a little.
“Can I ask you something?” It's now your turn to feel dread. But you do the same as him and nod “sure”
“Why are you so afraid to take up space or be yourself?” Shit. you didn’t really know how to answer that but if you wanted him to open up, you had to lead by example.
“I’m not completely sure if I'm honest. It’s just something I’ve gotten used to over the years. I do what I’m told and that’s that. People who don’t take up much space can’t face the consequences of being too much.” you exhale, the weight of the admission sitting heavily on you.
Eric nods understandingly he’d watched you shrink in the office many of times “well you don’t need to shrink yourself down in front of me”
“And you don’t have to have your barriers up around me, boyfriend” you both smirk and continue drinking your very expensive wine.
Eric orders dessert first, a chocolate lava cake and vanilla ice cream and you just have the ice cream. It feels like he’s taunting you as his tongue reaches the spoon licking off the chocolate sauce left behind. The mood has certainly changed from the curious ‘get to know you section’ of the evening.
Eric is achingly hard watching you eat your ice cream. A part of him is convinced you work for the devil and you were sent to punish him. Then he remembers you work for him so his theory checks out. But he can't sweep you away until his little gesture is complete.
“I hope I’m not being too forward here but after we're done, do you wanna go back to mine?” you ask silently praying that the answer is yes.
“Y/N, I’ve had you bent over my desk more times than I can count, going back your place isn’t forward at all” you choke on your wine trying to stay graceful in the fancy restaurant, he kindly hands you a napkin “but we’re actually going back to mine, I have a few plans”
Your brain tries to cook up as many ideas as it can trying to figure out what the plan could be. God you hope it involves having his cock in you. But you're sure even if it doesn't you’ll be happy.
Eric pays the bill and leaves a tip, he tries to hide the number but you catch it anyway, it’s not as bad as you expected but it would still make a dent in your own account. He opens the car door for you and you climb in, shocked that the wine hasn’t made you feel tipsy or light headed. In fact your mind feels clearer than it has in years.
You drive once again in a peaceful silence, the window down with the night air filling your senses, you put your head back against the head rest and let your eyes close. And Eric can't help but enjoy the sight of you relaxed without an orgasm. It’s so rare.
Eric pulls up to a store, it looks like they sell flowers. You go in together and he makes you pick out an artificial one. So you pick out three white roses. Eric pays despite your protests and opens the door to the car to sit you back down again. You feel valued.
The drive continues until eventually you pull up to his home. It's exactly what you expect. It’s plain and impersonal. Kind of like his office. Eric guides you through his home, it's huge but empty. He pulls you into his living room. Scared of what you might think. This is the most personal room he has in the house, though not by much.
The couch is red. Maroon almost. The table is wooden, cherry you think. The chandelier hanging above is warm. Not like the harsh cold lighting at work. There's a few family pictures over by the black fireplace but that's it. It's the most he could do while feeling so alone.
“Here take the flowers you picked out and place them somewhere, anywhere you want” he passes you the vase sitting on his table.
“Eric are you sure?, I don’t want to mess anything up” He huffs a laugh, smiling lightly.
“You can’t mess this up, put them where you want” So you look around the room searching for a place that calls to you. You see a chair next to the giant window with a small table with a book on it and decide that’s where it should go. The room feels too big but something about this little corner makes it feel smaller.
You walk back over to him, he’s more than happy with your choice. “There, see. It's perfect”
He takes your hand and leads you out of the living room, the rest of the house feels cold compared to the small amount of love that lives in the living room. He leads you to the kitchen pouring you both a glass of water.
“So that’s why you wanted to bring me here?” you question as you take a sip of water.
Eric nods “I noticed I hadn’t shared much with you yet. It’s the best I can do for now” you smile so much it reaches your eyes. You aren’t looking for perfection. Just someone willing to try.
“What are you smiling at?” you could ask him the same question. Instead of answering you leaned up to kiss him, your glass of water discarded on the counter alongside his.
His lips are soft against yours and you can taste the chocolate on him. It’s intoxicating to say the least. His hand snakes around your shaped waist keeping you close, your hands land on his chest, toned and a little tense under your warm touch. It grows heated fast and neither of you are complaining. His large hands begin to trail down to your ass holding you firmly, you can feel his hard cock poking into your stomach.
Eric breaks away first, his chest heaving, lips a darker shade of pink and wet. God he looks fucking beautiful. “Bedroom. Now.” He grunts. He grabs your shoulders and spins you around, directing you to his room, up the stairs behind you, as you walk down the hall he’s all over you and it’s making your knees weak. Kisses on your neck, his thumbs sweeping over your clothed nipples and drifting down to your clit, pressing his middle finger there then moving it away just as fast.
As you walk through the threshold of his room you don’t get a chance to notice any of the details surrounding his room. The sound of your zip being opened catches you off guard but you let the dress fall regardless. Eric spins you around again, eyes blown out beyond recognition and it’s insane how much he wants you right now.
He towers over you effortlessly, and it makes your breath hitch. Eric isn’t his usual submissive self and you can’t help but love how different he is. How intense it already feels even though he hasn’t started yet. You urge to reach out and touch him but something tells you not to.
he pushes your hair over your shoulders and it tickles your back a little. He looks at you innocent before him. He steps forward, his hand on your chin lifting your head to look him in the eye. “I’m in charge tonight, you’re going to listen to what I say. Tonight is about you, but if you disobey, I’ll make it about me, you got it?”
You nod “i’ve got it” you let out shakily. “Good, on the bed, bra off panties on. Legs spread for me” you obey quickly his voice overriding your thoughts.
Your bra falls to the floor easily while Eric is reaching into his bedside table pulling out items you can’t quite see yet. The blanket below you is freshly cold compared to your heated skin, your hair fans over the pillow. Eric has never seen a sight as pretty, your legs are wide open and he can see the patch on your panties.
Eric climbs on the bed trying to keep his face neutral. You’re the first girl that has been in his bed in a while, he’s glad he waited. He places a piece of rope around your wrists and binds you easily to the bed, tight enough to keep you in place but not enough to hurt you.
He kisses down your body. Wordlessly. Earnestly. His hands follow suit, you look down and you can see how hard he is, it presses against his trousers, you almost feel bad. Until he places a kiss over your clothed clit. Your hand immediately tries to reach his head, but you just end up pulling against the rope uselessly. Eric watches, satisfied with your reaction.
Your panties are soaked and he has a chance to revel in it, he never gets that at the office. He sniffs, kisses, licks. All the while you're gasping above him like he’s never touched you before. After what feels like a lifetime, he finally removes the cursed piece of clothing separating his tongue from your pussy.
Eric dives in like a man starved. Swirling his tongue effortlessly around your sensitive bud until you're bucking your hips into his face, chasing a high Eric has no intention of letting you reach yet. Whines leave your lips constantly and he’s so addicted to the sound. He knows you get close when the pitch gets higher and your legs try to close around his head. Not that he’s object to being suffocated between your thighs. But he pulls away. “You’re not cumming yet” his breath lands over your wet pussy making you feel crazy. You made a sound in protest but he doesn’t even react to it.
This feels like the Eric you first met, cold, taking what he wants. But somehow knowing what you need without having to ask. It has you more turned on than you’ve been in a long time. Eric knows it, your eyes having moved off him once, blown out and concreted on the one source you can get your pleasure from. Him.
Your body falls back onto the bed aching to be touched, your head lifts to watch Eric. He starts removing his clothes and it’s insane. Maybe because it's the first time you’ve ever seen him completely naked. Pieces of his suit almost always stay on in the office. But right now there’s nothing separating you and him. He takes up the space between your spread legs, you stare up at him completely towering over you, you feel helpless and it’s fucking incredible.
Eric’s eyes scan hungrily over your exposed body, you have the urge to cover up but with your wrists bound you don’t stand a chance. “Before I do anything else” he pauses, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “I wanted to ask if you’d be comfortable with this” between his thumb and index finger is a bullet vibrator, silver.
You look at it, then at him. “You ever tried something like this?” he begins dragging the cold stainless steel over your skin. From the dip in your neck, then down to your nipple where he circles over the sensitive bud gauging your reaction. Eric is pleased when you lean into it, your skin dimpling.
“I’ve used a wand before but not a bullet, I’m comfortable trying” you admit, a little embarrassed at your inexperience but excited to have a new one with Eric. he turns it on, still stimulating your nipples with it, just to get your body used to the sensation before he moves it lower. It feels a lot like your wand but far more precise. While you’re distracted, Eric struggles with one hand to roll on the condom he got out of the drawer.
Before you know it the tip of Eric’s cock is nudging at your entrance. He’s beyond desperate to be in you but tonight is about showing you that he is worthy of trust. In more ways than one. So he brings down the vibrator to your clit, watching intensely as your eyes snap shut at the relief of having your clit touched again.
The Vibration seems to rumble through you leaving you breathless and waiting for Eric to fuck you, you can feel yourself beginning to clench out of instinct. Eric knows it’s time when he can see your wetness drip onto his bed and you both let out a sigh of relief when he bottoms out rather fast. The dual stimulation has you completely in Eric’s hold, your hair begins clinging to your head as the sweat builds.
You try to focus on your breath as Eric rocks into you steadily, afraid that if he moves too fast he’ll cum before you do. Watching you pull against your restraints to get your hands on him isn’t helping him at all, so he leans down and captures your already sensitive nipple in his mouth. He fucking loves this, having you all spread out, feeling every sensation possible.
Eric stays steady and before you even realise it your orgasm creeps up, each breath in seems to pull you closer to it, when Eric speeds up a little along with the vibrator, you cum hard. Your legs try to close around him, but his free hand doesn’t allow it, he holds you in place until he cums himself dropping the vibrator from your clit, moaning your name in a way you’ve never heard before like you’ve ripped something from him. You open your eyes, they're hazy but you can make out your surroundings, so you focus on Eric.
His head rests on your breast, but you can see his jaw dropped, hips still jerking into you in the aftershock, his muscles tense and sweat dripping down his tattoos. His black hair is fucked. Like he’s been running his hand through it, cause it certainly wasn’t you. His shoulders drop and you know he’s done, your legs drop indicating the same.
“Shit, that was..” Eric mumbles out, lifting his head to look at you.
You laugh “yep that was…something?” you drop your head back onto the pillow, eyes drifting up to where your hands are bound. The skin looks a little red but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You wince when Eric pulls out and he mutters a sorry, like he’s done something wrong.
He crawls up the bed to untie you, kissing each wrist apologetically. His demeanor completely changed, from dominant and cold to Eric. Your body feels limp and exhausted but you still manage to get up on shaky legs, as Eric directs you to the bathroom.
“Was I too rough with you?” he questions as you lay in the bath on your own surrounded in bubbles.
You look at him, slow blink and then shake your head dismissively. “Eric it was intense, but wonderful”
“Are you sure?” He looks like a worried puppy and you soften at his concern.
“Yes boyfriend, I’m sure.” he leans down to kiss you. now comfortable, knowing you’re really okay. A smile spreads across his usually tense and serious face.
“Don’t get so cheeky, I’m still your boss and your my assistant” he tries to be stern but he wavers, you are much more than that now.
General tag list @thedevotchka @coryoslut @macynacym @kikibit @wiseyouthinfluencer @lunaskye999 @brightnessluvworld @skysgard @elyseesarchive @devilslittlehelper
summary: After having wet dreams of a peculiar alien entity in the form of a clown, you wander into the sewers and Pennywise fucks the daylights out of you. That's literally it. There's no plot here, none to be found.
word count: 1.9 K
w a r n i n g s: shameless, plotless SMUT, female reader, mentions of dead children, it pronouns for Pennywise/It, clussy mention baybeeee, no use of y/n, monster fucking, teratophilia, p in v (although it's a prehensile tentacle cock sooooo), tentacle fucking, come eating, brief mentions of wet dreams.
a/n: uhhhhh listen, this is my first pennywise fic despite being a registered clown fucker since 2017 (technically longer, but shhh). i'm not even going to explain myself here. you're either here for it and get it, or you don't. there's no mention of time periods so this can take place whenever you'd like. also ignore my abrupt ending i'm sick and can't be bothered. banners by @/veejiez @/dollywons and @/adornedwithlight!!
↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
Wind rustles through the leaves. A bird titters somewhere behind you.
The heady, buttery smell of popcorn drifts towards you.
Strange.
Very strange considering it's coming from the gaping, circular mouth of a sewer.
At first, it had started with dreams of floating. Dreams where every other thought dissipated and was replaced with the undulating, throbbing sensation of it. Then, those dreams turned… peculiar. A clown. Bells jingling. Distant, melodic calliope music that grew dissonant the longer you listened. Children singing a nursery rhyme that didn't make sense.
The really unsettling thing was that every time you woke up, you were soaked. You'd rub your legs together for relief, determined to restrain yourself from sliding your fingers between your cunt. But god, you wanted to.
So many Derry children had gone missing. Others made claims of a clown in a sewer. Surely, not your clown.
They were always playing near them — the sewers.
Probably the same sewers where you now stand, in a knee-length dress that flutters with the soft breeze. You take a deep breath of the familiar scent and take one step into the tunnel. Wet pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you step further inside. Amidst the popcorn, there's a distinct damp odor. It's colder without the sunlight.
Afraid of getting lost, you continue straight, avoiding any of the turns and glancing behind you every so often at the bright opening from whence you came.
The tunnel opens up into an expansive area. In the middle of it, a pile of… toys? Junk? Forgotten belongings that wash away into the sewers during the many rains — you pick out bicycle wheels and teddy bears with your eyes. It's impossibly tall, looming up above you.
This must be another dream.
And if it is…
Your footsteps echo as you curve around the mountain of discarded belongings. Something out of place.
A circus wagon with its side panel door open. From the prickling darkness, a tall, slender figure emerges. It smiles, revealing two buck teeth amidst other normal teeth. His eyes are bright blue, but seem to glow in the dim, blue lighting of the sewer. So, the children hadn't been lying. This wasn't some unfounded urban legend.
"Oh my god," you breathe. "It is you."
The thudding of boots thunders across the wooden floor of the caravan, echoing against the walls of the sewer as the clown takes a running leap, effortlessly landing a few inches from you. You lift your head, gazing into the abruptly warm, amber eyes that gaze back. Red lips part, revealing now sharp teeth, more teeth than any human should have. You blink, swallow. Tighten your fingers into a fist.
In any other situation, maybe you'd scream. Run away. But you don't. The clown sees this. After a few seconds, his mouth closes around the pointed, layered teeth. He shivers, and a jingling rings in your ears.
"Ouuh. Ooouh, you're not afraid… but…" The clown suddenly snuffles close to you, his red-tipped nose running along the length of your neck. "Something else."
Yes, you think. Something else.
You hinge slightly at the waist and gather the hem of your dress into your palm. You straighten, bringing the dress to your hip, and with your other hand, you reach into your cotton underwear and collect some of your warm, slick arousal on your fingertips.
You hold them out in front of you, like offering a feral dog some meat.
You can feel the clown bristle above you, elongating. Orange eyes flicker down to your fingers, to your legs. Back to your face. The expression on its face reads one thing — hungry. Big, long arms wrap around your torso, and you feel the jostling steps of the clown as it runs back towards the wagon, taking you with it. For a moment, it almost scares you, but as it always does in your feverish dreams, the arousal takes over when the creature in front of you presses your back against the wood panel of the wagon.
"What do you taste like…." Without warning, lithe, gloved fingers wrap around your wrist. Its crimson lips close around your fingers, the ones that are coated in your wetness. You can feel its mouth pulsing, tongue scrubbing at the pads to remove all traces. With a wet pop, it pulls your fingers from its mouth.
It smells you again. Every inch of you. Open-mouthed inhaling of the scents you give off while gloved hands trail behind its face. When it passes by your mouth, its hands on your neck, you catch its lips in a kiss.
The inside of the clown's mouth tastes unlike anything you've ever experienced. There's no remnants or hints of food, no personal notes, or anything normal. No, instead it's euphoric and dangerous and bright, like licking a battery. You dive back in for more, running your tongue along the other waiting muscle. A tongue that feels too long for its mouth. You moan into the cavern of the clown's throat, and a feral-sounding growl swallows yours.
Your groin presses up against Pennywise's. There's something there, but it's not what you're used to — not what you expected. Your hand drifts down between your bodies, almost apprehensively, to feel more. It takes a moment, digging underneath and between the silk confines of its costume, but eventually, you find it. What it is, you aren't sure. At first, it feels like you do, but larger, a longer slit that's wetter than you could ever get. The soft flesh is covered in a thick, viscous fluid that leaks from between the folds. Your finger trails along the slick edge curiously.
Then, without warning, something slimy and strong slithers from deep within, slithers out to meet your fingers. The tip of it curls around your finger like a serpent, writhing its way up the soft inner flesh of your palm, then your wrist. It's warm and has a strength that could pull your entire hand inside of it, if it wanted. You yank your hand away from between its legs, swallowing hard as you hear a retreating squelch. You don't dare look down.
"What… what are you?"
The once playful voice drops an octave, no longer high-pitched and melodic. The answer is serious and simple: "Everything."
The dull ache of fear presses a single sharp fingernail into your arousal. "No, what does that mean? What did I just touch?"
"Me," it insists plainly. "You want something else?" The question is eager, riddled with capability. You know what it means — a question of forms, of what it can do. It can take any form to frighten you, naturally. In this moment, however, it can take any form to fuck you, to please you.
You watch its eyes, glowing bright amber in the dim lighting, as they watch you. Finally, it speaks again. "You want to say yes… but you don't smell like you want something else... small human is hungry... curious…"
Your cunt aches. Beats hard. Whatever it is, it can smell your arousal as it leaks from you.
"I don't want to run… but even if I did, I can't run fast enough to get away from you."
The clown shakes its head quickly, excitedly.
"You want to play pretend?" you ask.
Another head shake. "Nnnooo… wasting time."
"Fine, then." You lower yourself to your knees, the grain of the old wood digging into the flesh. While maintaining eye contact with the creature, you lean back and drop your legs apart to reveal a pair of soaked underwear, your dress gathering at your waist. Its nostrils flare. The hungry gaze returns, and you notice a specific change in its stature. Pennywise mimics your previous position, on its knees, and shuffles close to you. Not close enough that your hips touch, however.
For a fleeting moment, you're confused.
Pennywise straightens up, almost proudly. From the slit, a glistening tendril slithers out with a wet sound, and you can't help but stare, watching intently as it grows, thickens. The tip of the deep red appendage snakes forward until it bumps into the cotton of your panties and glides upwards like a tongue, leaving a slick trail on the fabric. Then, suddenly, long fingers reach towards the fabric and rip it apart, tearing the shreds away from your legs before you have any time to protest. Not that you would, anyway.
As Pennywise towers over you, crawling its way up your body, the tentacle moves of its own free will, writhing and slithering between your legs. The slick sensation pulls a whimpering, pitiable moan from your lips, your eyes fluttering helplessly at the feeling. You throw your head back and flatten against the floor.
"Please," you beg.
"Pleaasse?" It echoes.
You nod, determined.
When it slips inside, driving its wriggly tendril forward, your jaw drops in a silent scream, pupils dilating. The feeling is all-consuming — it continues to penetrate your insides, writhing and stretching instinctively towards your deepest spots. Longer and thicker than any man you'd been with, it fills you in a way that leaves you breathless and sweating — scooting back to get away from it as the pressure intensifies.
Pennywise's arms are fast on your hips; however, it pulls you back sharply to its groin. The arms feel too long, too strong for its body, and sharp, black talons that have ripped forward from the tips of the white gloves dig into the soft flesh. It finds purchase, and tightens its grip. "Nooooo," It coos, almost mockingly. "You stay right here. You're not going anywheeeere!"
You mewl and clench your inner muscles hard. The creature above you snarls, and you feel the tendril twitch within you. It finds a rhythm with its thrusts. They're hard and meaningful, jolting your body backwards with each one. Internally, you can feel the tentacle as it moves, searches for your innermost spots, or curls back against the spongy flesh that makes you see stars.
Its thrusts are shallow, pulling you back and forth on the girthiest part of the tentacle while the rest of it curls and twitches inside you. You lift your head weakly, watching as it writhes. Above you, the clown is breathing heavily, snarling, and exhaling long breaths. Heavy-lidded, your eyes dart from between the two visuals repeatedly, fueling your release. It comes like a wave, crashing over you. Your toes curl, fingers tighten into fists. A single drop of sweat descends from your hairline, trailing down your neck.
"Fuck, oh my god…!" you cry.
With a sudden buck of its hips, the inhuman cock buries all the way inside you, pelvis pressed tightly against yours. You feel an alien, indescribable pulsing inside you, throbbing hard against your walls as it, too, orgasms. You feel full. And yet, the throbbing continues. The filling continues until it begins to leak out the sides with deep, wet squelches. Its release lasts longer than you think possible, and your body eventually goes limp in his grip, rocking helplessly back and forth with its erratic, slowing motions.
When the creature finally pulls itself away from you, drawing the tentacle back up into its body, a staggering amount of sticky, post-coital liquid seeps from between your legs — you can feel it dripping from your used cunt, which still throbs. It pools beneath you, slimy and warm.
"I can't believe you…"
You lift your head before continuing.
The clown is gone. Sucked back into the darkness from whence it came.
With a quivering breath, you find the torn scraps of your underwear and attempt to clean yourself up. The fabric absorbs little of the mess. You get to your knees first, then gingerly push yourself up onto your feet. Your legs are shaky and feel like they're made of rubber.
I'm sorry, but nothing will ever be funnier than that one bts of Bill Skarsgård on IT where they just put him into the fucking sewers and he's sitting there peeking out with his big ass forehead
