Requests are OPEN. Happy to work with vague prompts but if you want something specific, please leave a detailed request! I'm open to writing for Bill or any of his characters.
Authors Note: ALL my work is NSFW unless explicitly stated. I'm also on Ao3 - thedevotchka and won't be transferring over a couple of my longform fics from there, so please do check them out on Ao3.
NSFW Alphabet (Bill SkarsgÄrd Characters)
Characters: Roman Godfrey (Hemlock Grove), Eric Draven (The Crow), Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont (John Wick Chapter 4), Boy (Boy Kills World) Eddie Barrish (Locked), Mickey (Villains), Henry (Battlecreek)
Roman Godfrey x Reader (Hemlock Grove)
Ten Things I Hate About You
Summary: When Peter Rumancek meets a literal angel at his new school, he decides he'll do anything to have her for himself. There's only one problem; Letha doesn't date, kept under the thumb of her possessive cousin Roman. Lucky for Peter he has a cousin of his own, and you're willing to help him with his plans... for a price.
Summary: After a messy breakup you return to your childhood home of Hemlock Grove, hoping to fly under the radar and avoid the attention of your childhood bully, Roman Godfrey, whilst you get back on your feet.
Summary: Roman has no problem talking to girls. Fucking them too, more often than not. Anything to help him forget that he does not, and will not ever have you, his childhood best friend and the purest, sweetest, sexiest person heâs ever known. Youâve never thought about Roman like that until a drunken confession at a party opens your eyes.Â
The Guts Of You (Roman Godfrey x Peter Rumancek)
Summary: Peterâs going to leave. He shoulda left a long time ago, actually. He can feel the call of the open road scratching to get under his skin. The problem is that somethingâs already burrowed deeper, right into his bones. Peter takes every poisoned drop of devotion Roman pours into him, and he pretends itâs enough until it isnât.
Bonnie to my Clyde
Summary: Roman gets what he wants. Pretty much always. But around you heâs tongue-tied and he canât focus on anything else, so he pins you to a wall and holds your face and compels you to love him more than anything else in the world. And thatâs great, thatâs peachy. Until bodies start to pile up and Roman realizes your manufactured love for him has turned into something deadly.Â
Like A Spider
Summary: After learning about his reputation and rejecting his advances, youâre caught up in Roman Godfreyâs web of dark obsession. It starts with small things, seeing the cherry red of his jaguar passing on your way to work or the gym. The ghost of his tall silhouette ducking out of the coffee shop moments before you turn around. And itâs a little disconcerting, but you can ignore it. Then come the nightmares, the night terrors, the sore muscles and bruises and memory fog. And the worst part? The only person who seems to believe you is Roman.
Three's Company (Roman Godfrey x Reader x Eric Draven)
Summary: Roman loves three things. His car, his girlfriend, and getting so high he forgets heâs a Godfrey. When a routine pick-up turns into something more, he wonders whether heâs a man who can learn how to share.
Bloodsport
Summary: Roman Godfrey prides himself on being the biggest asshole in every room. It's sorta his thing. Until he meets you.
Port in a Storm
Summary: You come home early from a family vacation to surprise your boyfriend Roman and catch him in bed with the one person you'd never have suspected... his sister Annie.
The Housemaid
Summary: It was an ad in the paper. HELP WANTED, female preferred. Innocuous enough, probably placed by some older lady who needed someone to take over household chores. If youâd known then what you know now, you would never have set foot in the Godfrey mansion.
Thicker Than Water
Summary: In your short life, you had experienced two great tragedies. The first had been at twelve when your mother had died suddenly. Olivia Godfrey becoming your stepmother had been the second.
Playing the Field
Summary: You're Roman's best friend, and you're always there. That's it, that's how the world works. Roman knows you'll be waiting for him at lunch, and after school by his car. And if there's something else in the way you look at him sometimes, so what? He can pretend otherwise. Until a new kid shows up at school and you sit on the other side of the table at lunch and Roman's world collapses into a clusterfuck of uncertainty.
Attentive
Summary: Youâve been hiding from your boyfriend, feeling gross and not at all up for playing Romanâs usual games. He climbs into your bedroom window when youâre getting ready to go to sleep and helps relieve your cramps.
A Caged Bird
Summary: You are not her. You look nothing like her, but he doesnât seem to notice. Maybe he canât. He calls you by her name, and he touches you with a reverence reserved for an angel. Roman Godfrey keeps you in a gilded cage, his pretty bird, his lost Letha.
Dealing in Deaths
Summary: Itâs been a terrible week in a terrible year in a terrible⊠well, youâre not sure how long youâve been feeling so⊠terrible. Then you meet a fuckin vampire and everything gets about a million times⊠weirder.
A New Way to Submit
Summary: Mr. Godfrey, CEO needs to be put in his place, and you're the only one he trusts enough to do it.
Blades, blue blossom days
Summary: Being the only new student mid-way through the year? Bad. Blending in with an all-black wardrobe and a thousand cuts on your arms? Unlikely. Avoiding the school's resident sadist? Impossible.
Therapy
Summary: After Roman makes two boys kiss in the corridor for tormenting Shelley, heâs sent to the guidance counsellor to avoid being suspended. Youâre more interested in how than why, and Romanâs more into show than tell.
Eric Draven x Reader (The Crow 2024)
Valentines Day
Summary: It's your first week in rehab, nursing a broken heart, and it just so happens to be Valentine's Day.
Little Sparrow
Summary: You wake up tied to a chair with no memory of your abduction, only to come face to face with a monster.
Good Boy
Summary: Youâve always been good at reading people, and youâd figured out that Eric had a praise kink within about ten minutes of meeting him. Heâd handed you a beer, twisting the top off the bottle with ease, and youâd commented on how strong he was, and his pupils had dilated. Getting him on his knees had taken little more than a âgood boyâ and a gentle push.
Trauma Bonding
Summary: You and Eric don't get on. You're civil because you have to be, because a broken condom and a reckless decision made you the proud parents of the best kiddo in the world. You don't let yourself remember how much you loved him until he shows up on the wrong day of the week with bleary eyes and a broken heart.
The Ties That Bind us (Eric Draven x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: Thereâs a protocol to visiting him. Notify Eric that youâre going to enter, wait for him to slip into his restraints, and the light will go green. Youâve 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 isnât 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.Â
Blurred Lines (Eric Draven x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: Youâre not supposed to get this drunk, and usually you donât, but your boyfriend dumped you and your friends are bad influences and you canât get a cab. So you call your best friend to pick you up and you vent about how frustrated you are and then you notice his big, tattooed hands and the broad set of his shoulders and the way he licks his lips when he looks at you, and you decide some friendships might be worth ruining. Â
Eddie Barrish x Reader (Locked)
He's Good For It
Summary: Eddie Barrish can't afford to fix the alternator in his van, and the garage doesn't offer credit. You're a mechanic with nothing to do and offer to help him out. You know he's not good for the money, but there's another way he can use his smart fucking mouth to pay off his debt.
Insurance Plan
Summary: Eddie knows heâs fucked up when he tries his key in the door and finds the chain is on. Heâs desperate to get back inside your apartment and your pussy, and heâs not above manipulating you to get there. When he finds out youâre ovulating, he canât think about anything but filling you up and making it stick.
Vincent Bisset de Gramont x Reader (John Wick Chapter 4)
A Taste of Bitter
Summary: Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont stands atop the world. He has done so from the moment he came into it, spitting a silver spoon onto the ground and demanding the attention of every person in every room. He never truly stopped demanding it, and it has never been withheld. But when he decides what he wants is YOU, he'll learn that demanding does not always get him where he wants to be, but perhaps can lead to receiving precisely what he needs.
Simon x Reader (I rymden finns inga kÀnslor)
An Aversion to Chaos
Summary: Simon likes circles, Sam and space. He does not like triangles, chaos, or the woman living in the apartment below. When his brother invites you to dinner, Simon has to make the best of it. This is not something he is good at.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 COMPLETE
Satellites
Summary: Eight months into dating your boyfriend Simon, his brother has to go to a friendâs wedding out of town. Simon has never spent a night alone in the apartment, and he doesnât intend to start now. And although youâve been sleeping with him for a while, youâre about to learn that sleeping with Simon, in his room, in his bed, is a whole different level of intimacy.
Smarty Pants (Simon x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: Working on a science project with a partner is not your favourite thing, you prefer solving equations to socializing. But being paired with Simon, possibly the only person in the whole class who likes people less than you, is an exercise in insanity.Â
The Boy x Reader (Boy Kills World)
In Need of Mending
Summary: Youâve been feeding The Boy each week when he brings his cart of cabbages to market, hoping small acts of kindness brighten his difficult life just a little. But when he shows up outside your shop after closing, badly beaten, you decide to take him in, patch him up and make him feel better.
Resplendent (Boy x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: Youâve been going steady with the shamanâs apprentice for three glorious, secret months. Boy canât see you as often as heâd like, but youâre the brightest light heâs ever known and heâll do anything to keep you safe. Even if that means staying away from you sometimes. And you know itâs complicated, but you canât help but feel insecure. When you see him accept a dried flower from another girl at the market, all your frustrations pour out at once and you snap.
Henry Pearl x Reader (Battlecreek)
A Different Perspective
Summary: Henry sees the world through painting and makes sense of it through books. He canât get out of his head long enough to see you, so you come up with a creative way to help him focus.
Clark Olofsson x Reader (Clark)
The King of Everything
Summary: Clark and his friends break into your family's summer house and you catch them. Whilst Clark sends his boys back to the mainland he comes back for you.
Knocked Up, Knock Out (Clark Oloffson x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: After finally convincing the pretty bank teller to go out with him, Clark finds himself more interested in her wallflower personality than he means to. Which is why you dumping him after he fucks you is a real blow to his ego. Or it would be, if he cared about that sort of thing. When he robs the bank six months later and sees the very obvious swell of your belly, he is, for the first time in his life, speechless.Â
Willard Russell x Reader (The Devil All The Time)
Before and After (Willard Russell x Reader)
Summary: Heâs your older brothers friend before he goes to war. A little teasing, a lot flirty. And youâre not like... waiting to him to get back or anything. But you miss him a whole lot when heâs gone and you canât seem to get yourself going for any other boy that asks you. He comes home different. Quiet, haunted. When you overhear his momma say sheâs scared he wonât come through it, you make it your personal mission to bring him back to life by whatever means necessary.
Pennywise x Reader (It, Welcome to Derry)
The Shape Of Us
Summary: Pennywise has been alone for a very long time, and thatâs exactly how it should be. Itâs easy to forget the cage when the prey is abundant. Which is why you moving in, with your too-loud vibration and your insatiable appetite pisses Pennywise off. Big time.
Sacrament Is You (Pennywise x Reader) COMING SOON
 Summary: Ducking into the sewer is never a great idea in Derry, but thereâs a gang of nasty boys hot on your heels and you decide to take your chances. Running into the monstrous entity that haunts the town is less than ideal, until you discover itâs thirst for flesh mirrors your lust for revenge. If only you can keep itâs appetite from swallowing you whole.Â
Bill SkarsgÄrd x Reader (RPF)
The Blueprint
Summary: At your friend Eija's 21st birthday you come face to face with the first boy you ever kissed.
Lust and Loathing in Los Angeles
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Summary: You've landed your first real writing job, working with the pros. The problem? The lead actor, Bill SkarsgÄrd, seems to hate you.
Bait and Switch
PART 1
Summary: SFX makeup artist by day, dominatrix by night. Itâs whatever pays the bills frankly, and youâre good at compartmentalizing. That is until the bratty actor youâre working with finds your ad in the paper and books a session.
PART 2
Summary: Youâre not looking for a BDSM relationship. You donât need a daddy to keep you in line, and you prefer to take control in the bedroom too, thanks very much. Until a man steals your sandwich and takes you on the weirdest date of your life, that is.
After the Met
Summary: After accidentally snubbing a pretty reporter on the Met Gala red carpet, Bill gets a second chance at a first impression when he bumps into you outside the YSL afterparty.
Noise Complaint
Summary: You love your apartment. You love the city, and your job, and your crazy friends. You don't love your grouchy next door neighbor and all his goddamn whining.
Spun Sugar
Summary: You don't have the energy for love, and Bill doesn't have the time for commitment. Signing a contract and seeing the number in your bank account skyrocket is the best decision you ever made.
Summary: Youâre a makeup artist working on The Crow, painstakingly applying Bill SkarsgĂ„rdâs 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.
Babysitter (Bill SkarsgÄrd x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: Bill knows that skipping out of work early to get home when heâs hired a babysitter is kinda not the point. But youâre so pretty, and youâre sweet and youâre interested in him. And after a bad breakup and learning to navigate fatherhood on his own, he just really, really likes your company.
Nothing To Tell (Bill SkarsgÄrd x Reader) COMING SOON
Summary: FINALLY, a part II to The Blueprint. Youâre invited to attend Eijaâs parentâs anniversary party, and seeing Bill again has you reflecting on your first time.
this isnât really a full request, but if you write a sequel to the housemaid, would you be able to write a part where roman realizes he doesnât really have any interest in other women despite him initially saying he couldnât promise not to fuck other women? like maybe the reader suggests he have a mistress so she can get him off her back a lil and heâs like ânah itâs ok, you can have me all to yourself đ„°â. the housemaid was soooo good, i mustâve read it like 30 times and iâll keep coming back for more!
My One and Only (Roman Godfrey x Reader)
Summary: This is a part 2 to The Housemaid because everybody wanted one! Youâve been shackled to the Godfrey Mansion and its resident psychotic prince for at least two years. When a new girl starts at the house to help Anna, you wonder if Roman might take her as a mistress to give you a break from his insatiable appetite.
Word Count: 6961
Warnings: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, choking, oral sex (m & f!receiving), PiV sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, some blood/gore, mentions of pregnancy
MDNI, fic under the cut
There is a steady stream of warm cum leaking out from between your thighs, and you wriggle away from the slick patch soaking into the sheet beneath you as Roman blows perfectly round smoke rings into the air beside you.
âItâs going to take this time.â Roman mumbles, voice hoarse from the fresh smoke. âI got a good feeling about it.â
You hum non-committedly, focusing on keeping your breathing even and your heartrate slow. Heâll notice a skip or a stutter. He always does. âI hope so.â You add, because you know he wants you to say it.
But the little blister of pills sewn into the lining of a tote bag at the back of your closet says otherwise. A little blister of pills that youâd had to earn, showering Roman with affection and convincing him to let you go into town to buy him a surprise, so you could slip into the free clinic and get contraceptive pills without a prescription. It was abundantly clear to the workers that youâre being abused, but youâd given a fake name and a false address, so there wasnât anything they could do about it. And youâd done them a favour, actually. Because Roman would kill anyone who tried to take you away from him. Anyone who even looked at you.
The kid delivering papers had been sweet. Too young, too eager, and heâd stumble over his words as he handed you the paper each morning, his cheeks flushing beet-red as he rubbed his hand over the back of his too-long hair and flirted awkwardly. And it had been refreshing to just talk to someone who was sweet and nice and cute and who, yeah, maybe wanted to fuck you, but would never, ever force you to do it.
Heâd been tied to the dining room table by five o clock, and Roman had eaten his throat and made you sit and watch as he died. For five agonizing, awful minutes the kid had stared at you with true horror in his eyes as Roman had consumed him. And when heâd stopped, when the light had dulled out of the boyâs eyes, Roman had pulled you into his lap and made you lick the blood from his face and his neck whilst he fucked up into you. Youâd cried the whole time, and Roman had groaned about how all that sobbing just made you tighter for him. After that, youâd never, ever spoken to anyone who came to the house. Lesson fucking learned.
Roman rolls onto his side now, sucking hard on the end of his cigarette and then stubbing it out on the headboard. He knows you hate that, and he doesnât care. His fingers brush lightly through your damp hair. âMotherâs getting⊠fractious.â
âWhat does that mean?â
Roman smiles softly. âTwo years. Weâve had two years, no baby. Sheâs not all that patient.â
âOh.â Youâd known this was coming. It had to be, considering your purpose had always been to produce Godfrey heirs. But it still hits like a bullet in your gut, even as Romanâs fingers caress against your cheek softly.
âIâm holding her off, for now. But we gotta get you pregnant, baby. If we donâtâŠâ
He doesnât need to finish the threat. If you donât get pregnant, Olivia Godfrey will have you replaced. And the severance package here is lethal. Roman wriggles closer, the awkward gesture jarringly boyish, before he slips his fingers between your legs and pushes through the slick mess of your folds to pump two fingers into you. âFilled you up good, didnât I?â He murmurs, eyes glazing over with the promise of a second round.
You nod, hooking your leg over Romanâs thigh obediently, and he rolls you onto your back as he pushes his cock into you. The stretch is familiar and mostly pleasant after so many times. Because Roman Godfrey has been true to his word, and his appetite for you is never-ending. Heâs fucked you in one way or another every single day, often multiple times a day. He really, truly never seems to get bored of it. Youâll be watering plants in the greenhouse and heâll push you over the potting table to rut into you from behind, a hand on your neck to keep your face pressed to the soil-stained wood as he snaps his hips viciously against your ass. Or heâll be bored during dinner, bored of listening to his mother talk about shareholders and stock prices, and heâll just slide under the table and push your legs apart to suck hard at your clit until youâre whimpering into your salad. And Olivia would just keep on talking, her face barely betraying her annoyance at her sonâs lack of control.
And now youâre faced with a terrible choice, and itâs that youâre thinking about when Romanâs fingers push into your mouth and probe down your throat, making you gag. âEyes on me, baby,â he spits, balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you.
You force yourself to focus on his face, on the blush flooding his cheeks and the way he bites his bottom lip when heâs really blissed out. Itâs still sick, how beautiful you find him despite the fact that heâs a genuine monster. But you canât help it, he is beautiful.
âYouâre so fucking wet,â he moans, and you donât remind him that all that wet is his own release. Instead you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down to your neck. Not because you like it, but because heâll finish so much faster with your blood in his mouth. Roman whimpers as he bites down, parting your flesh and prodding his tongue against the sensitive ruin of your skin as his cock drives into you over and over. Your thighs scream in protest at being forced into this position for the best part of three hours, and you want to sleep so badly you could cry.
âWant you, Roman,â you whine, digging your nails against his scalp hard enough to hurt. âWant you to fill me up.â
Roman moans low and throaty against your skin, and you feel the twitching of his cock moments before he releases inside you. Your insides are so bruised and full that it burns, but you pretend it doesnât as you moan and clench around him. Putting on a show. It was the only way to get through the week or so around ovulation. You dreaded its arrival each month, the little block on the calendar in Romanâs room with a black heart sharpied onto each day. Five days of torture, of being so constantly full of his cock or his cum that you canât even breathe without it slicking into your underwear and reminding you just how fucked you are, in every sense of the word. But itâs the last day, and tomorrow heâll go back to taking you just once or twice a day.
Roman is working late, which is rare, and youâre approaching an hour on the most decadent bubble bath youâve ever taken. Roman buys you a lot of presents, usually flowers or candy or lingerie, but heâd gone through a phase of really liking luxury skincare and you had a closet full of bath sets and body scrubs and who knows what else. Youâve dumped half of them into the water, and itâs like marinating in expensive, slippery oil. Eventually the hot water runs out and youâre pruned, so you haul out of the tub and wrap yourself in a silk robe. You check the calendar over the dresser â two weeks until your ovulation week. Two more weeks of relative peace. And maybe youâre getting too comfortable, because you toss your bag onto the bed as you head out to the walk-in closet to pick some pjs, and when you come back Roman is perched on the edge of the mattress with your fucking birth control pills in his hand.
âYouâre supposed to be at work.â
This is the wrong thing to say, as Romanâs eyes narrow on you. âWanna tell me what the fuck this is?â
There is no way to lie your way out of it. The brand name and the words âoral contraceptiveâ are written all over the blister pack. âYou know what they are.â Your voice isnât as shaky as you thought it would be, even though youâre as scared of him now as you were the day you arrived. Because whilst Roman did have sweet moments, there was a darkness in him that simply couldnât be predicted and certainly couldnât be controlled. Itâs that darkness you see now, clouding in his eyes as his fist closes around the packet. âWhere did you get them? Did Anna or-â
âI bought them myself. From a place in town.â
Roman closes his eyes. âYou did this by yourself.â
âI just⊠Iâm not ready to have a baby. And itâs my body, so-â
Roman pushes off the bed and crosses the room in two terrifying strides, hooking a big hand around the back of your neck to drag your face up to look at him. âYour body? You wanna rethink that? Iâve been really fucking patient with you. Given you freedoms none of the other girls ever got, because I trusted you. Because I fucking love you. And this is how you repay me?â
âYou donât love me,â you whimper, feeling Romanâs fingers tighten in your hair. âThis isnât what love looks like, Roman.â
Romanâs eyes go black. His pupils expand so rapidly the green of his irises disappear completely, and his mouth curls into a lazy, awful smirk. âOh, Iâll fuckin show you what love looks like, sweetheart.â
He drags you to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress so hard that all the breath huffs out of you as your stomach makes contact with the surface. Your robe is wrenched up over your ass to bunch at your back, and you squeeze your eyes and try not to tense up as you wait for the rough intrusion of his cock. And wait. And wait.
âAre you gunna,â you try to turn over, and Romanâs hand comes down on your ass, an open-palmed smack that stings so bad your eyes prickle with tears.
âShut up.â He says, voice full of gravel. âYou have any idea what youâve put me through? Oliviaâs been trying to get rid of you for months. Iâve kept her away, promised her things I-â he cuts himself off to deliver another blistering smack to your ass, and you bite down on the duvet to stop yourself from crying out. âIâve had to make concessions to keep you. All cuz I thought-â another smack, so hard your flesh quivers and even the whoosh of air over your ass is enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes. âThought you were trying so hard to get pregnant. Making a fucking fool of me the whole time.â
You feel the impact of his hand on your flesh again, but the smack doesnât come. Instead Romanâs fingers slide down the crack of your ass, caressing against your asshole with manufactured gentleness.
âIâm sorry that I lied,â you whimper into the sheets. âJust, please.â
âNo, none of that. Youâre not sorry. You just got caught.â He spreads your cheeks with his index and middle fingers and you close your eyes at a wave of shame as he spits into your hole. âBut I am curious.â He pushes his middle finger into your ass, feeling his cock thicken at how tight and hot your ass is. âWhat was the plan? I mean, you had to know you couldnât stay if you couldnât give me a child.â
You hum. âI didnât⊠I just figured youâd kill me sooner or later, and itâd-ahh,â you break off with a groan as he pushes a second finger in beside the first, scissoring them against the tight resistance. âThen itâd be over.â
Romanâs fingers pull out of you with a stretching burn, and you feel the mattress shift as he climbs onto you and dips his head low to press his lips to your ear. âOh sweetheart, itâll never be over.â
He crawls away, and you wait for the intrusion, the one you know is going to hurt so much worse. And wait. And wait.
Youâre about to turn your head to beg him to just get it over with, when you feel the puff of air over your core, and then Romanâs tongue licking slowly up your bare slit. He hums appreciatively before his fingers curl around your thigh, pushing your legs further apart so he can lick you open and suck your clit into his mouth.
The moan you let out then isnât pretend. Roman is so, so good with his tongue, and he eats you out like he enjoys it, moaning and slurping and letting you drown him with your arousal. âFuck,â you moan, shifting on the mattress to rock back against his face.
He pulls away, flicking your clit with his tongue before you feel two fingers press against your entrance. âNo point fucking you tonight, not with that shit in your system.â
âIs this⊠a punishment?â You mumble, eyes losing focus as he curls his fingers against your g-spot and brushes his wet mouth over the back of your thigh.
âNo.â His teeth graze over the spot heâd just kissed, and you whimper. âIâm fuckin ecstatic about this. Thereâs nothing wrong with you. Donât have to put my babies in anyone else. Just gotta wait a couple weeks for that poison to be out of you, and youâll probably get pregnant right away. Thatâd get that fuckin bitch off my back.â
âIf you could-â Romanâs tongue plunges back between your folds, lapping at your clit, and your jaw goes slack as you melt into the mattress and heat coils low in your stomach. âFuck.â
He laughs quietly, sending a skitter of warm breath over your sensitive core, before sucking your clit into his mouth and pressing his teeth against it. His fingers slide deeper, fucking you open as he curls them repeatedly into your g-spot, and you see actual fucking stars as you cum, soaking his face and the sheets and moaning helplessly. Roman doesnât stop, lapping up your arousal like a man dying of thirst, pistoning his fingers in and out so fast your whole body is dragged back and forth against the bed.
âIâm⊠I f-f-finished,â you stammer, eyes rolling back at the fresh, painful sensations rolling through you. Roman doesnât seem to hear you as he carries on licking your clit and curling his fingers deep against your walls. âRomannnn,â you whine, âplease, stop.â
Roman doesnât stop, and you feel the curve of a smile against you as he drags his teeth over the hood of your clit before suctioning it back into his mouth. Oh. Oh no. You know whatâs happening now, and it sure as shit is a punishment. âNo, no.â You moan. âI canât again. Itâs too much, please.â Youâre sobbing now, your cunt throbbing with an ache that borders on actual pain as Romanâs tongue licks roughly through your folds and back up to your oversensitive, swollen clit.
He flutters his tongue against it, fingers twisting and curling inside you until you clench around the digits and your second orgasm is ripped out of you. Youâre a sweating, shaking mess by the time he pulls his fingers out, and you sag into the mattress as the heat of his mouth finally withdraws. The bed sinks beneath you as he crawls onto it, and you feel his fingers under your chin, wrenching your head up to look at him. His cock is an insistent press against his suit pants and his mouth is luridly pink and wet as he presses his still slick fingers to your lips.
You open your mouth, sucking your release off his fingers, and he smiles. âThere you go. Taste that? Thatâs love, sweetheart. Thatâs how much you love me. You ever feel like youâre forgetting,â he shoves his fingers further into your mouth, far enough to make you gag, and you swallow reflexively. âYou come find me and Iâll give you another lesson, just like this.â
You whimper as he withdraws his fingers, and can only watch with your neck jarred at a painful angle as Roman lifts his fingers to his own mouth and sucks your saliva from them.
You stare at the two pink lines with a mounting sense of horror. Romanâs in the shower, singing something under his breath, and the moment is so surreal that you feel like you might burst into hysterical laughter any second. One cycle. It had taken on the very first cycle after coming off the pill. Youâd heard from friends in the past that it took months for their periods to come back. Youâd thought youâd have more time. But no, those two little lines mock you from the plastic stick, and you have to brace your hands on the countertop to stop yourself from collapsing.
The water shuts off, and Romanâs wet arms wrap around your waist, soaking your back as he presses himself against you and nuzzles his nose against your neck. âYou shoulda joined me in the shower.â
âIâŠâ You tap a finger against the sink, not trusting your words.
Roman freezes completely, staring over your shoulder at the test. You expect heâs going to throw you up onto the counter and fuck you, or push you to your knees, or congratulate himself for being such a massive fucking stud. So the little sob that leaves him blindsides you completely, and you spin in his loose grip to make sure heâs not faking it. But no, thereâs a film of tears in his eyes and his bottom lip wobbles like he might cry for real. Itâs more terrifying than anything youâve ever seen from him.
âYouâre pregnant?â
âYes. I thought youâd be⊠happy.â
âI am.â He says quickly, and then his mouth curves up into a genuine, beautiful smile that leaves you feeling a little breathless. âIâm so happy. Holy shit.â He presses his lips to yours, and for once thereâs no heat behind the kiss. Itâs soft and gentle and full of affection, and your heart skips a beat as long-dormant butterflies kick up in your stomach. His hands remain on your waist, holding you close but not pushing or pawing at you, and you part your lips on instinct to let him graze his tongue softly against yours.
Roman breaks the kiss first, because heâs so overcome with how much he loves you that he thinks he might actually cry for real and thatâd be embarrassing.
âYour mom will be pleased, I guess.â
Romanâs smile softens. âSheâll leave us alone. And we can have so much more fun now the pressureâs off. If I donât have to worry about breeding you I can fuck you in the ass. Still thinking about how tight you were on my fingers that time.â
You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, your stomach dousing cold at how quickly heâs switched back to the Roman you know.
And maybe itâs temporary insanity, or maybe itâs thinking about how much thicker Romanâs cock is than his fingers that has you approaching Olivia Godfrey as she trims roses in the greenhouse.
âMrs Godfrey?â
âOlivia,â she tsks. âNow that youâre carrying my grandson.â
You dip your head in respectful acknowledgement even as your stomach churns with hatred. âI was hoping to talk to you about⊠that.â
She puts down her pruning shears and tilts her head to the side. âDo you need something? Do you feel well? Upir offspring can be⊠rambunctious. I was so dreadfully sick with Roman that I fantazised about ripping the little beast from my own womb on more than one occasion.â She says this with a smile, like itâs a joke.
âItâs not that. Itâs, uh, Roman. Iâd thought with the pregnancy heâd maybe⊠back off a little? But itâs the opposite.â
Olivia purses her lips. âHis appetite for flesh, for your flesh in particular. It really is a mystery to me.â
âYeah. I just think⊠itâs maybe not good for the baby. Sometimes after, Iâve been bleeding. Just a little bit. But he doesnât really do gentle and Iâm worried about the baby. Thatâs all.â
Oliviaâs eyes darken. âI wonât lose my grandson because he canât play nice with his toys. Leave it with me.â Youâre dismissed, but you donât feel in the least bit better about any of it as you trudge back to the main house. Romanâs sprawled on the couch inside, flicking through daytime TV, and he looks up when you enter. âWhere were you?â
âWith your mom. In the greenhouse. Helping with the roses.â
Roman scoffs. âYawn. You feeling okay? You look a little,â he gestures vaguely with his hands, and you shake your head.
âIâm fine. I feel fine.â
âGood.â His mouth splits into a lazy smirk. âYou can come here and suck my cock then.â
You drop to your knees with a tight smile, reaching for Romanâs zipper and pulling his cock out from the hole in the front of his boxers. Heâs still soft, and you shoot him an annoyed look. So greedy to demand when heâs not even fucking hard.
âPut it in.â
Your eyes narrow as you suck his soft cock into your mouth, and Roman sighs as his fingers lace into your hair and tickle against your scalp. âYeah,â he hums. âThatâll do it.â
He gets hard in your mouth, length thickening and throbbing as his tip pulses close to the back of your throat, and it isnât long before his fingers tighten in your hair and his hips begin to lift from the chair to fuck into your throat. âShit,â he groans, and you hollow your cheeks around his length and let the tip of his cock push into your throat as his release hits him. Itâs always easier to swallow his load when he shoots it directly down your throat, and spitting has never been an option with Roman.
Two weeks later, there is a suitcase by the front door. You stop at the foot of the steps, just looking at it. It isnât yours, not the scruffy leather held together with duct tape that youâd arrived with. And itâs not expensive enough to be Olivias or Romans. Maybe one of the other servants was retiring. It would be good if it was Anna, who had never warmed to you at all, not even a little bit. Which might have something to do with how often she had to clean your arousal or Romanâs residual release from various surfaces in the Godfrey Mansion, but was mostly to do with her being a raging bitch.
âWhatcha looking at?â Roman asks as he descends the steps behind you. He passes you and hooks an arm around your waist, dragging you against him. His playful smile drops at the sight of the suitcase. âWhose moving out?â
âMoving in.â Olivia chimes from the living room. âDarlings, I want you to meet Grace.â
Grace turns out to be a pretty, waifish girl with big eyes and a fragile, birdlike quality that makes you feel absurdly maternal. Romanâs hand tightens on your waist, and Olivia glares down at the point of contact. The realization hits you like a bullet to the gut. Olivia has procured Grace for Roman. To take his⊠appetite so you can focus on being pregnant. Itâs your fault that this little girl is here.
âPleasure to meet you, Master Godfrey.â She curtsies, already wearing the little maids uniform, the costume that Roman had enforced with you for the first couple of months of your enslavement. Romanâs noticed, his eyes rake down the girl with an interest that looks to Olivia like victory.
âDidnât know we were in the market for a new maid.â
âWell, you know how Anna is getting along in years,â Olivia says. âWe must think of her poor knees, scrubbing floors all day. Youâre good on your knees, arenât you?â She turns to Grace, who blinks, wide-eyed.
âOh, uh, yes. Of course.â
âShow him.â
âShe doesnât have to-â
Olivia shoots you a look, and you shut your mouth obediently.
Grace looks at you like you might save her, before she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and drops slowly to her knees. You hear the little hitch in Romanâs breathing, and dread douses your stomach with nauseous ice. You canât subject her to the same fate. You just canât.
You turn, pressing your lips to Romanâs shoulder, and he dips his head so you can whisper into his ear. âDonât even think about it, Roman. Youâre all mine.â
His grip on your waist tightens, fingers pressed boneless against your flesh.
âSheâll be a great help to Anna. That was thoughtful, mom. Now if youâll excuse us, my wife and I have some business to attend to.â
And you donât fight at all as Roman pushes you onto the bed and wriggles down between your thighs. Because you brought this on yourself, going to Olivia Godfrey for help like that wouldnât have severe fucking consequences.
âYou wonât go near that girl, will you?â You mumble as Roman drags your panties down your legs and tosses them over the side of the bed.
He licks over his bottom lip. âYou getting all possessive? The thought of me with another girl pisses you off?â
You hum non-committedly, and he chuckles. âYou donât have to worry about it. Since you got pregnant I want you twice as bad. I didnât think that was even possible.â
He brushes the leaking head of his cock through your folds just once before pushing inside you, and you sigh as he fills you completely in one thrust, bottoming out with a groan and dropping his head to your shoulder.
âYouâre always so wet, too.â He moans softly. âLike youâre turned on just being fucking pregnant.â
You fight the urge to roll your eyes at what a stupid, boy thing that is to say. Pregnancy had given you nausea, sore limbs and bloating. Nothing sexy about any of it. But Roman pulls back from you to press his forehead instead to yours, rubbing his nose against yours softly.
âLove you so much,â he moans, pressing his lips to yours quickly. âYouâre the best thing,â his hips snap faster against yours, and he props himself up on one elbow to reach down with his other hand and circle your clit slowly. âThe purest thing.â
You whimper at the dual sensation of his fingers on your clit and his cock grazing against your g-spot. This is so intimate, so close to being real that your chest aches. Because Roman Godfrey isnât capable of love, and yet this really was the most sincere imitation of it that he could create. And if you were stuck here forever, if you were going to have to raise innocent children in this house, youâd be better off accepting the version of love he could provide, for the sake of the life growing inside you if not for yourself.
You lift your legs to bracket your knees around his hips, drawing him deeper as you tilt your head up to kiss him. Roman makes a surprised little sound against your mouth.
âI love you too, Roman. Weâre gunna be a family, me and you and this baby. Just us. No more maids.â
And Roman nods, his eyes shining wet and bright and beautiful. âJust us. Forever.â When he cums you clench around him, milking every drop of his release into yourself as his fingers blur against your clit. You fall over the edge just moments later, a genuine, gentle orgasm rolling through you and filling you with delicious heat as you quiver around his cock.
He takes a long time to pull out, enjoying the look on your face as he withdraws an inch at a time and steals kisses as he goes. And for maybe the first time ever, youâre not counting down the moments until heâs gone. Because heâs being sweet, and tender, and attentive. And heâs looking at you like youâre the only thing in the world that matters, so heâs not thinking about putting his cock in the new maid. And thatâs a fucking kindness, the most selfless thing youâve ever done in your life.
Itâs the hormones. Or the proximity. Or late, late, late onset of Stockholm Syndrome. Because you canât be falling in love with Roman Godfrey. Itâs not possible to love the monster who has murdered and raped and kept you prisoner for years. It isnât fucking possible. And yetâŠ
There are fresh flowers, already cut and in a vase on the dining table when you go downstairs for breakfast. The stems are all uneven, and some of the flowers are crushed, but you smile at Roman as you dip your head to inhale the blooms.
âI cut them myself, sorry that theyâre shit.â
You freeze, staring at him like heâs just spoken a foreign language. âYou cut them?â
âAnd bought them. And Iâll keep them watered or whatever, I know you donât remember to do that.â
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you round the table and cup his cheek. He leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed and face softening into something sweet and boyish. âI love them. Thank you, Roman. That was really nice of you.â
And youâre not falling in love with Roman Godfrey, but when he presses a kiss to the now very swollen curve of your stomach, you feel flutterings like butterflies. Roman pulls back, eyes wide, and you realize itâs definitely not butterflies. Definitely not.
âDid you⊠was thatâŠ?â His eyes are so wide theyâre almost bulging out of his angular face, and you rub your hand over your stomach. âBaby is awake. I think they like the sound of your voice. Daddy.â
Roman beams at you, leaning in to kiss your stomach again. âShee-it. I mean, holy shit, right?â
âRight,â you laugh, carding your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles against your stomach.
You donât notice Olivia standing in the doorway, donât see the way her fingers curve around the doorframe like claws. You donât notice the little pile of plaster on the floor from the dig of her nails, or feel the tension winding tighter in the Upir woman as you start to flirt with Roman. And maybe you should have known. Should have felt the axe hovering above your head, and Romanâs.
It drops on a Thursday. Youâre 35 weeks pregnant, waddling more than anything else now, and everything just sucks. Roman wonât even fuck you anymore, says itâs weird now the baby is so big, and you should be grateful for the reprieve but youâre just not. Youâre agitated, and confused and ashamed of your mixed feelings towards Roman. Or ashamed at how unmixed your feelings are starting to be. But then you walk into the kitchen and step in a sticky, congealing puddle of blood. Nausea roils in your stomach and the baby kicks frantically and you pray thatâs not an Upir thing. You follow the shock of crimson around the counter, and find Roman crouched over a body, slurping messily as his hands paint red smudges over her skirt. Her little black skirt, with a ruffled edge. The skinny legs sticking out from under it. Oh no, no, no.
âRoman?â Your voice is a crack of sound, but his head snaps up and he turns. His face is a mess of gore, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. And heâs hard, erection pressing firmly against his jeans like killing this poor girl is an aphrodisiac. âOh, no.â
Roman wipes his bloody mouth with his blood hand, and you press your own fingers to your lips to suppress a scream or to stop yourself from vomiting, youâre not sure which.
âOkay, donât panic.â Roman says, rising to his feet with his hands out in front of him. He steps over the body, her legs twitching and her eyes blinking slowly because sheâs still alive, and you lose it then, spilling the contents of your stomach onto the floor.
âOh, baby,â Roman coos, rounding the island to scoop your hair back from your face. But then you see the blood sticking the strands of your hair together, and you shove him away with such force that he actually stumbles back.
âStay the fuck away from me.â You groan, doubling over and vomiting again.
âShit,â his voice is an octave higher than usual, and he rakes a hand back through his hair, the strands sticking up with congealing blood. âIs this a pregnancy thing? Are you like, having the baby?â
You roll your eyes at him, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth. âNo. Iâm just fucking⊠disgusted. What the fuck is this? You promised.â
Romanâs brows furrow, and he shakes his head. âI didnât⊠I didnât fuck her.â
You scoff. âBut you killed her. She didnât do anything wrong. And she was so young.â
âShe came onto me.â
Roman says this with a shrug, and you feel white hot rage curl in your chest. âLike fuck she did, you delusional piece of shit.â
Roman blinks at you, hurt crossing his face for a moment. âShe wouldnât take no for an answer. She tried to fucking take my pants off, look-â he points to the zipper of his jeans, half open. âI told her to back off, she didnât.â
âSheâs half your size. And youâre Upir.â You narrow your eyes at him. âAnd just when I was really starting to, fuck.â
Roman swallows. âWhen you were starting to what? To love me back?â
You close your eyes. âDoesnât matter. You canât help yourself. You canât help what you are.â
Romanâs face crumples for a moment, before smoothing into deadly, cruel indifference. âWho do you think you are to talk to me like that?â His voice is low and soft now, and you feel a skitter of fear travel up your spine. âI own you, remember? And I owned her, too. Youâre still alive because I want it that way. But youâre really starting to be a pain in my balls, you know?â
You press your lips into a hard line. âYou canât do anything to me whilst Iâm pregnant. Olivia wouldnât let you.â
Roman hums, crossing the distance between you slowly, languidly, like a predator who knows its prey is snared. âSheâd forgive me as long as I put a baby in another bitch or five. Nothing would save you if I wanted you dead, sweetheart.â
âButâŠâ your breath hitches. âBut you donât want me dead, do you? You love me.â
âYeah,â he sighs, dipping his head to press his mouth to yours. You taste the metal of the girlâs blood, and shiver. âAnd itâs been so good lately. Havenât had to correct you at all. I guess I thought youâd give me the fuckin benefit of the doubt. Hurts to be wrong.â
You lick over your bottom lip, regretting it immediately as a fresh swipe of blood coats your tongue.
âAnd for once, heâs telling the truth.â
You both jump at the sound of Oliviaâs voice, and Roman turns his glare on his mother as she steps over the blood and sighs. âReally, darling. I procure you a perfect little toy, and you break her before youâve even taken her out of the box.â
âI didnât want her.â Roman spits.
âI know,â Olivia says with an exasperated sigh. âBut I didnât think you capable of resisting your baser nature. I suppose I was right⊠about some of it.â
âShe fucking attacked me.â
Olivia tuts. âDramatic. I compelled her to get you into bed. To do whatever it took. Iâd assumed itâd take little more than her lifting her little skirt and offering it to you.â
Dread and revulsion fill you at the implication. Sheâd forced Grace to seduce Roman. Heâd told you the truth. It didnât make killing her any more redeemable, but a little flutter of hopefulness kindles in your stomach anyway.
âI told you.â Roman says slowly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. âI donât want anyone else anymore. Just her.â
Oliviaâs eyes slide from her son to you, and the corners pinch in a mean way that chills you.
âA pity she doesnât feel the same. She all but begged me to hire some little whore so youâd leave her alone. It must be a dreadful blow to ones ego to devote yourself so completely to a girl who doesnât care for you at all.â
Roman would have preferred his mother stab him with a kitchen knife. This is somehow worse than the contraceptives, because at least that had been a rejection of the pregnancy, not of him.
Roman spins on his heel, shoving past Olivia and out of the house without a backwards glance. He turns the key in the ignition of his jag and speeds away with shaking hands and a bloodstained face, leaving you alone with Olivia Godfrey and the corpse of your shared victim.
Roman doesnât come home until the sun is close to rising, and youâve been sitting up all night staring out the window like you could will him to return to you. Heâs a little worse for wear and he smells like whiskey, but he crawls onto the bed and drags you onto his lap and you let him because youâre so absurdly grateful that he came back.
âIâm sorry.â You whisper, and he lets out a shaky breath.
âFor what?â
âFor going to your mother.â
Roman hums. âJust that?â
You swallow, cupping his cheeks to lift his eyes to yours. âYes, just that. I went to her because you were being so rough with me all the time. And I felt so sick with the pregnancy, and you were making it worse with your selfish need to take all the time. So I shouldnât have gone to Olivia, but Iâm not sorry that I tried to stop you.â
Roman bites his lip. âWhen the girl arrived⊠you forbid me from touching her. Why?â
And you could damn yourself with the truth, or paint him a pretty lie. You look at the insecure, beautiful monster beneath you and feel the flutter of his baby in your stomach, and you choose the path that leads to the least bloodshed. âI was jealous. I wanted you to myself. I still do.â
The tension bleeds out of Roman slowly as he draws you close and cradles you against his chest. âI hoped that was it.â
âAnd I was just⊠shocked. When I saw you in the kitchen feeding off her.â
âYou thought I broke my promise?â
âNo, I⊠I donât know. Maybe that was it. I just hate seeing all that blood. And she was so young.â You feel your throat closing around a sob, and Roman shifts so he can cup your chin and press his lips to yours.
âI know, baby. Iâm sorry you had to see that in your condition, it wasnât right. Here.â He lifts you off his lap and lays you down, climbing over you to rest between your legs as he brackets your head with his hands on the mattress. âBut I need you to understand.â
His voice is still soft as he rolls his hips against yours, and you feel the twitching of his cock stirring to life against you. âIâm an Upir. I feed on people, thatâs just what I do.â
You hum in agreement, feeling pleasure throb in your clit and cloud your mind. âAnd our kids are probably gunna do it too. Thereâs gunna be bodies everywhere, like, forever.â
You groan as he slips a hand down to free his cock from his pants, gliding it against the dampening front of your underwear. âAnd the best I can offer you,â he whispers as he pushes your underwear aside and slaps his tip against your clit until you whine. âIs that you wonât have to clean up the mess.â
Your eyes roll back as he pushes inside you, the fat head of his cock stretching your sensitive walls as he sheathes himself inside you.
Your hands lift to claw at his back, and he brings his hand slowly up your body to press his palm to your throat. âBut,â he whispers as his hips begin to snap against yours, setting a brutal pace, âIf you ever talk to me like that again,â he tilts his hips, changing the angle as he presses harder against your throat to restrict your airflow, âIâll make you lick the blood off the goddamn floor.â
Your eyes roll back as his cock grazes against your g-spot, and you sob as an orgasm rips through you, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his as your vision explodes white with oxygen deprivation. He keeps choking you just barely as his cock thickens and twitches inside you, cumming with a low moan and coating your insides with his release.
He pulls out quickly, finally letting go of your throat, and you gasp loudly.
Roman cuts you off with the press of his tongue down your throat, and you kiss him back as best you can until he pulls away satisfied.
âYou understand?â He asks, licking over your lips and chasing the trails of tears you didnât know youâd cried.
âYes,â you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. âI understand.â Â
Okay soooo Iâm posting another Roman fic tonight. Iâm sorry for spamming you all with my stuff BUT Iâm away over the weekend so itâs now or Tuesday!
Hey girl, I have a little request, if possible. Can we have an Eddie + breeding kink one-shot fic, please? Thank you! đ
Insurance Plan (Eddie Barrish x Reader)
Summary: Eddie knows heâs fucked up when he tries his key in the door and finds the chain is on. Heâs desperate to get back inside your apartment and your pussy, and heâs not above manipulating you to get there. When he finds out youâre ovulating, he canât think about anything but filling you up and making it stick.
Eddie knows heâs fucked it up when he tries his key in the lock and finds youâve put the chain on the door. He presses his face to the little crack in the door and can see that whilst the apartment is dark, your bedroom light is on. Eddie musters up every ounce of contrition he can manage.
âBaby? Please can you let me in?â Heâs met with an ominous silence that has him chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. âPlease,â he tries again, voice soft as he rests his forehead against the wall beside your door. âI know Iâm late. Iâm really sorry, but it wasnât my fault, okay? The deliveries ran over and then my line manager was being an asshole about it. And you know I run pickups on Fridays. I came as soon as I could. Please. Baby, please let me in.â
You roll over in bed, facing away from the door and the soft pleading coming from the other side of it. Dinner sits cold on the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a film of grease coating everything. The smell makes you feel nauseous, but youâre not going to clean it up. You need to let it sit there rotting, to remind you why you put the fucking chain on the door. Because Eddie Barrish is no good. Heâd promised you a night in, said you could pick whatever fuckin chick-flick movie you wanted and heâd watch it all the way through. Swore he wouldnât try to fuck you until it was over no matter how bored he got. And heâd asked that you make fried chicken because he loves your recipe more than the goddamn Colonelâs.
Youâd bought a pretty lingerie set, and youâd spent all afternoon cooking and cleaning and setting up the perfect date night. But six had come and gone. Seven, eight. Youâd changed into PJs at nine, and shut off the lights at ten. And put the chain on the door at ten-fifteen, because the idea of him sneaking into bed after youâre asleep sends a curl of fury through your stomach. You check your phone now, gritting your teeth when you read the 01.27 illuminated on the screen. Past midnight, and no missed calls, no texts. Nothing at all to tell you he was going to be so late. So youâre not going to let him in, even though you know you wonât sleep at all tonight with the awful pit in your stomach that comes from fighting with him.
Eddie swallows hard into the silence. âIt⊠itâs too cold to sleep in the van tonight. Please.â His voice breaks on the last word and you close your eyes. You know youâre being manipulated but he sounds so fucking sad and it hurts your heart.
You sit up with a sigh, running your fingers through your mussed hair and smoothing the puffy circles from around your eyes. Youâll be damned if he can tell how much youâve been crying. He doesnât deserve to know. But you donât want him to freeze to death in his shitty van either, because however fucking inconvenient it is for you, youâre madly and hopelessly in love with Eddie Barrish.
His face is the picture of contrition when you push the door closed and open it wide. He leans against the doorjamb, hunched over like he can make himself smaller. âItâs late.â
Eddie licks his lips and you try very hard not to look at his mouth as his eyes scan over you. âI know. Iâm sorry. Work, and-â he leans into your space, pressing his cold lips to yours. âYou look so good by the way,â he mumbles, pulling back but stepping over the threshold. âFuck, youâre warm.â His hands land on your hips, icy fingers pushing up under your shirt to splay against your skin.
âI cooked.â
Eddie sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. âI know. I can smell it. Smells so fucking good, baby.â
âItâs ruined. Cold.â You fold your arms over your chest and feel your bottom lip jut out into a juvenile pout.
Eddieâs lips quirk up and down like heâs fighting a smile. âIâm fuckin starving.â
You let him slip past you and into the kitchen. He doesnât even bother turning on a light, climbing onto one of the barstools at your breakfast bar and grabbing a piece of chicken with his bare hands. You hover in the doorway, lip curling in mild disgust at the way he eats. Like heâs not sure where his next meal is coming from. Like heâs trying to consume all the evidence of the way heâs fucked up tonight.
âGood?â You ask quietly, and Eddie glances over his shoulder at you.
âThe best. Youâre the best.â
âWell, have as much as you want. Iâll pack some up for you to take away tomorrow too.â
He hums his agreement, but he doesnât turn around again.
âIâll go get some sheets to make up the couch.â
His shoulders tense at that, but he wisely says nothing as you slip away.
Eddie looks a bit like a kicked puppy when he slouches into the room and you point to the couch.
âItâs cold.â He whines, and you swallow hard. Your resolve is already slipping, because heâs shrugged out of his hoodie and his white tee is clinging to his stomach and pressing against the toned muscles of his biceps.
âWarmer than your van.â
His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he looks you up and down painfully slowly. âIâm too tall for the couch.â
You narrow your eyes at him. âYouâll live.â
He takes a step towards you, rising to his full height as he ducks under the doorway and shit. His throat bobs as he approaches, green eyes bright and clear as they flicker over your face. âItâd be a whole lot warmer if we were together.â His voice has dropped an octave, coming out of his throat as a low rumble, and Christ.
âIâm mad at you. Iâm so mad at you.â
Eddie nods, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth. Heâs playing dirty and you regret ever telling him how much his mouth turned you on as he weaponizes it. âI know. And Iâm sorry. So sorry.â He closes the gap between you, lifting a hand to your jaw and tilt your face up to meet his. âLet me make it up to you.â
Heat pools low in your abdomen and arousal slicks in your underwear, and you groan. âYouâre a manipulative little shit, Eddie Barrish.â
He hums as he brushes his lips against yours. âIâm not smart enough to manipulate you, baby. Just love you.â
And you sigh as his hands curve around you to cup your ass and squeeze. He moans softly, dragging you closer so he can slot his thigh between your legs and press your core down onto his jeans.
âYou canât just fuck your way out of it every time you fuck up,â you whisper, but your hips have started to rock back and forth against his thigh, desperation building with the tension zinging through you.
âI know,â he coos, pressing his mouth to yours over and over. âNot tryin to get out of it.â His lips trail slick kisses down your jaw and he sucks a sensitive spot on your neck, pressing his teeth against the flesh. âJust want you so bad baby.â
âFuck,â you sigh, threading the fingers of one hand into his scruffy blonde hair and tugging him away from your throat. âCome on, then.â
He doesnât completely let go of you as you make your way down the hall to your bedroom, like heâs afraid if you get out from under his touch you might come to your senses and send him back to the couch. Which, to be fair, you probably would. Because youâre pissed off every time you look at his stupid, beautiful face. And you can still smell the ruined dinner, and your expensive pretty lingerie is in a bag by your bedroom door because it makes your eyes water to look at it. You sit carefully on the edge of the bed and Eddie folds infront of you, dropping to his knees and looking up at you with his big, sad eyes. Playing fucking dirty, because he knows what that does to you, too.
âI love you,â he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your knee. âThank you for letting me in.â
You swallow, parting your legs so he can wriggle closer and bump the sharp tip of his nose up the expanse of your inner thigh. âOnly cuz itâs freezing.â
Eddie hums, mouthing at your flesh as he works his way towards your soaked center. âLove you so much,â he mumbles, sucking at your wetness through the thin barrier of your PJ pants. âWanna show you.â
Your eyes roll back as you lift your hips, and Eddieâs fingers are in the waistband of your pants and dragging them down before you can really think about it. He wastes no time at all, tongue pressing flat to your slit as he wriggles it inside to taste your slick. He moans against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core and your clit throbs. âYou taste so fuckin good,â he whispers, dipping his head to poke his tongue inside you before mouthing back up to suction your clit into his mouth. You feel the brush of his fingertips at your entrance and you suck in a breath as he pushes his middle and ring fingers inside you.
âYou canât be that mad at me, look at this,â he coos, smirking through the slick of your arousal on his face as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back into you with a wet sound.
You huff, feeling a blush stain your cheeks, and you try to pull away from his fingers. Itâs a half-hearted attempt admittedly, but Eddieâs free hand lifts to pin your hip to the mattress as he rises from his knees and crawls onto the bed. His fingers tug out of you and you miss them immediately, but your eyes roll back as he pushes the rough denim of his jean-clad thigh against your bare core as he climbs on top of you and kisses your own arousal into your mouth. âYouâre so fuckin wet for me.â He moans.
âIâm not fucking turned on, Eddie.â You grit out. âIâm ovulating. Itâs just like⊠a biological response.â Eddie freezes, his brain trying to catch up with your mouth as all his blood rushes south. Then he moves, his fingers dropping to circle your wrist and lift your hand above your head. It takes you a moment to realize what heâs going to do, but itâs too late. Heâs got your other hand as well, and he pins both of your wrists to the mattress with one big palm as his other snakes down your body to push your shirt up. You catch his eyes and watch the way his pupils expand, eating away at the pretty green of his eyes as his cock thickens to press against your hip. He groans at the sight of your bare tits, dipping to suck a nipple into his mouth as his hand pushes between your bodies to rub circles on your clit with his rough fingers. You let out an embarrassing involuntary whimper as your hips lift to meet his touch, even though the pressure on your wrists is starting to ache.
Eddie doesnât know heâs holding you too tightly. Heâs so hard now that he canât think straight. The only thought in his head is that he has to get inside you. He has to pump you so full of cum that youâll be leaking. He has to put a fucking baby in you so youâll never leave him. âShit, baby.â He groans around your nipple, letting his teeth drag lazily over the sensitive peak. âYou must be hurting so bad right now.â
You press your lips together to suppress a moan, because the maddening rubs of his fingers against your clit have brought you to the edge of your orgasm much too quickly. Youâre soaked, arousal pooling under your ass as you clench around nothing. And if you open your mouth you might beg him to put his fingers or his cock in you, just to feel full. And that would be bad, because youâre fucking angry with Eddie.
âIâm fine.â
âRight,â he huffs a laugh, fingers dropping from your clit to press against your entrance. âThat why youâre practically squirting already?â
You swallow hard, flexing your wrists under his hold. âLike I said, itâs a biological-â
âYeah,â he coos, shoving two fingers into you and curling them with deadly precision. âI heard you, baby.â
There is nothing but the wet in and out sound of Eddieâs fingers in your cunt and the quiet, desperate moans spilling from your lips. Eddie alternates between watching your face contort in pleasure and your pussy swallow his fingers and heâs so, so glad he came over tonight. Because one of the guys from his pool game had invited him to crash, and heâd almost agreed to it to avoid how pissed you were going to be. His cock is leaking enough to paint a dark patch of precum on the front of his jeans, and he figures heâs worked you up enough to be pretty sure youâre not going to kick him out if he sticks his cock in you.
He slows down, his fingers barely moving as they press lightly just inside you, and you whine.
âPlease,â you whisper.
âWhat do you want, baby? You gotta tell me. Wouldnât wanna do something you donât like when youâre so pissed at me, right?â
You roll your eyes in annoyance as you clench around his fingers, and Eddieâs smirk drops as his lips part around a soft groan.
âWant you to fuck me, you asshole.â
Eddie huffs a tiny laugh as he pulls his fingers from you and fumbles with the button and zipper on his jeans. It would be a lot easier with two hands, but seeing you with your wrists pinned above your head is so fucking hot heâll figure it out. He shuffles into position between your thighs and grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing the head through your folds and up to your clit before easing into you.
You moan, hips pushing down to drag him into the tight, wet heat of you, and Eddie almost sobs at the instant, perfect pressure around his cock. âGoddamn,â he moans. âGoddamn, baby. You always feel so fuckin good.â
You whine, lifting one leg to bracket around his hip and you dig your ankle into his ass. âMore.â
Eddieâs eyes roll back as he sinks in deeper, cock bumping hard against your walls as his hips snap against yours. âFuck. Iâm gunna fuck,â he moans, free hand grazing up your body to wrap lightly around your throat. âGunna fucking fill you up, baby. Gunna get you so fucking full of my cum.â
Your eyes roll back as your pussy flutters around his cock, because that sounds so good and so filthy, and at least youâre not- your brain kicks back in just enough to remind you that youâre ovulating, and Eddie Barrish fucking a creampie into you is about as bad an idea as heâs ever had.
âYou canât cum in me,â you whimper. âShit, Eddie. You gotta pull out. Or put a condom on.â
Eddieâs brows knit over his eyes, because what the fuck are you saying? Like thereâs any scenario here that doesnât end with his cum oozing out of you. No fucking way. So he ignores you, putting just enough pressure on your throat with the palm of his hand to make you gasp. You make a breathy little sound that vibrates against his hand, and Eddieâs cock twitches hard inside you at how hot it is.
âEddie,â you gasp. âPlease, you canât.â You push against his hand, wrists twisting against the mattress like you can break yourself free as a panicked tear spills from the corner of your eye and soaks into your hairline.
Eddie notices, and he stops. He pulls out of you slowly, hand leaving your throat to brush away the tear as he rises up your body to kiss you gently. âShhh, baby.â
He releases your wrists and you wince, air hissing through your teeth as you flex your sore muscles and wiggle your fingers to encourage blood to flow back into your hands.
Youâre preoccupied with this and the throbbing between your legs. You donât notice Eddie slipping his belt from his jeans. And then heâs so fast, looping the leather around your wrists and fastening you to your headboard. So impossibly fast.
âWait.â You swallow, pulling uselessly at your restraints. âWait, Eddie.â
âCanât, baby.â He mumbles, climbing back between your legs and wrapping his hands around the backs of your thighs to push your legs further apart. âI just gotta fucking breed you. I have to.â
You whimper as he fucks back into you, your arousal spilling out around his cock and soaking his balls as he buries himself in you. âShit,â you moan, eyes rolling back at the insane, overwhelming pleasure of his return. The head of his cock brushes against your g-spot and you cry out, clamping down on his cock.
âSee,â Eddie pants, snapping his hips fiercely against yours. âSee how much you want it?â
You whine a vague protest, but Eddie ignores it, leaning heavily on one elbow so he can push his other hand between your bodies to rub rough circles on your clit.
âNot inside,â you whisper.
âYeah, fucking inside.â He moans, dipping between your folds to collect your slick before smearing it back up over your clit. âIâm gunna fill you up and youâre gunna have my fucking babies.â
Your eyes roll back as fresh tears stream down your cheeks, and Eddie groans as he leans up to lick the salty trails from your face. âDonât cry. Youâll look so good all fat n full, wonât you?â
âI donât wannnnna,â you wail, your muscles tightening impossibly around his cock as you clamp down on him.
âShit,â Eddie whimpers, head dropping as his hips stutter against yours and he cums deep inside you, hot spurts of release coating your sensitive cervix. You feel it happen, feel the hot caress of his cum filling you up, and you can only moan as your own orgasm rips through you, pulsing against the rough callouses of Eddieâs fingertips as he rubs and circles and glides against your clit and you flutter erratically around his still-hard cock.
Youâre openly crying as you come down from it, and Eddie pulls out of you gently and reaches up to brush his lips over your face, peppering your sweaty, tear-stained skin with feather-light kisses.
âYou did so good for me, baby.â He murmurs, even as his fingers dip to collect his leaking cum and push it back into you.
You let out a shaky breath, turning your head to capture his mouth. âThat was⊠fuck, Eddie.â
He grins crookedly against your lips. âWant me to untie you?â
You hum, testing the strength of the leather around your wrists. âI could go another round.â
Eddie dips his head to nip at your neck, pressing his tongue over the bruise heâd sucked into your flesh earlier. âYâknow, I almost didnât show tonight. Thought youâd be so pissed at me you wouldnât wanna play.â
You feel a little chill douse some of the arousal in your stomach. âI mean, Iâm still pissed at you.â
Eddie nods against your skin, grazing the tip of his nose along your jaw. âI know, and youâre right to be. I really donât think I can fuck my way out of it. I promise Iâll do better.â
You sigh, wishing your hands were free so you could touch him. âWe can talk about it later. Right now, I donât wanna talk.â
âNo?â Thereâs a smile in his voice as he licks down your neck and over the swell of your breast. âWhat do you wanna do?â
You hum, lifting a leg to hook around his thigh. âWant you to breed me again, Eddie.â
Eddie groans, his cock stirring to life at your filthy words and the slick heat of your pussy against his stomach. âSo fucking hot when you say that. You have no idea. Canât wait to do it for real.â
You roll your eyes. You love Eddie Barrish, more than anything. But thereâs no way in hell youâd ever let him fuck you raw when youâre actually ovulating. The man isnât fit to be a father, not by a longshot. Maybe one day, but for now youâre happy to just pretend.
đŹ 1  đ 0  â€ïž 3 · Satellites (Simon x Reader) · heyyy, i saw this picture on twitter and it got me thinking⊠what do you think simon would be
heyyy, i saw this picture on twitter and it got me thinking⊠what do you think simon would be like sleeping next to the reader? would he ever actually do that? especially with all the touch stuff and everythingâŠ
just something that crossed my mind and now i canât stop thinking about it lmaoo
i already told you how much i loved this fic, itâs a masterpiece!đ
Satellites (Simon x Reader)Â
Summary: Eight months into dating your boyfriend Simon, his brother has to go to a friendâs wedding out of town. Simon has never spent a night alone in the apartment, and he doesnât intend to start now. And although youâve been sleeping with him for a while, youâre about to learn that sleeping with Simon, in his room, in his bed, is a whole different level of intimacy.Â
Word Count: 4191
Warnings: Soft-dom!reader, oral sex m!receiving, PiV unprotected sex
MDNI, fic under the cut
 âYou canât run even a minute over.â Sam says, tapping the edge of Simonâs activity chart. Â
âI know.â Â
âI mean it. The second it hits the hour, itâs his turn.âÂ
âI got it, Sam.â Â
âHeâll walk right in on you in the shower.âÂ
You shoot him a pointed look. âThat wouldnât bother me like it bothers you.â Â
A pretty pink blushes spreads over Samâs face. âRight.â He clears his throat. Despite the fact that youâve been dating his little brother for eight months, Sam still cant quite get his head around it. Because Simon is great, no question. Heâs fantastic, and thoughtful and kind in his own, unique way. But heâs unique. Sam had never thought his brother would find a person who could understand his needs and be with him without trying to fix him. But here you are, and you love Simon in a way that makes Samâs own heart ache with happiness. âYouâre going to be fine, arenât you?âÂ
You smile and lean in to nudge him lightly with your shoulder. âBetter than fine.â Â
You donât see your boyfriend hovering in the doorway, not at first. But Simon watches the way his brotherâs face softens as he looks at you, and he takes in the easy way you step forward to nudge against Samâs chest, and his own chest burns with an unwanted aching feeling. Â
âAlright. Iâll stop worrying. Out loud.â Â
You roll your eyes and catch sight of Simonâs tall frame in the hall. âOh hey.â Your smile is easy as you cross the room and tilt your head up to offer him your mouth. And Simon might be feeling weird, might have an ugly churning in his stomach, but heâs not going to pass up the opportunity to press his lips against yours as he ducks down to lock your mouth with his own. You sigh into his mouth, and that used to gross him out but now it sends a bolt of heat to Simonâs cock like youâve conditioned him to like it. Because you sigh like that when heâs fucking into you, and even the ghost of your breath in his mouth reminds him of how good it feels to bury himself inside you.
âAlright. Get a room, you two.â Sam says, but thereâs a smile on his face even as he pointedly doesnât look at his little brother. Simon ignores him, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face and tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss. French kissing, you called it. Simon still didnât love the slippery feeling of your tongue on his, but he loved the way you melted against him. And right now he liked that Sam could hear the wet sound of you kissing him. Like a reminder that youâre his, Simonâs. That Sam can have everything else, any other girl in the world. But he canât have you.
âWe have a room.â Simon says when you break the kiss, high spots of colour on your pretty cheeks as you look up at him with a glazed expression. âMy room. We are going to be staying in it tonight, Sam.â
Sam huffs a laugh. âYeah, yeah. I donât need to know the gory details. Donât do anything I wouldnât do.â
You laugh and Simon feels annoyed all over again. âThere isnât anything you wouldnât do. You do everything with everyone.â
The smile slips from Samâs face, and Simon knows he should feel bad about what he said. The look on your face tells him as much. But his blood is thrumming too hard under his skin and he feels hot and itchy all over.
âSimon,â you say softly. And Simon doesnât want you to be angry with him, and he doesnât want Sam to be angry with him either. And he doesnât want either of you to look at him like youâre looking at him now. So he slips past you and climbs into the shelter of his ship, pulling the hatch closed on quiet safety as he breathes hard and wraps his arms around his knees.
âWhat just happened?â You ask Sam in a whisper.
âI donât⊠Iâm not completely sure. Could you give us a minute?â
You donât want to leave when Simon needs you, but you have to concede that his brother knows him a whole lot better than you do, so you nod and go into the kitchen to make an anxious cup of tea. Just to have something to do with your hands, and to stop you from eavesdropping at the door.
ââEarth to Simon, come in Simon, over.â
Simon lifts his hand like heâs going to reply, but the words wonât come. He doesnât know how to explain that his blood is too hot.
âEarth to Simon, come in Simon, over.â
Simon swallows against a lump in his throat, lifting his walkie talkie with shaking fingers. âThis is Simon, over.â
âGround control requesting explanation for unplanned space exploration, over.â
âIâŠâ Simon cuts himself off.
âGround control suggesting itâs too soon for solo mission. Cancelling solo mission, over.â
And Simon feels a fresh surge of panic far worse than the cloying lump in his throat. He rises, the hatch of his ship clattering to the ground as he comes face to face with his brother. âNo.â
âNo?â
âNo, Sam. You have to go.â
âNo I donât.â Sam says softly. âNot if itâs too much.â
Simon frowns. âMark is getting married. You like Mark.â
âI like you more.â Sam teases. âItâs okay if youâre not ready for this.â
Simonâs eyes slip past his brother to the hallway and he hopes youâre not listening. âI am ready for it.â
âThen what was that about?â
Simon sighs. âI donât like the way you talk to her. My girlfriend.â
And of all the things Sam had been expecting, this wasnât even in the realm of possibilities. Because heâd been nothing but attentively, painfully nice to you, hadnât he?
âIâm nice to her. I donât⊠what do you mean?â
Simon feels a flash of heat jolt through him and he wonders if heâs blushing. âYouâre too nice to her. You touch her and you make her laugh and I donât like it. It makes me angry, Sam.â
And the pieces click for Sam as he looks at his brother. His wrecked little brother, who is feeling too many things and doesnât have the bandwidth to process them all. Heâs jealous.Â
âSimon.â He says softly. âI donât mean to make you angry. Sheâs a friend, thatâs all. But if it makes you uncomfortable, Iâll stay away from her from now on.â
And Simon is supposed to disagree and tell him that he can be friends with you, but he doesnât want to.
âYes. That would be good. Thank you.â
âAlright.â Sam suppresses a sigh. âIâll go and tell her youâre okay. Sheâs making tea I think.â
You look up when Sam enters the kitchen, a pained smile on his face.
âIs he okay?â
âYeah.â Sam clears his throat, crossing the kitchen to dip his head low to yours so he can talk quietly. âHeâs jealous. Of me and you.â
You blink at Sam. âThere is no me and you.â
Sam shrugs. âI know that and you know that. Simon sees us laughing or hugging or anything like that, and he thinks Iâm trying to steal you from him.â
And itâs stupid, but itâs Simon. âOh. Well, I guess we donât do that stuff anymore.â
Sam nods, feeling absurdly grateful that you see it that way. âI still like you a lot.â
You grin. âI like you too. But we both like Simon more, donât we?â
You watch your boyfriend run through the last sequence of his drumming practice. He has his headphones on and his eyes closed, and his expression is so pretty and serene that you have to fight the urge to climb over his drum kit and kiss his pretty mouth. He wouldnât appreciate the interruption, not when his routine is so important. So you perch on the edge of his bed and you watch quietly, memorizing the veiny flex of his hands on the sticks and the way he sucks his bottom lip gently into his mouth as he concentrates.
When heâs finished, his eyes open and his lips turn up into a small smile. âYou were listening to me?â
âYouâre getting so good.â
Simonâs smile splits into a grin then. âI am. Iâm getting approximately eight percent better each week.â
âOh, I can tell.â You smirk at him, and Simonâs face heats.
âDo you want to play cards?â
Your smirk softens at the way heâs trying to change the subject, and you nod. âCome here, then.â
Simon gets up from behind his drumkit, putting his headphones carefully back on their hook before sitting beside you on the bed. You turn to him, eyes dropping to his mouth for a moment. âCards?â
âWhat?â Simonâs voice is thick as his eyes fix to the movement of your lips.
âCards, Simon. We canât play without cards.â
Simon is competitive, and heâs very bad at losing. These are things youâd known already, but itâs a little annoying and a lot funny to watch him get heated and he berates you for getting things wrong.
âIâm bored of this, Simon.â
âBecause Iâm winning.â
âNo, it-â
âYes. Iâve won every game so far.â
âNo I mean, yes you have. But the game is boring. Can we play something else?â
Simon frowns. âSnap?â
âSnap.â You agree, taking the cards from his hands and shuffling the deck. âShall we make it more interesting?â
And thatâs how you end up sitting across from your boyfriend in just your bra and jeans, whilst Simon remains fully clothed minus his socks. Because he really is good at card games. But unfortunately for him, youâre not above playing dirty. You sigh, arching your spine slowly and pushing your breasts out as Simon slaps his hand down on another winning round. âSn-ap.â He stutters out the word as his eyes fix on your chest.
âOh, damn.â You mumble, reaching around to unclasp your bra and letting it drop into your lap. âYou win again, Simon.â
And Simonâs mind slows down as he drinks in every bare inch of you, the way your nipples harden in the cool air of the room, the soft curves of your breasts. âIâm⊠I win every game.â
âYeah, you do.â You coo, your voice low and melodic as you fix him with a hungry gaze.
No one in the history of the universe has had a faster fall from the top than Simon does during this game of strip-snap. He canât focus on the cards even as he himself puts them down, and his hands shake with every piece of clothing heâs forced to drop to the floor. It isnât long at all until heâs down to his boxers, and his erection strains against the front of them in a way that makes your mouth water.
âSnap,â you call, and Simonâs head drops to watch your fingers slap over the cards.
âI⊠I wasnât ready. That wasnât, I-â
âYou lost, Simon. Take them off.â
And you actually wonât make him, if he really doesnât want to. But his cheeks are flushed as he tugs on the bottoms of his boxers, his cock curving up towards his stomach as he lifts his ass and drops the last piece of his clothing onto the floor. Your eyes drop immediately, tongue darting over your bottom lip as you take in the sticky head of his cock throbbing against his abdomen.
âI win,â you say softly.
âYes.â Simon swallows thickly. âAnd what now?â
You slide off the bed, settling on your knees beside him, and he twists around to face you. âLegs open.â You say, tapping his knee. He unfolds his legs and drops them over the edge of the bed either side of you, baring his cock and the soft skin of his thighs to you.
âYou have such a pretty cock, you know that?â
Simon feels dizzy, blood pounding in his ears. He canât process your words, he canât make sense of anything you say when youâre so close he can feel the electricity of your skin charging against his. âYou know how much I like having you in my mouth, right?â
Simon nods then, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you lean in to press a kiss to his tip. âHow much I love being with you. How much I love you.â
Simon whines as you trace his slit with your tongue, pinned under the heavy weight of your gaze. Youâre not even touching him anywhere really, but Simon is laser-focused on the sharp point of your tongue flicking against the most sensitive part of him. âHow youâre the only one for me. I donât want anyone else, Simon. Even if it seems like Iâm too close to your brother, itâs just friends. Always.â
âSam told you.â Simon feels a hot sting of betrayal lance through him, but then you lick a stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip, and he groans.
âHe cares about you. And wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.â You suction your mouth over the leaking head of his cock and look up at Simon through your lashes, watching the way his face slackens and then contorts in pleasure as his hips lift off the bed.
âI- I donât like it.â
You release him with a wet pop, gripping around the base of his cock with your thumb and forefinger. âYou donât like this?â
Simon whines, hips lifting to nudge his tip against your mouth. âNo, I do. I feelâŠâ
You lick gently at his slit, tasting the salt of his precum.
âI feel s-sick, when youâre with him.â
You flatten your tongue against the underside of his sensitive head, dragging the delicate skin back and forth over his tip before pressing your lips to him in a gentle kiss.
âI only want you, Simon.â
Simon swallows. âI know. But I donât⊠always know that.â
âWell,â you say softly, âlet me convince you.â
Simonâs head drops back against the mattress as you sink his length into your throat, humming low around him until he hisses.
You let the head of his cock press into your throat for a moment, and Simon makes a strangled, almost pained sound in the back of his throat as his fingers curl into your hair and push your head against him so he can fuck up into your mouth.
Your gag reflex kicks in and you work hard to control it as your throat spasms around his cock.
âIâm sorry,â he whimpers, loosening his grip on your hair so you can pull back.
âSâokay,â you mumble, your lips numb from the rough back-and-forth drag of his length. âI wanna⊠can I ride you?â
Simon sucks in a breath. This has happened twice in the eight months youâve been together, and both times had left him feeling too overstimulated and trapped much too quickly. But your mouth is all swollen and red from his cock, and youâre looking at him with such unbridled want that he can only nod his head. âI⊠yes. Okay.â
You hum, pointing at his headboard. âWant you to get comfortable, Simon.â
He shuffles back, resting against the firm headboard and wincing as his cock brushes against his stomach. Simon is already feeling the itch under his skin, knows how much worse itâs going to get when youâre sitting on him, but he has to try. He has to at least try for you. And thatâs progress, because a few months ago he wouldnât have been able to do it. You crawl onto the bed and straddle his thighs, holding your weight up on your knees as you reach for his hand and press his fingers to your core. âSee how wet I am for you? All for you, yâknow?â
Simon swallows, his fingers brushing against the slick arousal and coming away sticky.
âYou know itâs all for you, donât you?â
And Simon realizes that you expect an answer even though his mouth doesnât work and his brain is shortcircuiting.
âYes.â He breathes out, and you reward him by lifting higher and positioning the fat, leaking head of his cock at your entrance. Simon can feel your muscles fluttering just barely, and his pulse thunders in his ears.
Simon is smart. He doesnât always catch tone or sarcasm or get inside jokes, but he can figure things out faster than most people. And heâs figuring out what you want from him now. âYou want me. Just me, Simon.â
You hum as you sink down on his cock, the thick length pulsing against the tight, wet heat of your body. âNever anyone else.â You whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his.
âJust me. You just wantâŠâ he breaks off, hands dropping to your hips to push you further down and settling your weight against him. And it should make him feel trapped and shaky, but with his hands controlling your motion, it doesnât. Simon can focus on the way you quiver around him and the drag of his tip against your walls as you rock back and forth.
âJust you. Not Sam,â you breathe, ânot anyone. Just you, Simon.â
Simon whimpers as you lean your weight onto your knees and lift half off his cock before dropping back down.
âI⊠canât,â he groans. And you know instinctively that heâs going to cum. After just a few moments of this.
âThatâs okay,â you whisper. âThatâs okay, Simon. You can cum inside me. I want you to.â
Simonâs eyes roll back and his head thumps against the headboard as he grinds his hips up to meet yours, not caring that your arousal is soaking his balls and staining his sheets.
He cums with a low moan of your name, and the sound is so pretty that you feel your own release winding tight. You clench your muscles around his cock and lean forward to drag your clit against his pelvis, groaning at the friction as you ride him through his high.
Simonâs hands lift to your hair, tangling in it to pull your face to his so he can pant harshly into your mouth and taste the heat of your lips as you shudder through your own orgasm, fluttering around his length and grinding your clit mindlessly against him.
You lean back but donât release his cock from inside you. âYou convinced, Simon?â
Simon can only stare at you, face flushed and feeling completely ruined. You raise an eyebrow, clenching lightly around his cock, and he winces.
âYes. Yes, Iâm convinced.â
Simonâs sitting on the edge of the bed when you return, rubbing a towel over your wet hair. âHey.â
He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, but his eyes reman fixed on his own knees as you approach. You step right up to him, your bare toes almost touching his socks, and still he doesnât look at you.
âSimon,â you say softly, as softly as you can. But he still doesnât look up, and you feel anxiety coil in your stomach. Had you taken things too far? Been too forceful with him? Heâd seemed into it, but-â
âHave I upset you?â
Simon does look up then, his brows knitting together over his eyes. âNo.â
âThen why are you so quiet?â
Simon shrugs, and you tentatively lift a hand to brush your fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch just a little. âI donât know how to sleep with you.â
You raise an eyebrow, letting your fingers trail over his jaw. âSure you do. We do it⊠all the time.â
Simonâs breathing hitches when your thumb brushes lightly over his bottom lip, and you glance down to watch as his cock starts to thicken and press against his boxers. âI mean sleep. In the same bed together.â
âOkay.â You release his jaw and sit beside him, and Simon is painfully, viscerally aware of how close you are and how good you smell and how youâre wearing a tiny tank top and your panties. âTalk me through it.â
Simon licks his lips, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat and trying to ignore the way his cock is twitching at the heat and proximity of you.
âThere are too many variables.â He says softly, his voice a little gravelly as he fights the urge to peel your shirt up so he can watch the rise and fall of your chest without the barrier.
âOkay.â Your own breathing hitches at the way heâs looking at you, like you can feel his eyes slipping underneath the fabric to trace over your bare curves. Itâs intense, the way Simon watches you. With the uninhibited freedom of a person who doesnât know he isnât supposed to stare. âExplain them, Simon.â
Simon hums. âWhat if you snore?â
You roll your eyes. âI donât snore.â
âBut what if you do? And it keeps me awake?â
âYou can wake me up and Iâll go sleep on the couch.â
Simon nods. âWhat if you need the bathroom in the night and canât get out of the bed? Youâll be sleeping on that side, against the wall.â
âIâll climb over you very carefully, Simon. And besides, Iâll use the bathroom before we go to sleep and I wonât need to get up in the night.â
âWhat if you roll onto my arm and trap me.â
You canât stop yourself from scoffing at that. âYou can wake me up if I trap you, Simon.â
âWhat if I get hard in my sleep? ThatâŠâ he clears his throat. âThat happens sometimes.â
You bite your lip and tilt your head to the side. âYou can wake me up for that, too.â
Simon whines as you lean in to kiss his cheek, his cock straining so hard against the front of his boxers that he wonders whether the button will simply pop off.
âM-morning breath,â he stammers, and you pull away from his face to glare at him. âSimon.â
âEven if we brush our teeth before we sleep, a natural decrease in saliva production will cause a breakdown of-â
âSimon.â You cut him off, pinching his chin lightly between your thumb and forefinger. âWe will get up right away and brush our teeth before anything else. I wonât kiss you or speak or get too close until weâre clean. Okay?â
Simon swallows, his eyes dropping to your mouth. âOkay.â
But he doesnât look okay, and you sigh as you lean away from him. Itâs an act of mercy, and Simon visibly relaxes when youâre not so close.
âWe can be close without touching, Simon.â
âIt⊠the bed is small.â
You glance back at his twin mattress. âYou know about satellites, right?â
Simonâs eyes lift to meet yours. âObviously. I know everything there is to know. I know more than you do.â
You smirk. âYeah I know you do, genius. Satellites regularly cross paths with each other in orbit, donât they?â
Simonâs mouth twists to the side. âYes. But their trajectories are planned. There arenât so many variables. And theyâre usually flying at completely different altitudes.â
âRight. And Space Forces all over the world track satellites to make sure there are no collisions, donât they?â
Simon nods.
âSo if Iâm getting too close or you need more space, you can just⊠course correct.â
Simon nods again, shuffling down the bed and settling his head against the pillow. You follow his lead, crawling to the far side and rolling onto your side to face him. âThis okay?â
Simon lies flat on his back, but he turns his head to look at you and feels his heartrate pick up at how pretty you look against his sheets. âThis is okay.â
âAnd youâll wake me up if you need anything. Even if you just need me to move.â
Simon swallows, nodding. âAnd youâll still⊠you wonât be angry with me if I do?â
You hum softly as if youâre considering it. âNo, I wonât be angry. And Iâll still love you. From way, way over here.â
Your lips quirk into a smile that makes Simonâs stomach flutter, and he turns his head the other way to switch off the lamp beside his bed.
You listen to the steady sounds of his breathing and feel the warmth radiating off his skin and close your eyes. Tonight had gone well, and you were pretty sure your boyfriend had been thoroughly reassured of how much you like him. But there was always room for the nagging concern of anxiety, because Simon could be pretty hard to read.
You jump slightly at the feeling of his fingers brushing against yours and turn your head, but heâs not looking at you. His eyes are closed as his pinkie finger hooks around yours, anchoring you to him in a tiny, meaningful way.
And you think heâs fallen asleep like that, until you hear him whisper âI love you,â into the dark.
Summary: Peterâs going to leave. He shoulda left a long time ago, actually. He can feel the call of the open road scratching to get under his skin. The problem is that somethings already burrowed deeper, right into his bones. Peter takes every poisoned drop of devotion Roman pours into him, and he pretends itâs enough until it isnât.
A/N: Thanks for the super enthusiastic request, @bohimianraspberry this was fun to write. I looooove Roman and Peter so much.
MDNI, fic below the cut
Peterâs thinking about the wind in his hair. And about whether corn dogs in Nebraska would taste different to the ones at Pennsylmania. Heâs thinking about the crunch of new dirt under his boots and the static crackle of strangers.
Thereâs a hum of sound that shoots up the length of his spine and Peter snaps his attention back to Romanâs narrowed green eyes as he stretches his pretty lips around Peterâs cock.
âSorry.â He mutters, lifting a hand to cup the back of Romanâs head and scratch his nails against the other boys scalp. Â Roman's eyes roll as he hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, dragging the sensitive head of Peterâs cock into his throat. Peterâs hips begin to lift as he thrusts into Romanâs mouth, drool dripping to coat his balls as Roman relaxes his throat and lets Peter take over. Lets him tangle his fingers in Romanâs perfectly styled hair and tug, and Roman looks up at him with doomed adoration.
Because theyâd been smoking a joint and talking about nothing when Peter had said it was nearly time to go. And Roman had shrugged like it meant nothing whilst his insides tore themselves into shreds and panic clawed up his throat. There had been no suggestion that Roman go with him, and a gypsy in the wind is like trying to hold water in your hands. Youâll never keep it all in one place and itâll leave a hell of a mess. So heâd slipped off the couch and onto his knees, nuzzling at Peterâs crotch and giving him the best fuck me eyes he could manage. And it had worked, because Peterâs cumming down his throat and caressing his cheeks and looking at just him.
âYouâre something else, Godfrey.â Peter sighs, running his thumb over Romanâs swollen lips as the taller boy pushes off from his knees and drops onto the couch beside him.
âYou should drink more water.â Roman says, because he canât tell Peter that he loves him and he loves sucking his cock and he wants him to stay in Hemlock Grove for the rest of his life.
Peter scoffs and plucks the half-smoked joint from the coffee table, lighting it and holding it between two fingers for Roman to suck on the end until the cherry fizzes brightly.
âYou staying over?â Peter asks casually, and Roman hums his agreement like his stomach isnât doing fucking somersaults at the easy way Peter asks him. Being in Peterâs home, in Peterâs bed, inside Peter is Romanâs favorite place in the world. Because Peter can take it. Peters seen every monstrous, selfish inch of Roman Godfrey and he opened his door and his arms and said âyeah, Iâll take the lotâ. And Roman knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that nobody else will ever be able to fucking do that.
Thinking about Peterâs tight ass and the way he groans when Roman fucks him has his cock stirring to life, and Peterâs eyes drop to the tightening at the front of Romanâs jeans with a smirk. âYou want me to take care of that?â So casual. So cool. Peter Rumancek is so endlessly fucking cool. Roman can only nod, dropping a palm to his own crotch and rubbing the heel of it against the denim.
Peter tucks a lock of hair behind his ear before he shuffles around on the couch so heâs facing Roman properly. He reaches over to push Romanâs hand away and unbuckles his belt, tugging his zipper down and tapping Romanâs waist to command him to lift his hips. Roman sucks in a breath as Peter pulls his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. Peter bites the corner of his lip, eyes darkening at the flushed, leaking head bobbing up to meet his palm. He leans over, connecting his eyes with Romanâs as he dribbles foamy spit onto Romanâs cock.
âShit.â Roman hisses at the feeling of the warm slick dripping down his length. âYouâre a fucking animal, Ruman-shiiit,â he groans as Peter wraps a hand around Romanâs cock and squeezes, jerking up and down with practiced, perfect strokes.
âYeah?â Peter teases with a grin, thumbing over the sensitive head of Romanâs cock to collect his precum. âYou wanna try that again?â
Romanâs mouth opens and closes, unable to form words at all as Peterâs hand becomes a slick blur against his cock. He canât even focus his eyes on Peter, though watching the concentration on his face as he works is one of Romanâs favorite things in the world. âC-close,â he stammers, voice breaking on the word as his balls pull tight and he feels the release building low in his stomach.
âDonât make a fuckin mess,â Peter coos,
âNo, no, no,â Roman whines, and he screws his eyes shut as he cums, shooting ropes of sticky release over Peterâs fist and his own shirt and decidedly making one hell of a fuckin mess.
âWhereâs your head?â Roman asks later, as they lie on the packed earth out back and look up at an impossible number of bright stars against the night sky.
Peterâs thinking about the wind in his hair. And about whether corn dogs in Nebraska would taste different to the ones at Pennsylmania. Heâs thinking about the crunch of new dirt under his boots and the static crackle of strangers. Heâs thinking about what will happen to the broken Upir boy beside him when he leaves.
âJust thinking.â He says absently, untangling his fingers from Romanâs where theyâve been lying sweaty and intwined between their bodies.
Roman feels his stomach churn in an ugly, uncomfortable way at the deliberately vague answer. âLooks like it hurts.â
Peter rolls his ankle to kick against Romanâs. âDonât be an asshole.â
Roman forces a laugh. âYou like that Iâm an asshole. Makes you look like less of a hipster gypsy cunt.â
Peterâs laugh is genuine as he kicks Roman again, hooking his foot under Romans ankle and tangling their feet together. But it isnât long before the silence settles over them again, the unspoken thing weighing on each boy differently.
âSchoolâs out in two weeks.â Peter says quietly. And Roman considers rolling him onto his stomach and fucking him in the ass, but this conversation is happening, now or later, so he says nothing.
âLooks like Iâm actually gunna graduate on time. Lindaâll throw a parade.â
âOlivia's probably gunna buy me like, a yacht or something.â
And Peter scoffs at this, because Roman Godfrey canât even fucking swim. âWell youâll need it to wine and dine all the pretty daughters of your new business partners.â Heâs teasing, but thereâs an edge to Peterâs words as a mean streak of jealousy curdles in his stomach.
Roman turns his head, hair splaying in gentle waves against the ground as he looks at the other boy.
âDonât leave.â
âDo you think they do that smoked pickle relish in Nebraska?â
Roman blinks at him. âWhat?â
âYou know, the stuff you get in those little plastic pots with a corndog at Pennsylmania. Do you think thatâs like, an amusement park thing or a Hemlock Grove thing?â
âWhat the fuck does-â
âCuz I never had it before coming here.â Peter steamrolls right over Roman, raising his voice to drown the other out. âI mean Iâve had pickle relish obviously. But never like that. I donât know how they do it. Do you know?â
Romanâs face scrunches up in the closest thing to ugly that he can be. âFuck are you talking about?â
âYouâre so fucking slow,â Peter spits, rocking up into a seated position and turning to look down at Roman. âSo fucking slow. Iâm just asking if that smoked goddamn relish is unique to here, or if you think they got it in Nebraska. Simple fuckin question, Godfrey.â
But it isnât, and Roman shuffles over and onto his knees, shoving Peter in his chest hard enough to knock the shorter man flat on his back. He doesnât stop there, climbing up his body and sitting heavily against his crotch as his hands fist in the front of Peterâs shirt and half drag him up. âGet to the fucking point, Peter.â
Peter swallows, his gaze dipping to the wet snarl of Romanâs mouth for a moment before daring to meet the piercing green of his eyes. âI might go to Nebraska.â
âYeah?â Roman asks, shaking him a little. Peter doesnât fight it, lets himself be jostled in Romanâs grip. âWhatâs in Nebraska?â
Peter makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. âI dunno, man. Space. Room to breathe.â
And Roman releases one clammy hand from Peterâs shirt to fist in his hair, dragging his face close enough to feel the heat of his breath. âSpace from me? Iâm suffocating you?â
Peter presses his lips to Romanâs without being invited to do so, and Roman almost sobs into his mouth at the lick of his tongue and the rough, chapped skin of Peterâs lips parting his own. âIt isnât about you,â Peter whispers against his mouth.
Roman feels heat and pain flare in his chest and he draws Peterâs lip between his teeth, biting down until the flesh pops and blood spills into his mouth. And Roman feels the thickening of Peterâs cock underneath him, and he smiles with sick vindication as he rocks his hips downwards, grinding his own cock against Peterâs until heâs dizzy with it. âThis not enough?â He pants, releasing Peterâs lip with a parting nip and licking the mess of blood and spit from the scruff of hair on Peterâs chin.
âItâs not about you, Roman.â Peter moans, bucking up into the friction Romanâs creating as he grinds down against him. âI just canât be⊠trapped. Pinned down.â
Roman pulls back, head tilting to the side. âOh no?â His lips curl into a sinful, devious smirk that has Peterâs cock twitching as Roman pushes his shoulders back against the hard ground. âIâll show you fucking pinned down.â
Peter gasps as Roman forces his legs apart and ruts harshly against him, the thick length of his cock grinding against Peterâs and sending bolts of heat through him. âFuck,â Peter groans, shoving his hands into the non-existent space between himself and Roman so he can tug his pants and boxers down to bunch under his ass.
Roman scoffs, but heâs pleased as he wraps a hand around Peterâs cock and squeezes roughly. âYou think anyone can top you like I can?â
And Peter shakes his head, eyes rolling back as Roman works his shaft with a strong grip. âSânot.. about you,â he gasps between shaky little breaths, and Roman releases his cock and leans back, dropping his other hand from the front of Peterâs shirt. Peter drops to the ground with a meaty thud, and Romanâs cock twitches and leaks at how heavy and pliant Peter is underneath him, watching with hooded eyes as Roman frees his own cock and wraps a hand around one of Peterâs ankles.
âFuckin feels like itâs about me.â Roman spits, leaning over Peter and stretching the back of his leg against his own shoulder as he pushes his fingers against Peterâs mouth. âSuck, or Iâm going in dry.â
And Roman wouldnât do that to him, but the threat sends a sick thrill through the both of them as Peter parts his lips and sucks Romanâs fingers wet and sloppy into his mouth. Roman has to really use some force to claim his fingers back and Peter releases him with a loud pop, licking the traces of Romanâs sweat from his lips as Roman drops back and reaches down to circle Peterâs asshole with two fingers.
âJust do it.â Peter grits out, baring down against the intrusion. Roman huffs as he pushes both fingers inside, his cock twitching at the tight fit as Peter tries to stretch around him.
âSmoked fuckin relish.â Roman says as he fucks his fingers in and out of Peter, spreading and curling them as he searches for Peterâs prostate.
And Peter wishes heâd kept his goddamn mouth shut, or better yet heâd been able to articulate the truth of the thing in a way that Roman would understand. But Roman could never understand, because he saw things as his and not his, and heâd put Peter in the his category the moment heâd set foot in Hemlock Grove.
Peterâs thinking about the fact that Roman Godfrey is the center of his own universe when Roman withdraws his fingers and spits onto Peterâs asshole, and Peter has less than a second to adjust before the fat, slippery head of Romanâs cock presses against his hole and he eases into the flexing tightness of Peterâs ass. âThink anyone else could,â Roman gasps as he bottoms out, pulling halfway out and thrusting back in as Peterâs muscles grip around him. âPut up with all your fuckin bullshit, Peter?â
Peter groans, reaching down to fist at his own cock, and Roman chokes out a laugh as his head drops to watch. âDesperate to cum already?â
Peter squeezes around Romanâs cock extra hard, enjoying the way Romanâs face goes slack as he whines in protest.
âItâs not about you.â Peter says again. âNot everything is.â
Roman ignores this, pummelling his cock into Peter as hard as he can and only half searching for his prostate now, because heâs hurt and heâs pissed off and he doesnât understand how to deal with any of it. He drops to his elbows, bracketing around Peterâs head as he buries his face against his neck and inhales the pine and musk scent of him. At this angle, the head of Romanâs cock drags against Peterâs prostate, and he moans loud and slutty as his fingers scramble against the dirt either side of him. He feels the sharp lance of Romanâs teeth slicing into his skin and his eyes fly open at the feeling as Romanâs mouth suctions around the wound and he pulls, drawing Peterâs blood from his veins.
âShit!â Peter gasps, voice squeaky with shock and lust and panic as his hands finally start to move again, fisting in Romanâs shirt and dragging him backwards.
But Roman is bigger and stronger than Peter, and he stays right where he is, teeth grinding Peterâs bloody flesh open so he can tongue-fuck a hole into his neck, and Romanâs cock feels like heaven against his prostate even as heâs all but consumed by the Upir fucking him. He feels the moment Roman cums, spurting hot and thick against his prostate with a pleasure that almost burns. And despite the blood loss and the panic and the primal rage at being taken like this, Peterâs neglected cock twitches as itâs dragged against the cotton of Romanâs shirt.
Roman pulls away from Peterâs neck finally at the spreading wet feeling, and he looks down to watch as Peterâs untouched cock spurts ropes of cum against his t-shirt. He looks back up, maybe to tell Peter that he shouldnât have been so messy, or to tell him that he loved that, but Peterâs face is waxy and greenish and heâs looking at Roman like he hates him.
âShit,â Roman says as he pulls out of Peter, wincing at the feeling of his muscles contracting around Romanâs softening cock. âShit.â
Peter shuffles back away and out from underneath him, shrugging out of his overshirt to wad the fabric into a ball and press it against his neck. âYou shouldnât have done that.â
Roman swallows hard, trying to ignore how full and good he feels with Peterâs blood churning through his veins. âI know. Shit, I know. Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to-â
âItâs fine.â
Roman stops, his heart thumping sickly. It isnât fine, he knows that. And Peter is supposed to give him shit for it, or punch him or something. He isnât supposed to shrug like it doesnât matter, like itâs nothing, like Roman means so little that he-
Roman canât even finish the thought. He canât or heâs pretty sure heâll die. âDonât leave.â
Peter runs his free hand through his hair, nausea churning in his guts at how weak he feels. Roman took too much. Much too fucking much. And yet however bad Peter might feel, Roman looks worse. Roman looks on the verge of hysteria, and Peter has to suppress the urge to go to him. âI canât stay, Roman.â
âWhy not?â Roman whines. He hates the way he sounds, so petulant and spoiled, but he canât help it. He is spoiled.
âItâs not in my nature. My blood, or whatever.â
Romanâs eyes drop to the rapidly staining shirt pressed to Peterâs neck, and he swallows. âI could⊠pay you. Anything you want.â
Peter feels sick for a whole different reason as he draws his knees carefully up to his chest, wincing a little at the feeling of Romanâs cum leaking out of him onto the ground but grateful that he hadnât pulled his pants up yet. He has so few pairs of clean boxers left.
âIt isnât about that.â
Roman sobs, and the sound is awful. It tears through Peter, digs right into his bones, into the deeply rooted places where Roman lives under his skin. âYou canât walk away from⊠this.â He pronounce this in the phonetically correct fashion, but somehow it still rhymes with us.
âI canât stay just for you.â His voice is quiet, but the words devastate Roman in a way that shakes the very foundations of his universe. And to add insult to injury, Peter pushes up to a stand and buttons his pants and goes inside his trailer, closing the door with Roman on the wrong side of it. Roman presses his knuckles against his mouth until his lips are bloodless and he wails against his own fingers.
Sleep doesnât come easy to Peter, and he shouldnât be surprised that itâs precisely as heâs finally slipping into a grateful, lucid coma that he feels the press of steel against his forehead. His eyes snap open, meeting the eery glowing green ones attached to Roman. He doesnât move so much as a muscle.
âItâs loaded.â Roman says quietly. âItâs loaded so donât you fuckin move, you piece of shit.â
Peter swallows. Heâs surprisingly calm, considering a volatile, heartbroken Upir has a loaded gun pressed to his forehead. This isnât the first time Peterâs had a gun on him, being a gypsy and having a penchant for petty theft has put him in similar situations before, but he knows to be careful anyway. Because Roman might not want him dead, but heâs hot-tempered and jumpy and scorned and thatâs a dangerous combination.
âYou come back to kill me?â
Roman hums, pressing the gun harder against his forehead, enough to leave a white circle in his skin. âYou scared?â
âNo.â
Roman scoffs, dragging the gun down Peterâs cheek and pressing the barrel to his closed lips. âSuck it.â
Peter doesnât say no, but he doesnât open his mouth.
Roman bares his teeth at Peter, pressing the metal harder against his lips. âPut it in your mouth and show me, you fuckin cocksucker.â
Peter lets his lips part just enough to wrap around the unyielding steel, and Romanâs eyes darken as he pushes the gun further into Peterâs mouth and pulls it out again. âYeah.â He whispers. âThere you go. See how easy that was? Youâre so easy.â
And Peter bites down hard on the barrel, even though it sends bolts of pain through his teeth and down into his jaw. He yanks his head backwards, snatching the gun from Romanâs loose grip, and he spits it onto the bed.
Roman puts his hands up in a mock-surrender. âCanât kill me with that, Peter.â
Peter shoves the gun off the mattress and lunges forward, fisting Romanâs shirt and dragging him onto the bed. âDonât wanna fucking kill you, Godfrey. Jesus Christ. Why is it all one or the other with you?â
âWhatâs in Nebraska?â
âWhat?â Peter asks, brows furrowing in genuine confusion.
Romanâs bottom lip wobbles as he pulls feebly at Peterâs hands in his shirt. âWhatâs in Nebraska thatâs so much better than here?â
And something clicks for Peter. He was a fucking idiot. Because Roman Godfrey loved him, and he shoulda been talking to him like he was a chick this whole time.
âBaby, you think Iâm leaving to be with someone else?â
Roman bristles a little at the pet name, but he swallows thickly and he stops struggling all the same. âFuck else.â He chokes out.
Peter sighs, pulling Roman close for a beat before shoving him roughly backwards. âRoll over.â
Roman freezes. âWhat?â
Peter sighs again, reaching for the loose drawstring of his pyjama pants. âGet on your stomach and put your ass in the air, Roman. Gunna show you how much I want you.â
Roman sobs again as he turns, flattening to the mattress and lifting his hips so Peter can pull his pants and boxers down. He leaves them tangled around the taller boys ankles as a way to keep him in place, and Roman squirms as Peterâs weight drops over him.
âWait,â Roman chokes out. âWait, Iâm notâŠâ
âI know,â Peter whispers, pressing two fingers between Romanâs ass cheeks and caressing the puckered skin. âGunna open you up for me.â
Peter leaves him long enough to reach back and grab lube from his nightstand, because unlike Roman he isnât a fucking sadist and he doesnât want to hurt anybody. He squirts a generous amount on his fingers and pushes Romanâs cheeks apart to squeeze some directly into his hole, and Roman huffs at the cold feeling.
âDonât be a baby.â
âFuck you.â Roman says, but heâs pressing his face against the sheets and lifting his ass hopefully.
Peter pushes a single finger into him, swirling it gently as he tests the resistance of Romanâs hole. Roman isnât a virgin in any sense of the word, but itâs been a while since heâs let anyone stick it to him. And heâd hoped that Peter would, sure. But it hadnât happened that way and itâs not like he was complaining about getting to fuck Rumancek in the ass, right?
Peter fucks his finger in and out gently, reaching down with his other hand to stroke Romanâs hardening cock where itâs pressed to the mattress. He adds a second finger, scissoring them apart to coax Romanâs muscles to relax, and he groans softly.
âYou ready for me?â
Roman turns his head to nod. âDonât go easy, Iâm not a fuckin girl.â
Peter mounts the taller boy, dipping his head to press a kiss to his shoulder before he eases himself into the tight, wet heat of Romanâs ass. âNo, youâre not.â
Fucking Roman Godfrey is akin to a religious experience, were Peter Rumancek inclined to believe in a higher power. Because his asshole sucks so greedily at Peterâs cock it feels like a pussy, like the hottest, tightest pussy heâs ever fucked. And Roman makes the sluttiest sounds, grinding his plump ass back against Peterâs cock and mewling like a distressed kitten. Itâs pathetic and itâs so hot Peter can barely think straight as he pins Romanâs arms to the bed and ruts against him. He knows the moment he finds Romanâs prostate, because Roman practically screams, fists balling in the sheets and wrenching them until they tear. âThere,â he wails. âPeter, there!â
Peter isnât about to change a fucking thing. His chest is slick and his nipples are on fire from the friction of rubbing against Romanâs back, but itâs all secondary to the blinding pleasure of Roman squeezing around his cock as he massages his tip against Romanâs prostate over and over and over.
He just about manages to keep his brain in his head long enough to push up on one arm and wrap his other hand around Romanâs throat, forcing his head up as he presses his palm hard enough to restrict airflow.
âThis what you needed from me?â Peter hisses into Romanâs ear, letting his lips brush against his skin. âNeeded me to fill you up and show you how much I fucking love you?â
Roman whimpers, trying to swallow against the pressure on his throat, but his ass still grinds mindlessly back. âIf there was ever a reason to stay in a place,â Peter groans, dropping his head to mouth kisses along Romanâs shoulder for a moment, âif I could stay still, itâd be here. Itâd be you, Roman.â
Roman cums then, cock squashed and aching against the mattress, and his muscles clamp down so tightly on Peterâs cock that his words turn into a string of garbled groans as he buries his own release against Romanâs prostate.
Romanâs basking in the glow of being filled up and weighed down and wanted, when Peterâs words sink in and Peter himself climbs off his body and sits up against the headboard. âYouâre still going?â
Peter shrugs. âEventually. Not tomorrow.â
Roman yanks his pants up and clambers off the bed to retrieve his gun. He shoves it into the back of his pants with a blush creeping up his cheeks, feeling fucking embarrassed for bringing it in the first place.
âYou gunna send me a postcard from Nebraska?â
Peterâs face splits into a grin thatâs so pretty Romanâs heart aches. âOf course,â he says with a shrug, slipping two cigarettes from the open packet beside his bed and lighting them both. âGotta let you know whether they have the fuckin smoked relish.â
Roman laughs too, taking an offered cigarette and drawing deeply before he drops onto the bed beside Peter and leans his head against the headboard. âSo you love me, huh?â
Peter takes another drag of nicotine, nodding his head and hoping his face isnât burning up to match the uneven stutter of his heart. âI love the guts of you, Godfrey.â
He looks like heâs on his way to put in a shift at a fuckin factory or something but DAMN I still would (thereâs no scenario where I would not, actually)
