Bill Skarsgard Imagine - Blog Posts

Video Games - Dad!Bill Skarsgard x Reader (part 2) (+18)

(The image above do not belong to me, all credits belong to their owner)

Masterlist

Author’s note:

Good evening everyone!! This story was based on two similar Anon requests, so I made them as a part 2 of my previous dad!Bill story. If you haven’t read the first part yet, you can find it in the masterlist above!

The requests:

And for the Anons who requested it, I hope it lives up to your expectations! (let me know if you do!)

Disclaimers: fluff, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink and some dirty talk. Again: this has explicit sexual content, you’ve been warned.

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

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

I hope you enjoy this second part and requests with Bill are always open, so if you have any ideas I’m all ears! (btw, I’m trying to come up with a jealous/possessive one so if you have any ideas or suggestions regarding that, they’re welcome!!)

Please feel free to leave a comment, like and/or reblog the story, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing ❤️❤️❤️

Tag list: @muchwita @witchofozz @wiseyouthinfluencer @malenoradgn @bloodykisserr @a-differentbrandof-beans 

End of Author’s Note

The snow hadn’t stopped falling since that Christmas Eve morning, blanketing the pine trees outside of the wide living room windows of Bill’s parents’ house. Inside, warmth wrapped around him like a second skin, the gentle crackle of the fire in the stone fireplace, the scent of roasted Christmas dishes, mulled wine and cinnamon lingering in the air.

He leaned against the doorway, quietly observing the soft buzz of his family gathered for the holiday. Y/N was kneeling by the low coffee table, feeding peeled pieces of apple to their son, who had his eyes trained on his mom, babbling something about Santa and the presents he’d bring them over night. 

Her sweater had slipped off one shoulder, hair was tied up in a makeshift ponytail and she was smiling wide, glowing in that way she always did when she was too busy to realize how gorgeous she looked.

Bill watched the curve of her lips, the way she gently wiped Leo’s chin so he wouldn’t drop and smudge his grandma’s rug, murmuring something that made their little boy giggle. The softness in her voice, the lightness in her movements, the patience and way she took care of their child, it undid him completely.

She was everything he could’ve ever dreamed of: his lover, best friend, partner and mother of their son, his entire universe wrapped in one breathtaking woman.

And watching her just being herself with their child made him want her bad.

He hadn’t known it was possible to fall even harder for his own wife, but here he was, wrecked by the simplest moment, watching her press a kiss on Leo’s hair as he proudly cheered himself for eating the whole apple like the good boy he was. Bill’s heart couldn’t stretch any fuller.

And still, he wanted more. More of her. More of this life. More of them.

He wanted to start it all over again, cradle her through the soft months of pregnancy, watch her glow like she always had, full and blooming with another piece of him growing inside her. The thought struck him hard, low in his gut, blurring everything else in the room.

God, he wanted it. Wanted her so badly at that moment, he could barely stand still. She was all softness and strength, all warmth and light, and he ached to wrap himself around her, press into her and not stop until she was trembling and filled. Until they were breathless and she was his in that deep, unshakable way that made his chest tighten and his cock twitch with need.

They’d talked about having another one eventually, gentle conversations behind closed doors, smiles exchanged in bed, wondering glances at baby clothes long outgrown. And now, with the firelight dancing against her skin and their son tucked safe in her lap, Bill was sure: it was time, and he could only hope she was also ready for that journey again.

Bill was still watching her when she looked up and caught him. Her gaze lingered for a beat too long, her smile curving knowingly as she tilted her head, brushing a hand over Leo’s hair.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear as he walked across the room to meet her.

He didn’t look away. “Can you blame me?”

She laughed under her breath, eyes sparkling. “You’ve got that look again.”

He raised a brow.

“The one that screams ‘I want to send you straight to the delivery room.’”

Bill choked on a laugh, glancing around to make sure no one else heard.

“Your eyes aren’t exactly subtle, baby,” she added, still grinning, though there was a blush creeping across her cheeks. “You keep looking at me like that and your mom’s gonna start planning another baby shower.”

“I’m just appreciating my wife,” he said innocently, stepping closer under the pretense of straightening Leo’s toy on the table. “Is that a crime?”

“Mmm... Depends on what you’re planning.”

They didn’t need to say more. It was already in the air between them, thick and unspoken.

Later, after dinner and hot cocoa passed around in mismatched mugs, Leo had curled up sleepily on the couch between Y/N and his aunt. Eija had scooped him into her lap, rocking him gently as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“He’s all tuckered out,” she whispered.

Y/N ran a gentle hand over her son’s hair. “Big night for a little elf.”

“I can keep him with me tonight,” Eija offered casually, shooting a quick glance toward her brother. “If that gives you guys a break.”

Bill didn’t miss the way she smirked a little, nor the way Y/N’s breath hitched beside him expectantly.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked.

“Of course. He’s already asleep, and I’ve missed having my little shadow.” Eija stood carefully with Leo against her shoulder, patting his back. “You two go rest. Or whatever.”

Bill met her eyes and gave her a thankful nod as reached for Y/N’s hand before they headed for the stairs, his grip firm, warm, and just a little too eager for having her all to himself.

They crept quietly up the stairs, the muffled warmth of laughter and dishes clinking drifting behind them as they slipped into their bedroom. Bill shut the door softly behind them, the latch clicking into place with a finality that made her pulse flutter a little.

She moved toward the bed first, tugging off her socks and tossing them in the corner, changing into one of his old t-shirts as she mumbled something about how she loved his mother’s choice of decor this year. Bill just watched her, leaning back against the door for a moment, taking her in like a man who’d waited all day for this.

“What?” she asked when she noticed him staring again, her brow raised with amusement.

He shrugged, crossing the room while he took his own sweater along with his shirt off. “Nothing. Just thinking how good you looked tonight.”

Y/N gave him a look. “You’ve been looking at me like that since before lunch.”

He slipped behind her, hands finding her waist as she pulled back the comforter. “Can’t help it. Watching you with our son…” he paused, nuzzling her neck as they crawled into the bed together and settled under the covers, her back to his chest, his arm wrapping around her the second she was within reach, “I just want to put another one in you.”

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh, one that caught in her throat as his hand splayed low across her belly.

“Subtle,” she murmured, but her tone was anything but disapproving.

He nuzzled behind her ear, voice lower now, rough with want. “You think I’m joking?”

She didn’t answer, not with words, just shifted her hips back against him and felt him, already thick and hard, pressed against her ass.

“I think Leo would love to have a baby sister… Plus everyone says I’m a girl dad, so it’s only fair we try for a little girl…”

His hand moved slowly, possessively, down from her waist, over the curve of her hip and then lower still, fingers slipping back up over the inside of her thigh beneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“No panties?” he asked, groaning into her skin when his fingers didn’t bump into any barriers and skimmed close to her core. 

“And not on the pill.”

Bill went completely still. Her words felt wrapped in velvet ribbon. Then his breath left him in a low, disbelieving groan, lips pressed against the back of her shoulder like a prayer.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice thick, lips brushing her skin as his hand flexed at her thigh and slid upward, grazing over her slick folds. His fingers dipped into her heat with a teasing slowness, dragging through her wetness like he needed to memorize how ready she already was. 

“You’re soaked. Is this for me?” He rolled his fingers over her clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a shiver from her spine. “Are you this wet thinking about me getting you pregnant again?”

She arched into his touch, a low sound catching in her throat. “You tell me.”

He groaned softly, mouth pressing hot and open kisses to her neck as he reached his other arms underneath her, slipping his hand under the borrowed t-shirt she wore to cup her breast. She was soft and full against his palm, nipple pebbling beneath his touch as he bunched the fabric up and out of the way. 

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he briefly drove his hand away from her pussy to pull his sweats down and free himself.

Then, he shifted closer, lining the thick head of his cock against her entrance, dragging it through her wetness but not pushing in yet.

“Bill,” she whispered, pressing back against him, greedy to have him stretch her.

“Shhh,” he murmured in her ear, guiding himself slowly between her folds, the head of his cock protruding between her legs at each stroke, and the sight of it when she looked down to watch it made her only want him more.

He rocked his hips forward just a little and lined his head on her entrance, not breaching her yet, just nudging her open with the weight of him, pressing his tip against her opening again and again. She whimpered, a soft, high sound that slipped out of her before she could stop it.

And just as he finally began to sink in, slowly and all the way inside, she moaned. It was sharp and sweet and utterly unfiltered, the kind of sound that lit something primal behind his eyes. His hand shot up fast to cover her mouth as he groaned into her neck.

“You want the whole house to hear how you sound when I’m putting a baby in you?” he rasped. “When I’m inside you, filling you deep just how you like it?”

She whimpered against his hand at his words, hips pressing back to take more of him in.

“That’s it,” he breathed, starting to move, even deeper now, slow and relentless. “That’s my girl. You take me so well. You were made for me.”

She moaned again, muffled by his hand, her body melting into the rhythm he gave her.

There was something unbearably erotic about the way their bodies fit together in the quiet dark, curled in the intimacy of that spooned embrace. Her back was pressed flush to his chest, the long, solid length of him molded against her every curve like he’d been made to hold her this way. 

His breath was hot at her neck, lips grazing the shell of her ear with every low grunt, one of his hands fondling her breast and the weight of his other arm wrapped tight around her middle made her feel both claimed and cherished. 

“Gonna feel so good when I cum inside you,” he whispered filth-soft against her ear.

He slipped the tips of his fingers into her mouth now, and she took them greedily, sucking them in with a quiet moan, tongue curling around them.

“Fuck, baby…” His hips stuttered, just for a beat. “You suck my fingers like that, I’m gonna lose it.”

She rocked back against him, meeting his movements, chasing every inch of him as he moved inside her with a deep, possessive rhythm. He pulled his fingers from her lips with a slick pop, then gripped her jaw, tilting her head back as he kissed her feverishly. 

Bill then eased his hand down her thigh, gripping and guiding her as he pulled out with a teasing drag, earning a frustrated whimper out of her due to the sudden emptiness.

“Get on your back, baby.”

She did as she was told without a word, flushed and pliant, eyes dazed with lust as she rolled beneath him. The moment he was between her legs, she spread them wider as he hovered above her. 

His cock rested heavy against her heat, still slick from her, and he looked down at her all sprawled out for him, like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

“You gonna be good for me?” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. “And keep it quiet while I fill you up the way you want?”

She nodded quickly, lips parting on a breathless whisper. “I’ll be good.”

Bill gave a low, rough laugh, kissing her passionately as he pushed back inside her in one long deep thrust that made her gasp, her nails dragging down his back as the position allowed him to go even deeper than before.

“Eyes on me,” he rasped, voice almost gone with restraint. “I want to see you.”

Y/N’s gaze locked on his, wide and raw with her love for him as her body surrendered to him completely. He started to move, each thrust dragging her closer to the edge as his cock hit that very perfect spot inside of her.

Her hands slipped up to cup his face, and the kiss they shared was a mix of heat and love and desperation, his tongue sweeping against hers in time with every thrust of his hips.

Bill slid one of his hands down between them, fingers grazing the dip just below her navel. He pressed his palm there firmly, like he could feel himself inside her.

“You feel that?” he whispered, forehead pressed to hers. “How deep I am? Right here, buried inside where no one else gets to be.”

She rolled her eyes as the pressure made everything tighter, sharper, more overwhelming. Each deep stroke sent a wave of pleasure crashing through her, intensified by the weight of his palm pressing down.

Y/N moaned into his mouth, unable to stop herself, the sensation so deep it bordered on unbearable. His name broke from her lips in a soft, desperate gasp, and he swallowed it whole, kissing her like he never wanted to let her go.

His hand then slid lower until his fingers found her clit, slick and swollen. He circled it lightly at first, as if savoring every twitch of her body beneath his, then with more pressure and more intent. 

The added sensation sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through her, her hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. Her breath hitched against his lips, her moan caught somewhere between a sob and a plea, and still, he didn’t stop, working her expertly, drawing her closer and closer to the edge with every stroke of his cock and every swirl of his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered into his mouth. “Please, Bill, just like that…”

“I won’t, baby” he promised, voice shaking as he felt her walls clenching around him. “I’m not stopping until I feel you cum on my cock. Until I know you’re mine… full of me.”

She bit back a moan, hands gripping the back of his neck as her body began to tremble beneath him. “God… I’m so close…”

“I know, honey, I know. I’ve got you.” He purred against her ear.

His hips snapped a little harder now and he couldn’t stop staring down at her all flushed, open, perfect, every bit of her his.

“Cum with me,” he growled, his thumb circling faster now. “I want you to cum when I do.”

Her back arched, a broken gasp leaving her lips as she tightened around him. “Yes, yes… Bill, I’m,”

“Now, sweetheart,” he groaned, burying himself to the hilt and looking deep into her eyes. “Let go for me.”

And she did, crying out his name in a choked whisper as her orgasm crashed over her, body trembling with every shockwave of it. Bill followed with a deep moan, hips grinding as he spilled inside her, riding their highs and holding her tight as if he could anchor them both to the moment.

They stayed like that, locked together, breathing hard, their hearts thudding in sync. He brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead and kissed her softly.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered with a dazed smile.

He chuckled, still inside her, eyes warm. “Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 7 (+18)

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

Good evening everyone, I hope you like this next part! It's very late here so I didn't proof read it, so I'm sorry if anything is off or misspelled.

WARNING: this chapter has SMUT! All the way through! So if you don't like it, skip it. You've been warned. Unprotected p in v. Oral (f! receiving).

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

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

Tags: @malenoradgn @muchwita @witchofozz @wiseyouthinfluencer @a-differentbrandof-beans @laniirackssss

Masterlist

End of Author’s note.

The ride to his place is a blur. Wind in her hair, his body solid in front of her, arms wrapped tightly around his waist like she’s afraid to let go now that she’s finally allowed herself to hold on.

They don’t speak. Not when he parks the bike. Not when she follows him upstairs, her heels echoing softly on the stairwell. And definitely not when he unlocks the door to a dim, barely-lit apartment and lets her step inside first.

It smells like him. Leather, smoke and something irresistibly masculine she can’t place, but feels like addiction in a bottle.

He tossed his keys onto the counter and the door clicked shut behind them.

Still, no words. Just that pull between them, thick and electric.

“You sure you wanna do this?” His voice was low and rough. “Last chance to make me stop.”

She turned to face him, her chest rising and falling fast, lipstick smudged from their kiss outside the club, her eyes wild and pupils blown wide.

“I think we’re a little past that question,” she replied with a sly smirk.

Eric was on her in a second, mouth crushing hers, hands everywhere. The kiss was intense, consuming, like he was starving for her. She met him with equal hunger, fingers running through his hair as they dove into each other’s mouths.

She pressed closer without thinking, her body moving on instinct alone, and when her hips brushed against his, a low, guttural growl rumbled from deep in his chest, the sound, filled with so much need, her knees nearly buckled. 

His hands clamped down on her waist, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp as she felt the barely-leashed tension vibrating from him through both of them, like a wire pulled tight and ready to snap.

His hands then slid down to her thighs and with one firm grip he lifted her up on his lap, causing her legs to wrap tight around his waist instinctively as her back hit the wall next to the door. 

She gasped into his mouth as his hips pressed into hers, already hard through his jeans, already needing more. 

Her gasp barely left her mouth before he kissed her again, even deeper, rougher. His hands roamed up the back of her thighs and under her skirt, squeezing, feeling, pulling her tighter against him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between them. 

She could feel him, hard and insistent through his jeans, pressing exactly where she needed him most. It was maddening, the friction, the heat, the way their bodies just fit even though they hadn’t really started yet.

His mouth tore from hers, trailing hot, desperate kisses along her jaw and down her neck, making her whimper as her head tipped back against the wall. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her throat making her shiver.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this,” he rasped against her skin, voice strained, like he was barely holding himself back. 

His hands slid up under her top, rough palms burning a path along her ribs until he found her breasts, squeezing just hard enough to make her moan softly, arching into him shamelessly as he teased and rolled her nipples between his fingers.

She clawed at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to see him, and he must have felt the same because he leaned back just enough to yank the fabric over his head and toss it somewhere behind him.

She barely registered when he carried her away, the apartment a blur around her, until he placed her onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter. 

Y/N sat there, breathing hard, hands clutching the counter’s edge for balance as she finally allowed herself to take a good look at him.

Her eyes raked over him greedily as he stood there, chest heaving, watching her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes, like he was giving her a moment to memorize him before he claimed her. 

The sculpted chest, the tattoos inked across hard muscle, the faint dusting of dark hair trailing down from his navel and disappearing beneath the low-slung jeans. Her palms slid up his stomach first, feeling the rigid abs tense under her touch, then higher, up the planes of his chest, then sweeping down his strong, veiny arms. The muscles in his forearms twitched subtly, like he was fighting the urge to grab her, to pin her down and devour her.

His jeans clung low on his hips, the sharp V of his lower abs pointing straight into the denim, like the devil himself had left a road map designed to ruin her.

And still, he waited, giving her the space to touch, to look, to want him.

He was beautiful in that rugged, dangerous way that should’ve come with a warning label. And he was looking at her like he was about to tear her apart, slowly and completely.

They locked eyes as her hands slid back down, nails scraping lightly over his abs until her fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer. She crashed her mouth against his in a desperate, searing kiss.

Eric caught her easily, stepping between her legs, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of her head, the other gripping her thigh, holding her open, grounding her to him. He didn’t rush, he savored.

Y/N broke the kiss just long enough to pull her top over her head, baring her upper-half fully without a second of hesitation, dropping the piece of fabric blindly on the counter beside them, never taking her eyes off him.

His gaze darkened instantly, dropping to her exposed breasts like he couldn't help himself. His hands found her chest again, cupping her, weighing her in his palms. He kissed her again, slower this time and then let his mouth travel lower, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, tasting her, marking her.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he muttered against her skin, the rough scrape of his teeth dragging heat across her breasts as he palmed them and thumbed over her nipples, watching her arch into his touch, craving for more. His mouth closed around one peak, sucking, grazing it with his teeth just enough to make her cry out softly, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He played her like he knew her body better than she did, his mouth worshipping her while his hands wandered lower, tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, memorizing her shape like it was sacred. His fingers caught at the waistband of her skirt.

Without needing words, she lifted her hips for him. His teeth clamped gently around her nipple, a teasing warning, just enough to make her whimper as he dragged her skirt and panties down her legs, baring her completely to him.

Eric’s hands came down on her knees, spreading her wider with slow, unhurried pressure, until she felt fully exposed and at his mercy, entirely his.

The look he gave her made her shiver from head to toe. Raw and hungry, like he couldn’t believe she was real... and he was about to ruin her for anyone else.

"Perfect," he said, voice wrecked, eyes lingering shamelessly on her glistening core before dragging slowly back up to meet hers.

He crouched down, fingers deft as he unbuckled her heels, the soft thud of them hitting the floor echoing in the thick, charged air. Her heart pounded harder, breath catching as he rose back over her, tall, powerful, utterly focused. 

His hands slid up the delicate curve of her calves, gliding over the sensitive skin of her thighs, lingering just enough to make her shiver, before traveling higher, tracing her hips, her ribs, the sides of her body, until he reached her shoulders. With a slow, deliberate touch, he urged her back, laying her down.

She laid flat on the counter with a shuddering breath, the coolness of the marble against her heated skin making her arch slightly, helplessly.

Eric hooked her legs over his broad shoulders, pulling her to the very edge of the counter, until she felt the hot fan of his breath exactly where she needed him most.

She choked on a gasp, thighs instinctively trying to close around him, but his hands gripped her hips, firm and unrelenting, holding her wide open for him.

“These stay open for me,” he murmured, voice rough velvet.

He kissed the inside of one of her thighs first, slow and maddening, teeth scraping lightly over her sensitive skin, then the other, avoiding on purpose exactly where she was aching for him, making her squirm, making her beg without a word.

The anticipation was unbearable. Every nerve ending in her body strained toward him, desperate and frantic. Until his mouth finally brushed over the edge of her folds, so light it barely counted as a touch, a tease that made her hips jerk and a broken whimper come out of her lips.

"God, you're already so wet for me," he growled against her skin, his breath hot and sinful.

Then, with a deliberate and devastating slowness, he licked a long, firm stripe up her slit, pausing to circle her clit with the tip of his tongue in lazy, featherlight strokes that made her thighs tremble against his shoulders.

She whimpered, writhing under him, the feel of her tongue against her so good she could barely breathe, but he just chuckled low against her, teasing, drawing it out and dragging her higher.

He moved with devastating patience, his mouth skillful and relentless, alternating between slow, maddening flicks of his tongue and deep, languid strokes that made her spine arch clean off the counter.

Y/N fisted the edge of the marble beneath her, the cold, smooth surface grounding her against the pleasure he was unraveling from her body with humiliating ease. It was too much, but it was not enough, she needed him fully.

Her childhood nemesis, the boy who used to make her grit her teeth in fury, now had her legs thrown over his shoulders, her body trembling and desperate, coming apart from nothing but his mouth.

She shouldn’t be letting him do this. She shouldn’t be loving it this much. She shouldn’t be teetering on the edge of begging him to ruin her completely, to never let her forget the way he made her feel right now, stretched out, helpless, adored and wrecked all at once.

His hands gripped her hips harder as she writhed underneath him, holding her down easily, like he could feel her slipping, like he wanted to drag every last moan out of her.

His tongue circled her clit in slow, tantalizing spirals before flattening against her, pressing and teasing until her thighs quaked around him. Every flick, every slow stroke sent sparks shooting through her bloodstream, a pressure building so fast and sharp she could barely form coherent thoughts anymore.

"Eric..." she gasped out, her voice hoarse and trembling.

He growled against her at the sound of his name coming out in such a lustful way from her lips, and she felt him smile wickedly against her skin. That man knew exactly how close she was, and had no intention of making it easy for her.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes from the sheer force of how good it felt, from the way he pushed her closer and closer to the edge only to ease back, teasing, tormenting, savoring every second of her unraveling.

"I can't…" She choked out, head tossing back against the counter. "I need… I need your cock, please…”

The words tore out of her raw and shameless. Eric lifted his head at her broken plea, and the moment their eyes met, it was like a punch to her chest. The look he gave her, dark, hungry, full of so much raw possession, nearly shattered her right there.

Her body jerked involuntarily, another wave of desperate need crashing through her. Before she could even catch her breath, he hooked his arms under her thighs, lifting her off the counter like she weighed nothing.

She gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to him as he carried her across the open space of his apartment. The room spun around her, the dim lights blurring, until he lowered her carefully onto a thick, soft rug that stretched across his living room floor.

Eric knelt over her, caging her in with his body, and crashed his mouth down onto hers. She could taste herself on his lips, slick and sweet, the taste of her own wrecked arousal making her moan into the kiss.

He kissed her like he wanted to consume her, messy and wild and so damn filthy it made her toes curl into the rug.

Before she could even think to move, he sat back on his heels, standing up between her spread thighs, his eyes dark with need as he looked down at her sprawled out, completely at his mercy.

His chest heaved with ragged breaths as his hands went to the button of his jeans, fingers working slowly, deliberately, popping the button free and dragging the zipper down with a slow, agonizing rasp. He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down in one fluid motion.

Her mouth went dry and her heart stuttered violently in her chest.

Her jaw actually dropped, eyes wide, fixed on the thick, heavy length of him standing hard and proud between his hips, long and thick. Veins running along the shaft, the flushed head leaking a bead of precome that made her walls clench around nothing, desperate and aching.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips unconsciously, her whole body pulsed with need, every nerve ending screaming to feel him stretch her open, to fill her so deep she’d forget her own damn name.

A slow, devious smirk curled on Eric’s lips as he watched her reaction, pride and raw hunger flashing across his face.

He finished kicking off the last of his clothes, never once taking his eyes off her, letting her see everything, every inch of him that was about to take her.

He sank back down, bracing himself above her, the heat of his body bleeding into hers.

“There’s a reason I brought you here,” he rasped, his voice thick, the tip of his nose brushing against hers in an intimate touch. “Why I want you here,” he muttered again, his gaze dragging down the flushed, trembling length of her body. 

Then his eyes flicked upward.

“Look up,” he ordered, voice dropping even lower.

Y/N’s head tipped back, and when her eyes found the ceiling, she gasped. A massive mirror stared back at her, angled perfectly above the rug where she laid spread out beneath him, naked and flushed. Her breath hitched, a flush of raw, shameless heat rushing through her.

Eric's mouth brushed against her ear, voice dark and full of promises that made her entire body tense with anticipation.

“You’re gonna take every fucking inch of me,” he said, low and merciless, one hand wrapping around himself, dragging the thick head of his cock slowly through her folds, teasing her clit as he coated himself in her arousal. “And you’re going to watch every second of it.”

Eric kept teasing her, sliding his cock through her folds again and again, getting himself even wetter with her arousal, until she was trembling under him, breathless and aching. Then, with a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, he aligned himself at her entrance.

Their eyes locked, molten heat meeting frantic need, and he pushed forward, breaching her with a slow, steady roll of his hips. The thick, flushed head of his cock stretched her open, stealing the breath straight from her lungs.

She gasped, her back arching off the rug, nails digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor her against the overwhelming pleasure flooding her system.

“Eyes on me,” Eric growled low, his forehead pressing to hers for a beat as her eyes met his beautiful green ones, his hand sliding under one of her thighs to hitch it higher against his side, opening her even wider for him.

She whimpered, chest heaving, forcing herself to meet his gaze as he sank deeper, inch by inch, her body stretching to accommodate him.

His own eyes moved down to where their bodies met and she followed him. A new found wave of pleasure flooded through her as she watched him disappearing inside her, raw, how impossibly thick he looked sliding between her folds, how her skin flushed and her stomach fluttered with every slow, claiming thrust.

She saw Eric too, the hard cut of his muscles flexing, the tattoos spread across his arms and chest as he held himself over her, his face twisted in a feral mix of pleasure and possession as he drove into her.

And then his hand slid up to her jaw, tilting her face up.

"Now watch," he ordered, voice wrecked and shaking with restraint.

Y/N’s gaze lifted to the mirror and the sight stole what little breath she had left. 

The sight of their tangled, naked bodies laid out on the floor made something inside her coil tight. Eric’s tattooed frame above hers, muscles flexing with every movement. Her own body, legs wide open as he pushed into her, flushed and gorgeous beneath him, hair fanned out like a crown, lips parted in bliss. She looked devoured. She looked divine.

Her eyes locked on the mirror again. She watched, panting, as his hips rolled into hers with a fluid rhythm, deep and devastating. His muscles shifted beneath inked skin, and when her manicured nails raked down his back, the sight of red trails across his tattoos made her whimper.

She was losing her mind in the best possible way.

Her fingers clenched into his arms, the need coming back sharp and unstoppable. She arched into him, pulling him down again, their mouths crashing with renewed hunger.

A loud, broken moan ripped from her lips the moment he bottomed out, the head of his cock nudging that devastating spot inside her that made her entire body quake. She felt so full it was almost unbearable, stretched so wide around his thickness she could feel every vein, every throb, every wicked inch claiming her from the inside out.

"Fuck, baby," Eric hissed through gritted teeth, rocking his hips slowly, deliberately, making sure she felt every inch of him dragging against her hypersensitive walls. "You were fucking made for me."

Y/N could only whimper, eyes glazing as she watched herself take him, the mirror showing every desperate, obscene reactions of everything she felt, the heavy drag of his cock, the way her body clung to him, the pink streaks marking his skin where her nails had clawed him, the way her toes curled and her thighs trembled with each slow, grinding thrust.

She didn't even realize she was moaning his name over and over, pleading without words for more, for him to go harder, for everything.

He buried his face in her neck, cursing under his breath, hips jerking forward again like he couldn’t help it, like bottoming her out wasn’t near enough. His hips started to move harder, faster and desperate.

Each thrust drove a filthy sound from her lips, the slick slide of his cock inside her growing louder, wetter, with every relentless push. Her body jolted under each thrust, helpless against the way he pounded into her, hips grinding into hers, his pelvis hitting her clit just right, making sparks shoot through her belly.

She could barely catch a breath between moans, whimpers, cries of his name that sounded wrecked and raw.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Eric rasped, his voice shattering into a low, broken groan as her walls squeezed around him, sucking him deeper and tighter.

Eric's mouth found hers again, crushing their lips together, messy and hungry, all teeth and tongue and desperation. He kissed her like he needed her to breathe, stealing the broken little moans from her mouth and giving her more in return.

Then he tore his mouth away with a rough curse and flipped them over without warning, dragging her on top of him.

Y/N gasped, dizzy from the sudden shift, her thighs now straddling his hips, his cock dragging against her overstimulated entrance. She felt him, thick and heavy against her, glistening with her arousal.

Eric’s hands gripped her hips hard, guiding her.

"Ride me," he growled, voice so deep and filthy it vibrated against her ribs. "Show me how bad you need it."

Her hands splayed on his chest, feeling the wild pound of his heart under her palms, feeling the flex of his muscles as he held himself in check, just for her. The look in his eyes was dark, ravenous, devoted, and it made her clench around nothing, aching to be full again.

She rose up on trembling thighs and reached between them, wrapping her fingers around the thick base of his cock, guiding him back to her entrance. Eric’s jaw locked tight, a vein bulging in his forehead, as he fought for control when she teased the head against herself, circling, teasing.

"Don't fuckin' tease, baby," he gritted out, his fingers digging bruises into her hips. "Sit. Down."

And she did.

With a shuddering cry, she sank down onto him all at once, feeling herself stretch impossibly wide all over again as she slid him in completely. Her head dropped back, mouth falling open in a silent moan as she felt his cock buried to the hilt inside her, the new position allowing a new depth she wasn’t aware she could handle.

Eric’s head thudded back against the floor, his eyes squeezed shut, a broken sound ripping from his throat like she had just snapped something deep inside him as she started to ride him in a maddening rhythm.

Y/N gazed up to the ceiling again and the mirror gave her front-row seats to her own desire,  the way she moved on him, hips circling slow and deliberate every now and then, the way she ground herself down against him, the bounce of her breasts, the way his hands gripped her thighs like he was holding onto sanity, she almost came right then and there.

She leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs, the angle adding to their pleasure, making his cock rub against the sensitive spot inside her again. Her mouth fell open, a low moan leaving her throat.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, one hand sliding up her belly, between her breasts, gripping her throat lightly, not to hurt, but to hold her there, to make her feel everything.

"Look at yourself, baby," he growled. "Look how perfect you are, riding my cock like you were born to."

He tugged her forward by her neck as he sat up, muscles rippling beneath her. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and dark and so damn gone for her. And then he kissed her, but this time slower and claiming, as if to savor her as she sensually rolled her hips against him. Like they had all night, and no one else in the world existed but them.

Y/N’s body felt like it was on fire, the rhythm of her movements starting to blur, mind lost in the haze of pleasure. Her thighs burned, trembling as she bounced harder, faster, the pace increasing until she felt dizzy from the effort.

Every time she slid down, she felt the thick, burning stretch of him filling her, pushing deeper, making her whole body jerk from the force of it. Her nails dug into his chest, then his shoulders, anything she could grab to steady herself as her breaths turned into desperate gasps.

She was drunk on him. Cockdrunk. Her vision blurred, hips rolling, back arching, chasing the high, every nerve in her body strung out, too much, but never enough. She needed more.

Her eyes locked with his, every ounce of control slipping through her fingers, and still, she couldn’t stop. Her hips rocked harder, desperate.

"Fuck," Eric groaned, his fingers digging into her waist, helping her push down faster, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “You fuck me so fucking good, baby. Can’t get enough of you.”

His voice was raw, rough, and she nearly came at the sound of it, and the way he looked at her, made her feel even more out of control. She was dripping, her body so sensitive it was torture.

Y/N gasped, her body jerking as she tried to keep her rhythm, but she was so close, her walls were fluttering, her body was trembling, ready to snap.

“Come on, baby,” Eric growled, voice rough and coaxing as his hands gripped her hips harder, guiding her. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

That was all it took.

With a sharp, broken sob of his name, her body finally gave in. The orgasm ripped through her like a violent wave, her thighs clamping around his waist, nails raking down his chest as she shattered. Her vision went white around the edges, her whole body convulsing as she sobbed through it, hips grinding desperately against him even as she came undone.

Eric cursed low and vicious under his breath as he jerked up his hips to meet hers, fucking her through it, dragging her higher and keeping her there, drawing every last tremor from her body before he caught her, arms wrapping around her body before she could collapse completely.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped and spread kisses from her jaw and along her neck as flipped them over again with effortless strength, laying her out beneath him. 

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before he grabbed her legs, lifting both and hooking them over his shoulders, folding her in half.

The new angle made her cry out, raw and overstimulated, as he slid back into her in one deep, devastating thrust. She could feel him everywhere, filling her even deeper than before, hitting spots inside her that made her vision blur with pleasure.

“God, you feel like heaven,” he groaned against her skin, his arms wrapping over her thighs to lock her in place, holding her against him. His thrusts were brutal now, hips snapping against hers, desperate, dragging out wet, broken sounds from both of them.

She clutched at the rug beneath her, sobbing his name, every stroke driving her higher again, even though she was still shaking from the first orgasm.

Eric’s mouth found the inside of her calf, pressing fevered kisses up her trembling leg, his voice a wrecked whisper against her skin. “You’re mine. Fuck, baby, you’re mine.”

She couldn't speak, couldn't think, only feel the way he took over her body, the way he worshiped it with every rough, punishing thrust, the way he was unraveling right alongside her.

His rhythm grew frantic, erratic, and Y/N felt him throbbing deep inside her, hips stuttering. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin as he groaned low and savage, pulling out at the last second.

She whimpered at the sudden loss, and then gasped when the first hot, thick rope of his release splattered across her belly and breasts.

Eric’s head dropped between her legs for a moment, breath heaving, forehead pressed against her thigh as he tried to pull himself together. His hand stroked up her trembling side, almost reverently.

When he finally looked up at her, his green eyes were softer now, full of something almost tender she couldn’t quite read through at that moment.

"You’re fucking perfect," he rasped, his voice wrecked.

Eric stayed there for a beat longer, forehead resting against her thigh, his hand still smoothing over her sensitive skin like he couldn't stop touching her. Like he wouldn't stop.

Neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room was their shattered breathing, the heavy, pulsing aftermath of everything they'd just done. Of everything they still wanted.

Y/N blinked up at the ceiling, at the mirror above them, seeing the wrecked, wanton version of herself sprawled out, glistening, legs still trembling, marked by him in every way. And Eric,fuck, Eric looked even worse. Wild, untamed, beautiful in the most devastating way.

When he finally lifted his head, his gaze pinned her in place. There was no teasing in his eyes now, no smug grin. Just a dark, burning possession that made her whole body tighten again in response, even though she was still trembling from the first round.

Something had shifted. Irrevocably. And it scared the hell out of her, but not enough to run.

Eric leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her head, caging her in with his body.

"You’re staying the night," he rasped, voice still ragged and low from what they’d just done. His forehead pressed to hers, his breath hot against her mouth. "Not done with you yet."

She gave a breathless, wrecked little laugh, her fingers curling into his hair as she whispered back. "Good. I’m not done with you either."

The look he gave her in that moment, wild, hungry and almost relieved, made her heart stutter violently in her chest. 

And as he kissed her again, this time differently, slower and full of emotion, like he was imprinting her onto his very soul, Y/N knew one thing for certain: whatever this was between them, it was just getting started.

Video Games - Dad!Bill Skarsgard x Reader

(The images above do not belong to me, all credits belong to their owner)

Author’s note:

Hello darlings, this story was requested by an Anon, I loved the idea of creating a dad!Bill scenario because he gives off such a big and loving dad vibes, so here you go.

Masterlist

The request:

And for the Anon who requested it, I tried to keep your concept, I hope it lives up to your expectations!

Spoiler: this story will have a part 2 in the future, stay tuned!

Disclaimers: No disclaimers! Fluffy content only!

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

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

I hope you enjoy this story, requests with Bill are always open so if you have any ideas I’m all ears!

Please feel free to leave a comment, like and/or reblog the story, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing ❤️❤️❤️

End of Author’s Note

The sun was high up in the sky when Y/N and her toddler, Leo, arrived in Malibu Beach. The breeze carried the scent of sea, salt and sunscreen, gulls cried overhead, their wings cutting across a sky so blue it looked like a canvas.

“Can I go run in the sand, mommy? Can I?” Leo asked, his voice bubbling with the kind of joy only a three-year-old could muster at eight in the morning.

Y/N smiled, crouching down to apply him some sunscreen. “Alright, but stay close to mommy, okay?”

The moment she finished, Leo was off, charging into the warm, golden sand like it was a new planet. He ran in wide circles, laughing, arms stretched like airplane wings. Y/N couldn’t stop watching him, this perfect little boy they’d made, who somehow carried both her gentleness and Bill’s spark in his tiny frame.

She slipped off her sandals and wandered after Leo, letting the cool tide wash over her toes and the breeze sweep through her hair. Bill should be somewhere nearby, since the location wasn’t far from where his personal assistant had secretly informed her he’d be during his takes that day.

Secretly because she hadn’t told Bill they’d be visiting him. There was something kind of magic about the idea of showing up unannounced, of giving him a small taste of home when he least expected it. Especially considering that Bill was away for almost a month for this new project.

“Mommy, look!” Leo was holding up a seashell like it was a treasure, beaming.

She laughed and walked over, scooping him into her arms. “You think daddy would like this?”

Leo nodded solemnly. “We can give it to him when we see him.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head and held his free hand, heart already swelling at the thought.

“Yes,” she said quietly and checked the time on her phone. According to his assistant, he should have a small break in a few minutes, long enough for them to reach the set location on foot. “Let’s go surprise daddy.”

They followed the curve of the shoreline, the set slowly coming into view. From a distance, Y/N could already see the crew gathered around large reflector panels and cables, the haze of cameras pointed toward a man walking barefoot through the shallows.

Leo spotted him first.

“Daddy!” he whispered, eyes wide with excitement.

Y/N’s heart stuttered. She gently tightened her hold on his hand.

“Wait, sweetheart,” she said softly, crouching beside him. “Daddy’s still working, remember? We have to be quiet until he’s done, okay? We’ll say hi as soon as he's done.”

Leo nodded like his mom had just given him the most important mission in the world, bouncing on his toes, barely able to contain the joy thrumming through him. His tiny fingers squeezed hers tighter while he clutched the small seashell in his other hand, his whole body tilting toward the set, trying to make her walk faster.

They took slow, quiet steps across the sand, staying just behind the edge of the crew’s camp. No one had noticed them yet.

Bill stood at the center of it all, barefoot in the tide, soaked to the knees. The camera was rolling. In his character, Bill moved with intention, a quiet intensity in his expression as he shot the scene, delivering what seemed to be a serious line to the actor beside him.

Y/N held her breath, watching him through the lens of something deeper than just pride. He was so in it, so transformed, and yet still entirely him. The man who left her flowers and notes in her coffee cup. The father who stayed up rocking Leo through sleepless nights when he was a baby. The love of her life.

She could feel Leo’s excitement rising beside her, his small body trembling in anticipation, but he stayed quiet, watching, waiting, hand glued to hers.

Then finally the director called: “Cut!”

The moment the word left his mouth, Leo couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Daddy!”

His voice rang out over the sand like a bell, bright and high and impossible to miss.

Bill turned instinctively, scanning the set until his eyes landed on them. For a second, he didn’t move.

Seeing Y/N standing there, under the golden morning light, hair fluttering in the breeze and the soft pink fabric of her sundress dancing around her legs, looked like something out of a dream, heartwarming and terrifyingly beautiful.

And storming off from her side came Leo, his shining green eyes radiant as he sprinted towards him.

Bill’s face cracked into the brightest and most stunned smile.

“Leo?” he breathed, already stepping forward to meet his boy.

The crew turned to look, whispers rippling through them. Everyone knew Bill was married, that was sort of public record, but no one here had ever seen his family. He kept that part of his life under lock and key. Quiet and untouched, away from the spotlights.

And yet here they were.

“Daddy!”

Bill met him halfway, scooping the boy into his arms and lifting him high into the sky before pulling him close, pressing kisses to his cheek and temple, only to then bury his face into the warm crook of Leo’s neck, taking in the familiar scent of baby shampoo that brought him so much peace.

“I missed you so much, buddy,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

Y/N approached slowly, a smile tugging at her lips, heart pounding hard in her chest. When Bill looked up and their eyes met, it was as if the whole world stopped.

Even after all those years together and all the memories made, in that moment it still felt like the first time, that same sudden rush, the flutter in her chest and butterflies in her stomach. Just one look and she knew she was his forever.

Bill reached out and pulled her in with his free arm, burying his face in her neck for one long, grounding moment, before giving her a soft kiss on her lips. “You’re really here.”

“Surprise,” she whispered.

Leo squished between them, giggling at being caught in the middle of something so big and soft and warm.

The director walked towards them, a curious expression on his face, but whatever reprimand of outsiders getting into the set he might’ve had, dissolved as soon as he saw the scene in front of him.

He gave a crooked smile and said, “Let’s take five.”

As Bill held Leo close, the little boy wriggled slightly, then pulled back just enough to reveal the small seashell still clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes were bright with pride as he held it out. “Daddy,” he said, serious and beaming all at once, “I brought you a present.”

Bill blinked and looked down at the tiny treasure resting in his son’s palm, tiny and white with faint pink spirals. “You found this for me?” he asked, as if it were a priceless gem.

Leo nodded proudly. “It’s special. I found it with mommy.”

Bill took it with reverence, turning it between his fingers. “It’s perfect, I love it. Thank you, buddy.”

Y/N smiled, heart full as she watched them. The little things always got her, the way Bill crouched lower so Leo could stand on his own, the tenderness in his hands, the way he looked at their son like he still couldn’t believe they’d made something so incredible together.

They wandered a bit down the beach until they found a quieter spot, away from the cameras and crew. Bill laid a towel on the sand for Y/N, then sat beside her, tugging her gently into his side as Leo ran in chaotic zigzags in front of them, chasing seagulls and splashing at the edge of the water.

For a long, quiet moment, they just sat there, Y/N resting her head on Bill’s shoulder, his arm around her, the shell still clutched in his hand.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” Bill said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She smiled against his shoulder. “You’ve been working so hard. We just wanted to remind you what’s waiting for you when you come home.”

His fingers found hers, lacing them together. “You’re my whole world, you know that?”

“We know,” she whispered.

Leo shrieked with laughter as a wave chased him back toward them, his small footprints scattered across the wet sand.

Bill watched him with that stunned kind of wonder he always had when he looked at their son, like every time was the first time and everything was a new discovery.

Then, he turned to Y/N and pulled her in for another kiss, this one slower and deeper. His tongue dancing against hers in their own rhythm, like a song only they knew.

And in that very moment, with the sun warming their skin, the sound of the ocean in their ears, and their son’s laughter ringing through the air, there was no script, no spotlight, no audience.

Just the three of them. And it was everything.

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 6

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

I have a few random ideas for this chapter, but the song "Southbound" by Artemas just stuck to my head and I followed down that path... If you're into listeting to something while reading, that's the song I recommend.

That chapter is a little longer, I hope you all enjoy it (let me know in the comments).

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

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

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

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

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

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

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

End of Author’s note

The engine growled beneath her, the vibration rattled through her bones and settled somewhere low in her stomach. Eric revved it once, and she knew he did it just to make her grip him tighter.

Her arms instinctively locked around his torso, and god, he felt solid. Her palms slid across his chest and abs, the muscle beneath his t-shirt hard and chiseled, radiating heat as she held on tighter.

She pressed closer, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Another rev, this one louder and sharper. He leaned into a turn and she clung to him, hands fisting his t-shirt and legs tightening on either side of the bike.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, but she could swear she felt him smirk even though she couldn’t see it.

A few minutes later Eric parked in front of a building that looked like it should’ve been condemned years ago. No lights in the windows, no signs. Just black-painted brick and a nondescript steel door set into the wall.

She yanked the helmet off, brow furrowing. “What is this place?’”

Eric didn’t answer. He was already at the door, knocking twice, then once more with a rhythm that made her raise an eyebrow. It creaked open and a man on the other side glanced at Eric, then stepped aside to let them in.

The inside of the building told a totally different story from its outside.

Golden lights bathed the space in warmth, casting a glow over shelves lined with colorful bottles of liquor behind the bar. In the far corner, a pool table sat under a single swinging bulb. A few people lingered by the bar, but it was far from packed.

She stepped in cautiously, eyes adjusting. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I knew you’d be surprised.” He said, already heading towards the bar. “Pick your poison.”

She joined him, perching on the stool beside him as she ordered two shots of jägerbomb. When the bartender brought them over, she slid one towards Eric and held hers up in a silent toast.

“To the truce,” he said, eyes never leaving hers.

She hesitated a beat, then tapped her glass against his. “Temporary, so don’t get used to it.”

The shot burned in the best way and settled like heat in her chest.

“You play?” he asked, nodding toward the pool table.

“I’m decent,” she said, standing. “But if you’re looking for an ego boost, I can fake being worse.”

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that caught her off-guard. “You faking anything tonight wouldn’t be a first.”

She gave him a look but didn’t push back. Instead, she grabbed a cue and chalked it.

They started playing and he was good, like really good. But she held her own. There was something strangely intimate about it. The quiet moments between the shots, the way he watched her move around the table, the low chuckle he let out when she sank a difficult shot. 

Between turns, their conversation unfolded in pieces, little glimpses into the years they’d missed. She told him about the cities she’d lived in, the jobs that didn’t stick, the one that finally did. He mentioned his own adventures, his move back to town, the business he was starting with a friend. 

It wasn’t heavy or overly sentimental, just real and honest. She found herself laughing more than she expected, leaning into the way he spoke with his hands, how his expressions hadn’t changed much since they were teenagers. 

The tension was still there, always simmering, but now it wasn’t combative, it was easy, almost natural.

At one point, she leaned over the table to take a shot, body aligned with her target, hips angled just right. The air shifted behind her, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him and the way his eyes traced her unapologetic. 

“You always bend like that when you’re trying to distract the competition?” His voice came low from behind her, nearly brushing her ear.

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t look back. “Only when the competition’s dumb enough to fall for it.”

“Hmm.” He was closer now. She could feel it in the way the hairs on her neck stood up. “Guess I’m losing, then.”

She made the shot clean, straight into the pocket, and stood slowly. Their eyes met, and everything between them tightened.

His hand brushed her hip as he stepped past her, his touch barely there, not enough to start something, just enough to remind her he could, and she didn’t move away.

“Lucky,” he said.

“Skilled,” she corrected.

The game wound down not long after, both of them trading points back and forth with silent, crackling focus. He won, but barely. One ball left on the table when he sank the eight.

She shook her head as he straightened up, smug. “Should’ve distracted you harder.”

Eric's grin turned wicked as he stepped in close, his voice a low murmur meant only for her.

“If you’d distracted me any harder,” he said, eyes dipping briefly to her lips as his knuckles caressed her cheeks, “the game wouldn’t have made it to the end.”

He let the implication hang in the air between them, heavy and charged. For a second, neither of them moved. Then, with a flick of his head, he broke the spell.

“Come on,” he said, already turning towards a door at the back of the bar. “There’s more.”

She followed, pulse quickening as the sound of the bar faded behind them. The hallway was narrow, the music thrumming louder with each step until they reached a staircase that curved down into the dark.

The descent was like stepping into another world. The bass hit her first, deep and pulsing, syncing with her heartbeat. The space below was darker, more intimate, washed in red and violet light. People moved on the floor like smoke, bodies pressed together, energy crackling in the air.

He led her through the crowd, his hand finding hers without asking. She let it. Let him pull her onto the floor as the beat shifted, slow and heavy.

She moved closer on instinct. He met her there, arms low on her hips, their bodies already swaying. The music soaked into her bones, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she stopped thinking.

They hadn’t even been dancing that long and she was already overheating. Not from the beat or the crowd or the alcohol. From him.

Her back pressed to his chest, and she could feel everything. The rhythm flowing through both of them like a shared heartbeat, every breath, every shift in his hips. His hands rested low on her waist, firm, possessive, thumbs hooked in her skirt’s belt loops keeping and pulling her closer.

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the beat pull her in. Her hips swayed side to side, slow and hypnotic, brushing against him in light, teasing passes. Each time she rolled back, she felt the slight hitch in his breath, the way his body tensed just a little tighter.

Until she did it on purpose. A slow, deliberate roll of her hips and her ass pressed flush against him, grinding back in a smooth, sinuous rhythm that made contact unavoidable.

His hands clamped down on her waist in a warning grip. His fingers dug into her sides, not painful, but enough to remind her of exactly who was behind her. She felt the shift in him instantly, how his restraint cracked, how his body responded before his brain could stop it. There was no space between them anymore. Just heat.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing her ear, breath hot and uneven.

“You keep doing that,” he rasped, voice rough with want, “and I’m forgetting we’re in public.” His grip tightened and her pulse stuttered. “And I’ve got a feeling you won’t stop me.”

His nose skimmed the curve of her jaw, lips ghosting over her skin without touching, like he was savoring how close he could get without crossing that final line. She swallowed hard, but didn’t stop moving. 

He was right, she wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever he had in mind, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. Instead, she let her head fall back, her head resting on his chest, letting her weight settle against him in a silent dare as his hands slid up her sides.

He let out the softest groan, barely audible over the music, but she felt it, deep in his chest, vibrating through her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Then he turned her around in one smooth pull, one of his hands still gripping her waist, keeping their bodies still flush as the other slid up her back as their eyes locked.

Their bodies fit too easily, too well. His thigh slotted between hers, her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, fingers curling just enough to make him breathe a little harder.

Chest to chest, heat curled between them like it had a will of its own. She tilted her head up slightly, breath mingling in the narrow space between their mouths.

Eric’s gaze flicked down to her lips.“Don’t look at me like that…” 

“Like what?” She blinked up at him, all faux innocence, lashes low and mouth curving like she knew exactly what she was doing.

His voice dipped lower, rough with restraint. “Like you actually don’t give a damn who’s watching”

She tilted her chin, trying to steady herself, trying to keep some kind of upper hand as her pulse hammered beneath her skin. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No,” he said, the hand on her spine pressing her even closer. “I think you’re scared of how bad you want me.”

Her breath caught and her lips parted on instinct. She hated that he was right and hated how easily his words slid beneath her skin, curling low and electric in her belly.

He dipped his head, slowly, like giving her a chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her eyes fell to his lips, drawn in by gravity and heat. His hand tightened at her back, anchoring her there as his mouth hovered just over hers, so close she could feel the shape of it in the air.

Her lashes fluttered. Her hands tightened at the back of his neck. He didn’t kiss her yet, he lingered, like he was savoring the anticipation. Like he wanted her to feel every second of it.

His nose brushed hers, soft and intimate. His thumb traced the curve of her spine in slow, grounding circles. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she leaned up into him, lips parting slightly, chasing contact she wasn’t even sure he’d give.

Her eyes drifted shut and she felt him breathe her in, until -

“Yo, Eric!”

A voice cut clean through the moment like a knife. 

Eric didn’t move for a beat, his breath caught between them, jaw clenched tight as if he were physically forcing himself not to finish what he started. He pulled back just a fraction, just enough to break the spell, but not enough to give her space.

Y/N blinked, heart slamming against her ribs. Her lips still tingled from a kiss that hadn’t even happened. The interruption felt almost indecent, like being yanked from a dream too fast.

Eric’s head turned slowly toward the voice, irritation sharp in the line of his jaw. She followed his gaze just in time to catch the guy who’d called him out, a tall, smirking figure pushing through the crowd, hand raised in a sheepish half-wave.

“Damn,” the guy said as he approached, eyes flicking between them with a grin. “Didn’t realize you were in the middle of something. My bad.”

Eric didn’t reply at first. His hand was still on Y/N’s waist, thumb resting in the dip just above her hip like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You’re lucky I like you, Joe” he muttered to his friend, voice rough.

The friend just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, man. We’re all over by the VIP booth. Everyone’s been asking for you.”

Eric’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, like he was silently checking if she’d come too.

She didn’t hesitate and smiled at him reassuringly. “Lead the way.”

Eric looked back at her, that same heat still burning in his eyes, like he hadn’t cooled off one damn degree, and then proceeded to follow his friend. He didn’t move his hand from her waist as they followed the guy across the floor, weaving through sweaty bodies.

The booth was crowded with his half-way drunk friends. Another guy and a girl were slouched into the red curved leather seating, drinks in hand and mid-laughter. But the second they spotted Eric, their energy shifted and a small buzz was made celebrating his arrival.

“Eric!” One of the guys called, eyebrows shooting up as he stood and pulled him into a hug. “What are you doing here man?” 

“The same as you,Tate, having fun.” Eric replied while hugging him back.

That’s when Tate noticed her. His gaze slid to Y/N, eyes flicking up and down with undisguised curiosity as the rest of the group perked up, clearly wondering who she was.

“Damn, dude,” Tate said with a slow grin, one that vanished the moment Eric arched a brow at him. A silent warning. Tate caught it just in time and threw up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

Meanwhile, Eric’s hand shifted from her lower back to her waist, firmer now, his grip casual but unmistakably possessive.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your girl?” The raven-haired girl added, half-laughing, but watching closely, curiosity oozing out of her eyes as she, along with the rest of their friends, were surprised to see Eric with someone that, at first, seemed to mean to him more than just one of his one night stands.

Y/N’s heart hammered hard in her chest. His girl. She’d usually deny and deadpan despise such label, especially regarding Eric, but at that very moment, neither of them corrected it.

Eric leaned back slightly, hand still resting on her hip, like he wasn’t in any rush to clarify. His eyes flicked to hers before he spoke.

“This is Y/N,” he said simply. No smirk. No explanation. Just her name. Then, after a beat, his arm tightened around her waist ever so slightly. “She’s off limits.” He stated as he glared daggers at his friends. “And that includes you, Jes.” 

He pointed at the only girl in the table and that earned them a new chorus of laughter as they tried to make room for them in the booth. Despite their efforts, there wasn’t enough space for two people.

Eric slid in taking his seat and spread his thighs open, patting his thigh as if to tell Y/N that that was her seat, and cocked his eyebrow at her as if he was daring her to do so. She stared at him for half a second and then rolled her eyes before finally settling onto his lap, like it wasn’t the worst idea ever.

His hands found her waist again immediately, grounding her against him and steadying her as she shifted on his lap to get comfortable. Her skirt rode up slightly, and she felt his fingers twitch against her hip as his other hand now settled on her thigh, tracing small absentminded patterns against her smooth skin, as if he was trying to distract himself from the fact that that position had her ass was dangerously close to his cock. 

Moments later a server approached their table and set down a tray containing a row of tequila shots, lime wedges, a small dish of salt and the bottle for extra refill.

“Oh hell yes!” Joe grinned, already reaching for a shot. “Now we’re getting started!”

They all grabbed a glass, pinched some salt and claimed their pieces of lime. The mood on the table shifted, instantly getting louder as they raised their glasses and let the warm chaos of alcohol fuel them.

Eric’s grip on Y/N’s waist tightened slightly as she bent forward to grab her own sho;t, her ass pressing back just enough to remind them both where she was sitting.

They downed their first shot and Joe, who’d already taken an extra shot by himself, pointed at Eric and Y/N with a devious grin on his face. “Alright, alright. I saw you on the dance floor, you two are overdue for a body shot.”

Y/N blinked and turned to face Eric with a ‘what now?’ look on her face, only to find an amused, and apparently very happy, Eric with his friend’s suggestion.

He didn’t answer right away, he just cocked his head, eyes glinting with interest as he studied her expression. “Too much for you?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, playing it cool even as her pulse jumped. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

“Yeah?” His lips curved, slow and wicked. “Then let me go first.”

The table whooped as Eric gently brushed her hair over one shoulder with one hand while the other stayed anchored to her waist. Then, he reached for a piece of lime and brought it to her lips, his eyes dark with mischief.

“Open.” Her pussy clenched at the way that one word came out of his mouth, wondering what it would be like to hear it in another, more intimate, context. She tried to ignore the images painted in her head and parted her lips, allowing him to place the lime between them. “Now hold still.”

He murmured and poured a small trail of salt along the curve of her exposed neck, just over her pulse.

She barely had time to process the heat in his eyes before he leaned in. His mouth pressed to her neck, tongue darting out slow and unhurried, licking the salt in a way that was far more sensual than it had any right to be. 

But he didn’t stop there, he lingered, his lips and tongue giving an extra attention to the sensitive area, making a visible shiver run down her spine. The table cheered, but it all sounded distant compared to the pounding in her ears.

She exhaled shakily and turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, breath catching as he held the shot glass up in a mock toast, and downed it in one smooth move, only to then lean in and take the lime straight from her lips with his own.

His mouth brushed hers deliberately, lips ghosting over the corner of her mouth in a near-kiss that felt far more dangerous than anything they'd done on the dance floor. The contact was brief, but the aftershock was immediate, and she was afraid she’d catch on fire at any moment.

“Your turn,” he said, voice gravelly with restraint.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. 

She slid off his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs like it was the most casual thing in the world. The table went feral.

“Shit,” someone muttered.

Eric’s smirk froze and his gaze dropped to her, stunned, like he hadn’t expected her to raise the stakes like that, his breath catching visibly as she knelt in front of him with fire in her eyes. 

She lifted her hand, poured a small trail of salt onto her skin, and licked it off slowly, eyes never leaving his. Then, she placed both hands on his thighs as she nodded towards the bottle.

“Give it to me.” She pleaded, voice soft, but loaded as she stuck her tongue out just slightly.

Eric’s brows lifted, but he recovered quickly, grabbing the bottle with a steady hand. His once green eyes darkened as he tilted it, pouring straight onto her waiting tongue in a slow stream. 

She tilted her head back just enough, tongue out, eyes locked on his as he let the tequila spill in a slow stream into her waiting mouth. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Drank every drop and didn’t move a muscle except to swallow the liquor with a slow, deliberate motion. The sight before Eric so erotic it was almost too much for him to handle.

“Holy hell,” Tate mumbled, not even trying to hide it.

She licked her lips and caught the last drop with the tip of her tongue, and only then reached for her lime, sinking her teeth into it while holding his gaze. A drop of juice slipped down her chin and she wiped it with the pad of her thumb, sucking the excess off her finger with a knowing smirk that had no business being that lethal towards him.

Eric stared at her, utterly speechless.

“Someone get him a glass of water,” Joe said, laughing. “My boy is done.”

Eric didn’t even hear him, his eyes were still locked on Y/N, who sat back on her heels like she hadn’t just set the entire table on fire. Like she hadn’t just melted his brain with a look and a slice of lime.

She tilted her head, smug and breathless all at once. “Something wrong?”

He blinked once, slowly, like he was waking from a dream. Then his tongue swept across his bottom lip and he exhaled sharply through his nose. Then he stood, slowly, and reached down offering his hand.

She took it and he pulled her up, his hand sliding down hers until his fingers caught hers, threading them together without asking.

“We’re getting some air,” he said over his shoulder. His voice was cool, final.

Eric guided her away from the booth, away from the table, away from the noise. They slipped out through the side door, unnoticed by most, but not by Joe, who raised his eyebrows at Tate like well damn.

They didn’t wait for a reply. They didn’t need one, they all knew very well they needed some privacy.

The second they stepped outside a chill ran up her skin, still hot from the inside of the club and from her small stunt. 

It was quieter here, except for the thump of bass leaking through the walls and the chaos in her chest.

Eric didn’t say a word. He just kept walking until they were far enough from the door, tucked in the dark beside the building, the world distant and irrelevant, he had only one thing in his mind.

Then he turned and looked at her, a look that made her forget how to breathe. 

His eyes dropped from her eyes to her mouth, down the line of her throat, lingering at the way her chest rose and fell.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?” He murmured, voice dangerously soft.

Y/N leaned against the brick wall, heart hammering. “What, the shot?”

He stepped closer. “No,” he said. “The way you looked at me when you did it.” His thumb dragged her bottom lip, “on your fucking knees like a good girl.”

The praise made her knees feel like jelly and her core tighten with an aching need. At that point she didn’t just want him, she needed him. Needed him to ruin her completely. To fuck away every trace of the so-called hate she felt for him all those years. To have her screaming his name over and over until her voice broke.

Her lips parted, dizzy with lust. The air between them felt tight, too electric.

“You didn’t like it?” She asked, half-teasing, half-breathless.

He didn’t smile. “No,” he said. “I loved it.” His face got dangerously closer to hers. “That’s the problem.”

Eric’s hand slid down, ghosting along her jaw, then her neck, stopping just before her collarbone. His other hand braced against the wall beside her head.

“I want you so. fucking. bad.” His words came out like a confession. “But if I kiss you,” he warned, leaning in just enough that his lips hovered beside hers, “it’s not gonna stop there.”

“And I won’t want you to stop,” she whispered, lifting one leg just enough to brush along his thigh, teasing him, coaxing him between her legs.

“You like teasing me, don’t you?” His jaw twitched.

She looked up at him, fire in her eyes. “Only because I know you’ll do something about it.”

And that was it.

Eric didn’t just kiss her, he claimed her. And her dreams didn’t get any close to how he felt in real life.

His mouth caught hers in a kiss that was hot and consuming, like a starved man. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripped her hip hard, pulling her against him so hard that not even air fit between them. She gasped against his mouth and he swallowed it, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers in a slow, sinful rhythm that made her knees buckle.

A soft, desperate sound escaped her and he caught it, pressing her harder to the wall, his body molded to hers.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured.

She smirked, lips kiss-swollen, wild half-lidded eyes. “Then burn me.”

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 5

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

I hope you like this next chapter, I had so much fun writing it, let me know your thoughts and guesses for the next one!

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

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

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

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

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

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

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

End of Author’s note.

It was getting embarrassing. The amount of first dates she’d been on since the lake house trip? Ridiculous.

All those weeks she told herself it was about moving on, shaking off the dream and the stupid, aching obsession that came with it. But deep down, she knew the truth: She was looking for a replacement.

Someone to make her feel something remotely close to what Eric had made her feel in that goddamn dream. Someone whose body could match the weight of his on top of hers, someone whose kiss could fog up her brain and leave her gasping awake and desperate.

Instead, she got fumbled touches, boring kisses, one guy who moaned during the first kiss and another who tried to dirty talk mid-undressing by quoting the 50 Shades of Grey. Absolutely terrible.

Nothing landed. Nothing stuck. Sex, when it happened, was mechanical at best. At worst, a disappointment she faked her way through just to make it end faster.

Her friends said she was just in a dry spell. She laughed and said maybe her standards were too high. But the truth? Her body was stuck on someone it had never even really had.

Once again she’d gone through the usual steps: makeup, outfit, mentally preparing to be underwhelmed, and was fully expecting this date to be like the others. Safe, forgettable, mildly disappointing. Another attempt to prove to herself that what happened at the lake was a fluke, that it hadn’t really left a dent.

But by the second drink, she found herself smiling. Actually smiling.

The guy, Mason, was charming in a low-effort kind of way. Confident without being cocky. Funny, not performative. He had kind blue eyes and a deep laugh that made her relax in her seat. He even caught her references without making it into a competition. And he didn’t try too hard to touch her. No constant hand on the small of her back. No hovering. Just… talking. Listening. Making her laugh.

She caught herself leaning in. This was nice. It was the first time in weeks she actually felt a spark.

Not fireworks, not chaos, but something warm and steady, something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

And for once, she wasn’t thinking about what came next. She wasn’t wondering if he’d kiss her unexpectedly. She wasn’t comparing him to someone else. She was just there, enjoying the moment. Enjoying herself.

And across the room, Eric saw everything.

He’d only just walked in, a hand resting casually on the back of the woman beside him. They were mid-conversation, his smile halfway formed, when his gaze flicked toward the booth Y/N was and stopped cold.

There she was. Hair down, shoulders bare in some slinky top that made his throat go dry. Laughing like she didn't have a care in the world. Her hand on some guy’s arm. Her eyes shining.

The smile dropped from his face.

He hadn’t seen her since the lake house. Hadn’t heard from her. And maybe he’d thought she’d been just as mentally struck by that weekend as he was, tossing and turning, replaying moments that could have happened if they weren’t constantly worried about pissing each other off.

But this? This didn’t look struck.

He almost missed what the woman beside him was saying. She tugged at his arm, laughing, trying to pull him toward the bar. He let her, but his eyes didn’t leave Y/N.

Not until she turned.

She must’ve felt it, his stare. She looked up slowly, eyes scanning the room until they landed on him.

And then she froze. It hit her like a blow to the chest.

She hadn’t seen him come in. Hadn’t noticed the girl on his arm or the way he was watching her. She’d been too busy enjoying herself. Too caught off-guard by the rare possibility of something working.

Now all of that joy fizzled into static.

Their eyes locked and her smile slid from her lips. His gaze was unreadable, not angry, not smug, just… sharp. Too sharp. He looked at her date, then back at her, and something subtle shifted in his jaw.

Her pulse kicked. She tried to recover, smoothing her expression, even leaning slightly closer to Mason in a pathetic attempt to reclaim the easy moment she’d lost. But it was gone. He had taken it.

And then she noticed her. The woman next to Eric. Stunning. Effortlessly elegant. Touching his chest as she whispered something in his ear.

Y/N swallowed hard and turned back to Mason with a smile that felt like it was cracking down the middle.

She could feel his gaze on her from across the bar. Even when she wasn’t looking, her skin prickled with the weight of it. Mason was still talking, something about a trip to the coast, and she was nodding, laughing in the right places, playing her part like a pro. But her mind wasn’t in it anymore.

She tilted her body toward Mason again, nodded at something he said like she was still locked in, still present. And she was. Kind of.

Her date didn’t seem to notice the shift, thank god. Or maybe he was too caught up in the way she was laughing again, leaning forward just enough that her top dipped slightly. Her fingers brushed against his when he reached for another drink, and she let them linger.

She dared another glance towards Eric and she deeply regretted it.

One of his hands rested casually on the small of the woman’s back and Eric leaned in to say something close to her ear. Something that made her laugh and touch his chest like she owned him.

Y/N’s smile tightened.

The woman tipped her chin toward him, flirting in that quiet, practiced way. Eric said something else, slow and low, and then, just to really drive the knife in, he looked across the room at Y/N again. Met her eyes, held them and smirked.

She turned back to Mason quickly, laughing too hard at whatever he’d just said, her hand landing on his arm like muscle memory. If Eric wanted to make her jealous, fine. Two could play that game.

She leaned in again, close enough for Mason to catch the hint, and when he did, his hand brushed her thigh under the table, she let it happen.

But even as Mason leaned in like he might kiss her, her mind was already a few tables over, tracing every inch of Eric’s expression. That lazy smirk. That smug tilt of his head.

He knew exactly what he was doing. And damn it, it was working.

Mason’s hand brushed higher on her thigh. It wasn’t unwelcome, not really, but it wasn’t electric either. Just a growing restlessness in her chest.

Y/N leaned back slightly, smiled at him, and said, “I’ll be right back,” before slipping out of the booth and heading toward the bathroom.

Only she didn’t go to the bathroom.

The cool air outside hit against her flushed skin. She leaned against the brick walls, closing her eyes, letting herself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours.

God, she was unraveling. All it had taken was one look at him. One smug glance, one perfectly timed smirk, and she was spiraling.

The door creaked open next to her. She didn’t have to look. His presence pressed against her like gravity.

She heard the flick of the lighter first, then caught the faint scent of his cologne mixed with smoke. He stepped into her peripheral, leaned against the wall beside her, cigarette between his fingers.

“You stalking me now?” She asked, arms folding tightly across her chest like a shield.

“I know you’d love that.” He replied easily, not even looking at her as he exhaled a slow breath of smoke.

She glanced over at him. “Where’s your date?”

“In the bathroom, I think. Not really keeping track.” His voice was low, indifferent, but she heard the edge in it.

“How considerate of you.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him, humorless and dry.

“I could say the same about you,” he said, turning to look at her now. His eyes were darker in the dim light, flicking down her body before settling back on her face. “Your date’s still in there, while you’re out here. With me.”

“I’m not with you,” she snapped. “You followed me.”

Eric smirked and shrugged unbothered. “Didn’t hear you telling me to leave.”

The silence that followed was thick, tense, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

She looked away, jaw tightening, then said, more quietly, “You ruin everything.”

“Yeah?” he stepped closer, voice softer, rougher. “Or maybe I just make it harder to pretend.”

She hated how true that sounded.

“I had a nice night,” she muttered. “I was having fun.”

“I saw that.” He took a slow drag of his cigarette. “Almost believed it.”

She turned to him then, heat rising in her cheeks. “Not everything’s about you, Eric.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. Then, casually, he tossed the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You know what? Go back to your date.”

“I could,” he said, pulling something from behind him and tossing it her way.

She caught it midair, it was a helmet, one she hadn’t seen him holding up to that moment considering how on edge she was.

“What’s this?”

“Truce,” he said and nodded toward the street, where his motorbike sat gleaming under a flickering street lamp. “One night. No arguments. No games. Just fun. Unless you’re scared.”

She scoffed. “Of you? Please.”

He held her gaze. “Then get on.”

Y/N stared at him, helmet in hand, heart thudding. This was stupid. This was reckless. This was exactly the kind of night that would turn into a memory you wouldn’t know what to do with. But he was already waiting, already revving the engine like he knew she’d say yes.

She stared at him and before she could stop herself, she followed him. “You think riding off with you into the night is gonna fix whatever the hell this is?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, voice dropping. “But it’ll feel good.”

She cursed under her breath, shoved the helmet on, and swung her leg over the bike.

“Where are we going?” she asked over the roar of the engine.

He glanced over his shoulder, grin audible in his voice. “Wherever you loosen up.”

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 4

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

Two posts in a day, that’s a record for me! I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think it’s happening between them, I’ll see you in the next one!!

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

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

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

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

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

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

End of Author’s note.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined, warm and impossibly slow at first, like he was learning her mouth one breath at a time. The moment she kissed him, the rest of the world blurred. Nothing else mattered except the taste of him and the way one of his hands slid into her hair pulling her closer.

His other hand slid from her waist to her lower back, pulling her under him with both tenderness and possession that made her breath catch. The mattress shifted, creaked beneath the slow, deliberate press of his body on top of hers.

His mouth claimed hers with a hunger she’d never imagined he’d show her. Not like this. Not to her. She gasped into the kiss, and he swallowed the sound, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to feel her soft skin under his touch. Her legs parted, welcoming the weight of him between them, and his hips sank lower, grinding slowly into hers like he wanted to give her a small taste of how he’d do it.

She moaned at the feeling of his bulge against her core and he kissed her harder. His teeth grazed her bottom lip. She arched beneath him, fingers twisting into his hair as the kiss turned desperate, messy, real. Way too real.

“Y/N.” 

Eric’s voice was distant, but then when he called her again it got clearer.

“Y/N.”

Her eyes snapped open and reality crashed over her. The room was still, quiet, lightly illuminated by the first shy rays of sun coming from behind the curtains. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her chest rose and fell too fast.

She turned her head and found him there. Propped up on one elbow beside her. His green eyes were filled with concern and his free hand rested on her waist just like in the beginning of her dream.

“You okay?” Eric whispered lowly, voice hoarse with sleep.

“W-what? Why?” Was all she could muster as she too was trying to understand what was real and what wasn’t.

“You were calling my name,” he said, voice lower now, gentle. “Kinda like… you were out of breath.”

She blinked and her eyes widened. Her lips still tingled and she could feel her cheeks getting beet-red at the realization that she was having a wet dream with Eric, and to make things even worse, she was calling for him in real life.

She tried to answer, but the words stuck somewhere between her chest and throat.

He watched her for a beat, brows drawing together. “Nightmare?”

No, she thought. Worse. She gave a small shake of her head and tugged at her blanket at the same time she squeezed her legs together, trying - and failing - to dull the ache between them. “No. Just… Weird dream.”

Eric was way too sleepy to read deeper into the situation, so he just gave up on pushing any further and laid back down, getting ready to sleep again.

Y/N laid frozen under the covers long after Eric’s breathing slowed again beside her.

The dream clung to her like smoke, curling into the corners of her mind no matter how hard she tried to shake it. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel the weight of him, the heat between their bodies, the way he kissed her like he wanted to devour her.

And god, at that very moment she wanted to be devoured by him.

The rest of the weekend blurred in a mess. She tried to act normal, or whatever that meant, but something had changed. In the way she didn’t get angry anymore when she caught him looking at her, in the way she now wanted to be seen by him and, specially, in the way she now waited eagerly for their next argument just to have him making a sassy, flirty remark towards her.

She was turning into what she swore, since high school, she’d never become: one of those Eric obsessed girls, and she hated herself when she realized that.

She’d laugh too loudly when someone else made a joke, just to fill the tension.

That dream made something shift inside of her. She was always aware that Eric affected her somehow, and she always thought it was some kind of negative and hurtful way, until that very fucking dream.

Now, she wasn’t so sure. 

And the worst part? He hadn’t changed. Not really. He was still cocky, infuriating, annoyingly charming. He still knew exactly how to push her buttons and smirk when she snapped back. But somewhere between their silent stares and the tight corners of shared space, something else had started to simmer.

Or maybe it had always been there. Maybe the hate was just smoke and this was the fire.

On the last morning, she packed her things in silence. Eric was in the kitchen with the others, half-listening to a story someone was telling, coffee mug in hand, hair still a mess from sleep. He laughed at something, and the sound twisted something low in her stomach. God, she hated him. She hated how good he looked when he was relaxed like that, completely unaware of the chaos he left behind in her head.

She said her goodbyes, lingering with Alex since it would be the last time in a long time they’d see each other, and then jumped into her car, eager to get away from that house, from him and the dream that still haunted her.

By the time she pulled into her apartment’s garage, she felt like she’d been holding her breath the whole way back.

She threw her bag in the corner of the room and collapsed onto her bed without changing. The sheets were cold. Nothing like the heat of that shared bed, or the ghost of a touch, or the promise of a kiss that had only existed in her mind, but felt more real than anything she’d known in a long time.

She must have been ovulating. It was the only plausible reason for her hyperfixation. The ovulation period did wonders to a woman’s mind and dignity so once it was gone she’d go back to normal, to despising his existence.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But later that night, when she stepped out of the shower, hair dripping, skin flushed and warm, she caught herself doing another thing she swore she wouldn’t.

She checked her phone.

No messages. No missed calls. No Eric.

She didn’t even have his number and he didn’t have hers, so it was obviously an impossible scenario.

Still, her fingers hovered over her screen like she expected something to appear. Something impulsive. Like did you sleep better without me? Or next time, try not to moan my name so loud when you dream about me.

She dropped the phone face-down on the bed, cursed under her breath. This wasn’t her. She didn’t dream about boys who used to make her life hell. She didn’t want them to do it all over again.

And yet, when she closed her eyes that night, he was already there, behind her eyelids, waiting for her in her sheets, marking her skin.

Closer - Bill Skarsgard x Reader (+18)

(The images above don’t belong to me, I only found them on Pinterest, all credits belong to their owner)

Author’s note:

Hello everyone, tiktok edits have been doing wonders to my imagination lately so I decided to bring this small idea I had to life, I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

Explicit mentions of smut.

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

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

Requests with Bill and Eric Draven are open, so feel free to reach out in my dm!

If you enjoy the story, please leave a comment, like and/or reblog ir, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing ❤️❤️❤️

WC: 1.5K

End of Author’s Note

The flash of cameras painted the night bright, relentless. Y/N stood a step behind her husband, her expression serene, composed, practiced to perfection. But inside? She was starving.

Y/N was in a dress that left very little room for imagination. Black satin, backless, halter neckline drawing the eye to her collarbones and the delicate dip between them. It clung to her waist, skimmed her hips, and opened up into a high slit that made it criminal for her to move too quickly. Elegant. Sexy. Just dangerous enough. Her hair was up, only a few loose curls framing her face, neck bare, skin glowing under the lights.

Bill moved through the crowd with that quiet confidence that made people stop mid-sentence just to watch him pass. He didn’t chase attention, he didn’t need to. Every autograph he signed, every brief glance he gave, every question he answered it was all so casual, so effortless.

She admired how he spoke, but what undid her were the little things he didn’t even realize he was doing. The subtle roll of his shoulders as he shifted from foot to foot, how the muscles in his jaw flexed slightly when he was thinking. The occasional scrape of his teeth against his bottom lip when he smiled.

To make things worse, he looked impossibly handsome tonight. His suit fitted like it had been made with only him in mind, hugging his broad shoulders and narrow waist perfectly, and its color, a chocolate-brown, highlighted his beautiful green eyes.

Y/N had a special obsession with his hands though. When he gestured mid-interview, fingers slightly splayed, palm up, she stared longer than she meant to. She couldn’t help it, it was like her body remembered before her brain could catch up. The way those hands had gripped her hips the night before, pressing her down into the sheets while she arched up into him, half-crying from how good he felt inside her. The way his thumb had circled her clit, slow and heavy, like he had all the time in the world. The way he had held her throat, not to hurt her, but to own her when she shattered around him.

Her thighs discreetly pressed together. God, if she could just grab him by the collar and pull him behind the nearest curtain, she would. Let them hear. Let them wonder.

He moved again, flashing a small smile at a reporter, head tilting in that way he did when he was listening intently. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Just a quick thing, thoughtless. But again it hit her like a goddamn truck and her stomach twisted with need.

She could barely breathe from how much she wanted him. And then his eyes found hers, for just one second, maybe two. He met her stare and let his gaze fall to the slit in her dress and then rise to her red lips, earning her a small smirk that lasted for only a beat on his own before he drove his attention back to the journalists.

It was a warning. Bill knew exactly what she had in mind, he could feel it coming from her by the way her eyes were practically burning holes in him.

Y/N swallowed hard, looking away before she did something reckless. Like dropping to her knees and choking on his cock in front of everyone.

The premiere dragged on, just like the after party. Y/N usually enjoyed attending those events, but tonight she just wanted to go home.

She felt like she was glowing from the inside out. Not from the camera flashes, not from the praise and polite greetings whispered to her like she was some rare thing by the people they passed, but from the sheer, unrelenting desire pulling at every nerve in her body. Her skin felt tight, her breath shallow behind the soft smile she kept perfectly in place. She mingled when needed, answered questions when spoken to, posed at his side like she belonged there. But her eyes kept drifting back to him. Always.

Bill leaned against the balcony rail, listening to someone with his usual poise, nodding occasionally, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a whiskey glass. And all she could think about was how those fingers felt inside her, lazily curling as he watched her fall apart, the low murmur of his voice talking her through every wave of it, “I know, baby, I know” - the memory of his own words making her shiver.

God, she was going to combust.

She caught him watching her again once or twice, ever for long, just long enough to make her burn.

By the time the party began to thin out and goodbyes were being exchanged, she was practically vibrating. His hand landed at the small of her back as they left, a light touch, gentlemanly. But even that was enough to make her stomach flip.

The car was waiting and Bill opened the passenger door for her, flashing her that look again, one that only just hinted at what was underneath. She slid in, crossed her legs slowly, and caught the slight hitch in his breath as her thigh peeked through the slit of her dress again.

Once on the road, silence filled the car and felt like a time ticking bomb ready to explode.

Y/N stared at him, at the way his long fingers wrapped firmly around the steering wheel, the way the tendons in his hand shifted slightly and the way his signature rings eventually glimmered under the street lights.

Her eyes dropped to his lips and her thoughts wandered to how that mouth, currently unspeaking, had worshiped every inch of her body.

His jaw was tight, his focus locked on the road. But it wasn’t the kind of concentration that came from needing to drive carefully, it was something else. She could feel it. How his entire body was wired for tension and calm at the same time, like a wolf in a tuxedo.

That control, that restraint. Despite his stoic poise, she knew he was also struggling and maybe, just maybe, if he wasn’t a public person, he’d pull the car over and have his way with her right on the street. The big bulge strained by his pants only confirmed that.

She couldn’t look away.

Her fingers curled tightly in her lap and she bit her bottom lip, trying to ground herself. Trying not to let the sound of the engine rumbling beneath them feed into the fantasy playing out in her head. One where he’d bend her over and fuck her senseless. She swallowed, hard.

“We’re almost home.” He glanced at her sideways with a knowing smirk.

His voice was low and casual, almost amused. Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth had gone dry the moment he moved his free hand to adjust his cock inside his pants.

She clenched her thighs, barely breathing, her pulse thudding loud in her ears. His scent drifted over with every breath of shared air, clean skin, expensive cologne, a trace of smoke and something so uniquely him that always made her ache.

She reached for the hem of her dress, smoothing it slowly along her thigh as if that would somehow help. It didn’t. Nothing could help the wildfire under her skin now.

One of Bill’s hands rested on her left thigh, squeezing it slightly and she nearly whimpered.

He didn’t look at her, not yet. Just sat there, completely composed, his thumb drawing small circles on her skin.

By the time they reached their house, she was trembling.

He parked, cut the engine and then he turned in his seat, one hand resting on the wheel, the other still on her thigh, green eyes meeting hers with deliberate slowness as he gave her a tight squeeze.

She stared back at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted, dress riding scandalously high as he leaned in just enough that his voice came out in a demanding whisper.

“Inside.”

That was all he said, but it was all she needed.

She didn’t wait for him to open her door. Y/N stepped out on shaky legs, the night air doing nothing to cool the fever burning beneath her skin. Bill was already rounding the car, his movements controlled but urgent, tension humming off of him in waves.

The front door clicked shut behind them and then came the sound: his belt hitting the floor.

She turned to look at him and in two strides, he had her pinned against the wall, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her thigh and dragging it up around his waist. His mouth hovered just over hers, breath hot, eyes dark, chest rising hard against her.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at me all night?”

His hand slid higher up her thigh, fingers grazing dangerously close to where she was already dripping for him.

“The way your eyes begged me to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you forgot your own name?”

She whimpered when pressed his hips into hers.

“Now I’m going to do every filthy thing I’ve been thinking about since the second you stepped out in that dress…”

He paused, his breath catching slightly as he looked at her, devouring her with his eyes.

“And I won’t stop until you can’t remember what it feels like not to be full of me.”

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

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

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

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

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

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

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

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

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

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

End of Author’s note.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I doubt that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch stole my look”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

Y/N choked on her sip. “Jesus, Alex.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Too late, you’re already doing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her friend nudged her gently with her elbow.

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

Y/N groaned softly into her wine glass.

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

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

“That too.”

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

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

Matt raised his glass.

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

There was a scattered chorus of half-drunken agreements.

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

“Fine. Hit me.”

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

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

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

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

“Truth”

“Who here seems the most boring in bed?”

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

“Y/N,” he said, too easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dare.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You surprise me,” he said finally.

Her shoulders tensed. “That a bad thing?”

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

And there it was.

Her eyes narrowed. “Prude?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stared at him, lips parted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stepped forward slowly.

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

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

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“You look ridiculous on this tiny couch.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t come to apologize.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

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

He didn’t move.

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

“That’s your version of an apology?”

“Don’t push it, Draven.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You keep surprising me.”

She smiled into her pillow, quiet and unbothered.

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 2

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

Summary:

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

Author’s note:

Thank you very much to everyone who liked, shared and commented on the first part, it makes me so so so happy and so hyped that I already got the second part down for you, have fun 🫶🏻

Tags: @malenoradgn @muchwita

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

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

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

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

This is a AU Eric Draven!!!

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

End of Author’s note.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, two narrow lanes cutting through forests dense enough to block out half the sun. Y/N tapped the steering wheel to the beat of whatever song was playing, though she hadn’t really heard a single note. Her focus had been splintered since the wedding. Or more accurately, since she saw him again after so many years.

She took another sip of her now watery iced coffee and sighed. She knew this weekend was a terrible idea, but still she couldn’t say no to one of her closest friends.

Alex, the bride from the wedding, would move abroad with her now husband Jeff in a couple of days so they set up a post-wedding getaway at a lake house with their closest and oldest friends. Y/N and Eric were part of that inner circle, she on Alex’s side and Eric on Jeff’s.

“Everyone’s coming,” her friend had said a few days before, eyes too bright, voice too innocent. “It’ll be a couples’ trip, kind of. You’ll have so much fun you won’t even remember he’s around”

That’s what she said, followed just by a winking and heart emoji in the bridesmaids group chat and a time to show up.

Y/N had wanted to go, truthfully. She liked the idea of quiet mornings, barbecue afternoons and wine nights by the lake, nostalgia with old friends. And she liked everyone who’d be there, except him, but she would survive, she’s been through worse moments in her life for sure. 

Two more miles and she’d be at the lake house. Stuck for a weekend with Eric. Possibly sleeping on a couch or, if she was unlucky, across the hall from him.

The house was beautiful. Lakeside, two stories, all wooden yet modern, huge windows and wrap-around porches. She pulled up behind three other cars, already recognizing a few from the wedding.

Laughter drifted from the back deck. Music hummed low and someone had already taken over the grill, the delicious smell of barbecue dancing in the air.

And when the front door creaked open, there Alex was, glowing as usual, barefoot and smug.

“You made it!” her friend beamed, running down the steps.

“Of course I did, anything for you” They hugged tightly “I’ll miss you so much”

“That’ll be just another reason for you to come visit us soon”

They laughed it off and for a second it was easy again. Easy to forget why her stomach was so tight on her way there.

Inside, the house was all warm lighting and rustic luxury. A candle burned faintly somewhere, citrus and cedar. People moved in and out of rooms with drinks in hand, and someone yelled from the kitchen asking if anyone wanted a beer.

“You’ve got the room upstairs at the end of the hall,” her friend said, grabbing her bag like a helpful angel. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Y/N followed without hesitation, until they reached the room and she saw another duffel bag already sitting by the bed.

She stopped by the door. “Wait… Whose stuff is that?”

Alex blinked innocently, but miserably failing to hide a devious smirk. “Oh. Eric’s.”

Y/N laughed. It was the kind of laugh you let out when you think someone’s joking but you’re already sweating. “No, seriously.”

“He’s your roommate,” Alex said sweetly. “We ran out of space. You’re the only two single ones… A weekend won’t kill you.”

Y/N stared, but her friend was already backing away, her smile unwavering. “Just don’t kill each other. Or do. I don’t care. Lunch’s in an hour!”

And with that, she was gone.

Y/N stood there for a full five seconds, willing herself not to lose it, until she felt a presence lingering around.

“Well,” a voice drawled from behind her, smooth as ever. “You didn’t think you’d have this huge bed all to yourself, did you?”

She turned slowly. Eric leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, the tattoos on his arms on full display. His shirt clung slightly from the heat outside, and his shit-eating grin made her want to throw something at him.

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”

He smirked. “What, afraid you’ll dream about me?”

“I’ve had worse nightmares”

“Fair,” he said, stepping past her and tossing himself onto the bed like he owned it. “I’ll take the left side. Unless that’s a problem, princess.”

She rolled her eyes at the situation and, mostly, at the ridiculous nickname. “Fine.”

“And don’t worry, I won’t tempt you by any means, you’re not my type”

She gritted her teeth, eyes flicking over him like he was a stain on otherwise perfect sheets. 

“Even if I was, I don’t waste my time with small dicks”

Eric stilled, then let out an amused chuckle.

“Sounds like someone’s had a string of disappointments.” He got up from the bed and stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough that it curled against her skin. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep.”

~0~

Lunch was loud, hazy with sun and summer air. People lounged with plates of grilled food, the smell of charred meat and spices curling around the deck. Glasses clinked, laughter bubbled, and someone was already half a bottle into tequila by the time she stepped outside.

She kept to the edge of the group, sipping slowly, sunglasses on. 

Eric wandered out of the kitchen, bottle of beer in hand, his voice easy and charming as he joked with someone behind him. And when he finally stepped onto the deck and shrugged off his shirt like it was nothing, her glass nearly slipped in her hand and her throat went dry.

As far as she remembered, he was just a tall skinny teenager back then. But now? His body had no business looking like that. 

Tattoos ran down his arms, chest and abs that were sharp enough to cut glass. But it was the one on his lower stomach that gave her pause, from afar it looked like a black centipede inked just above his waistband, its segmented body vanishing beneath his shorts.

He tipped the beer to his lips, throat working with each swallow. And then he looked at her. Straight at her and didn’t look away, a knowing smile curling up the corners of his lips.

She rolled her eyes immediately, pretending she hadn’t noticed. Pretending the blush across her chest was caused by a sunburn. She turned away, busying herself with whatever appetizer tray was closest.

As the afternoon went on the group moved toward the lake. Swimsuits on and clothes off, towels were slung over shoulders, and someone cranked the volume on the speaker. 

Y/N took off her clothes and revealed her white - and maybe a little too small - bikini, and headed toward the dock with her friends.

Eric had been mid-conversation when he spotted her and suddenly, he wasn’t saying a word. His eyes dragged over her like a starved man, shamelessly, not bothering to hide how stunned he was by her and her body.

His thoughts wandered over her curves and for a moment, he thought about all the ways he could fuck that sassiness out of her, before his friend brought him back to the conversation.

In the distance, Y/N smirked to herself, she could feel his gaze burning on her but she paid him no mind, after all, he could never and would never have her.

She laughed at something her friend said, slipping her feet into the cool water as she sat on the edge of the dock. The lake glowed gold beneath the setting sun, and for a while, the tension beneath her skin felt distant, almost forgettable.

Almost. She didn’t have to look to know he was still watching. She could feel it, thick as the heat in the air, dragging across her bare skin like a touch that hadn’t happened yet.

So she smiled. Just a little. Just for herself. Because the sun was dipping lower, the drinks were flowing, they still had a long night ahead, and something told her it was going to be a very interesting night.

Beg For Me - Bill Skarsgard x Reader (+18)

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

Author’s note:

Hello my loves, I’m back again and this time you’ll be having Bill on his knees for you… Hope you all enjoy it 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

Smut (this is practically a pwp tbh). Unprotected p in v (wrap it up in real life). Bondage. Sensorial play. Hand job. Oral (m! Receiving).

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

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

I hope you enjoy this story, requests with Bill are open so if you have any ideas I’m all ears!

Please feel free to leave a comment, like and/or reblog the story, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing ❤️❤️❤️

WC: 3.5K

Tag request: @muchwita

End of Author’s Note

-0-

The first message came in while you were still at work.

“I’d have you bent over my lap right now if I could.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted, warmth spreading through you at just the thought.

Then, another.

“Wouldn’t stop until your legs are shaking. Until you’re dripping for me.”

Your breath hitched. Bill had been out of town for days, but distance clearly wasn’t keeping him from getting under your skin. You hadn’t seen him in nearly a week, but now that he was finally coming home, he was determined to make you feel his absence.

The next message had a picture: his hand, gripping himself over his jeans, thumb teasing at the waistband like he might pull them down.

And then the real one hit: a video.

His cock was out, thick and hard in his fist, stroking himself slowly, just enough to tease, to make you watch. His thumb slicked over the tip, a sharp inhale slipping through the recording.

Another message followed.

“I’d be inside you by now. You’d be soaked, dripping down my cock. Bet you’d be begging for me to make you come.”

Your stomach clenched. Heat curled low in your belly, sharp and instant. You exhaled, steadying yourself to keep your facade at work as you tried to ignore the ache settling deep in your core.

Bastard.

He kept going, text after text, describing everything he would do to you when he got back. The way he’d have you spread out beneath him. How he’d hold you down, leave you breathless, push you to the edge until you were too wrecked to do anything but moan his name, fully at his mercy.

But by the time you left work, your patience had snapped and now you were taking over that game.

-0-

The apartment was dark, save for the glow of candlelight flickering against the walls. Everything had been arranged, the candles, the silk ties resting on the bed. The final touch, a note taped to the front door at eye level:

“Bedroom. Clothes off. Sit. Wait. Don’t touch.”

It didn’t take long and the front door creaked open. A small pause. Then came the sound of rustling fabric - his jacket sliding off, the clink of his belt undone. Footsteps making their way toward the bedroom, where you waited for him.

When he stepped into the bedroom, he froze as his gaze locked on you instantly.

His eyes dragged over you slowly. Black lace hugged your curves in all the right places, high heels accentuating the sharp lines of your legs. Candlelight caught in your hair and glinted against your glossed lips.

His jaw tightened and you could see it in his eyes, the hunger, the way his body went tense, ready to close the distance between you, but he decided to play along and finished undressing in front of you, just like instructed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick.

“Sit.”

He narrowed his eyes lightly before obeying, curious as to what you had in mind.

He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, thighs spread, muscles coiled tight and his already hard cock resting against his lower abs. His hands pressed against the sheets, but the tension in them was obvious, like he was barely holding himself back.

You stepped between his legs and his chin tilted up to meet your gaze, his green eyes blown wide, dark and wanting.

But you wouldn’t give it to him yet. You lifted one foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against his chest, just enough to make him lay onto the bed, arms splayed wide, breath unsteady.

Then you climbed onto the bed and hovered over him, the sight of your breasts so close to his face taunting him as he tried to keep in mind he couldn’t touch you.

“You spent all day telling me what you’d do to me,” you murmured, your lips almost brushing against his. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t have something to say about that?”

His chest rose sharply, his hands flexing against the sheets.

“Let’s see how much begging you end up doing tonight.”

His breath got heavier now, full of anticipation. You were so close, your perfume curled through the air between you, making his head swim. If he angled his face just right, his lips would graze the soft skin of your throat.

So Bill tried.

His hands flexed against the sheets, control slipping, as he lifted his head just enough to brush his lips over your collarbone. Just the smallest touch, he needed it.

But you were quicker. Your fingers curled into his hair and pulled on it, the sharp tug forcing him back down against the mattress.

“I said no touching” you murmured teasingly, with a playful smirk on your lips.

His jaw clenched. His chest rose, fell and rose again, his body already wound too tight, already desperate for you, after all his own teasing throughout the day also got him affected. But you were in control now, and the flicker of amusement in your eyes told him you were enjoying this.

He swallowed hard, muscles twitching with restraint as you slid further up the bed, your hands gliding over his arms, guiding him backwards until his back met the pillows and his head rested against the headboard.

“Give me your hands” you ordered and he complied.

He lifted his arms above his head, stretching them toward the headboard. His well defined biceps flexed as he let them rest there, leaving himself fully at your disposal.

The second his wrists made contact with the cool wood, you shifted on the bed. You reached out for one of his own ties and looped it around his wrist with practiced ease, the smooth fabric a deceptive contrast to the way you pulled it tight, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

His throat bobbed with a swallow, his green eyes locked on yours, burning through you as you repeated the process on his other wrist. Another tie. Another knot.

You bit your bottom lip as you admired your own work. “You look so good like this.”

His fingers curled into fists and his breath was uneven.

“You won’t be saying that when I get my hands on you,” he muttered, voice thick with heat.

But you only smiled, a devious smirk playing on your lips as you leaned your face closer to his one last time.

“And who said you’ll be getting your hands on me at all?”

A wicked glint flickered in your eyes as you reached for the small bowl on the nightstand, a bowl he hadn’t noticed was there before. His gaze followed your movements expectantly, but he said nothing, only watched.

The first touch of ice against his collarbone made him flinch and inhale sharply, muscles flexing beneath the melting cube as you dragged it slowly down his chest.

“You seem tense,” you murmured, watching a droplet slip down the ridges of his stomach. You leaned in, following the same path with your tongue, the warmth of your mouth chasing away the cold.

Bill groaned, his jaw clenching as his fingers curled into fists above his head. You did it again, pressing the ice against his heated skin, then licking and suckling away the damp trail, your tongue flicking over his nipple just to watch his stomach tense.

“Fuck” His voice was tight.

You smiled, dragging the ice lower and over the ridges of his abs, down the sharp line of his hip bone.

He sucked in a breath, anticipation thick in the air as you let the ice melt just above his cock, a single drop slipping down to his length. His hips jerked up, chasing sensation, but you pulled away, a small hum of disapproval leaving your lips.

“Still so impatient.”

His eyes were dark now, pupils blown wide with need. But you weren’t done playing.

You put the ice cube away and slid lower, your breath hot against his inner thighs. His cock twitched, eagerly waiting but you only kissed the inside of his knee softly and then higher, your lips ghosting along the sensitive skin, tongue flicking out on his inner thighs just enough to tease him.

His breath stuttered.

And when he thought you’d wrap your lips around his cock you pulled back completely.

A frustrated growl rumbled in his throat, his head tilting back against the headboard as he tried to get himself under control.

“You…”

You only smirked. “Did you really think I’d make it that easy?”

His chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. “You are fucking evil.”

You just laughed, climbing back up his body, pressing your palm to his stomach, feeling the way it tightened beneath your touch as you grazed your nails over his abs.

When your hands found his cock, you wrapped them around it and the sound Bill made was nearly guttural.

Your grip was firm, just enough pressure to drive him insane as you collected the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb and spread it over its soft head in light circular movements.

Your hands started to pump him in the rhythm you knew drove him insane and you reveled in the sight before you: Bill tied up completely at your mercy, brows furrowed and lips parted as his eyes were fixed on your hands working on his cock.

His hips jerked up, seeking more and you knew by watching him that it was him chasing his high, but that only made you slow down, your thumb circling over the swollen leaking tip again, teasing, taunting. His muscles locked and his fingers curled against the headboard in frustration.

“Not yet,” you whispered.

His head snapped up, wild frustration in his eyes. “You can’t just…”

Your pace slowed even more, barely there now, and his words cut off with a sharp inhale.

“Oh, but I can.”

His breath was ragged, his body straining, fighting against the need to get free from the ties restraining him. But you didn’t stop, you resumed your previous ministrations, hands pumping up and down, wrists twisting in opposite directions to add an extra layer of stimulation and you could feel him throbbing and thickening in your hands.

But then again you didn’t let him fall over the edge. Just kept him right there, stuck, desperate, a wreck beneath your touch as you let go of him.

Bill nearly lost his mind. A rough sound tore from his throat as his hips lifted, searching, needing.

But you were already leaning back, taking your panties and bra off as you sat on the bed in from of him, your legs spread wide open allowing him full view of your pussy.

His gaze snapped to you, wild and starving as you slid one of your hands down your body, fingers dipping between your folds.

“I’m so soaked,” you breathed, your voice dripping with wicked satisfaction as his green eyes were almost fully black as he drank in the sight of you.

You moaned, head tipping back, putting on a show just for him, knowing exactly what you were doing. His jaw clenched as he pulled at the restraints, a frustrated growl leaving his lips, but his reaction only fueled you.

“Bet you wish it was you,” you teased, sliding your fingers deep inside your cunt, voice breathy and full of sin.

“Fucking untie me,” he ground out.

You moaned louder, fingers moving slick and slow as your other hand traced up your own body, teasing your breast, your hard nipple trapped between your fingers.

You only let your legs fall open wider, back arching as you toyed with your clit, your breath catching as pleasure bloomed under your own hand.

The sight was devastating and he couldn’t look away. His cock pulsed and ached, his pleasure denied while you brought yourself to the edge right in front of him. Every moan, every roll of your hips was for him, but not his to touch.

You knew that would make him lose his mind and the way his chest heaved up and down only confirmed it.

You rolled your hips against your hand, your fingers hitting just the right spot as your moans turned breathless, erratic. You could feel it building, heat tightening deep inside, the teasing edge finally giving way to something sharp and consuming.

“Oh fuck, Bill!” You gasped, legs trembling as your orgasm crashed through you like a wave. Your back arched, head thrown back, mouth parted in a cry that was nothing short of obscene.

He stared, utterly wrecked by the scene in front of him. His wrists strained against the ties, jaw locked tight, eyes wide with something between desperation and reverence.

He watched every second of your undoing, every shiver, every breathless twitch, and it broke him a little more.

When you finally stilled, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, a slow, satisfied smile curved your lips.

Still pulsing with the aftershocks, you dragged your fingers from between your thighs, slick with your release, and crawled up the bed like a predator. His arms stretched above him, muscles tense, eyes locked on you as if you were the only thing keeping him sane.

You hovered over his chest, slow and deliberate, your slick fingers held just above his mouth.

“Open,” you said, voice low and commanding.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips parted instantly.

“Good boy.”

You slipped your fingers into his mouth, watching his eyes flutter shut as he sucked your release off your skin, tongue curling around each digit like he’d been starving for it. A filthy groan slipped from deep in his throat.

“You taste that?” You purred, leaning down to brush your lips against his ear. “That’s what you’re missing out on.”

You pulled your fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, his tongue chasing the taste as his eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. He was so far gone already and you weren’t even finished with him yet.

“Poor thing,” you murmured, trailing your fingers down his chest, letting your nails scrape lightly across his skin. His abs tensed beneath your touch, every muscle in his body drawn taut like a wire. “So hard it must hurt.”

His cock twitched against his stomach at your words, swollen, flushed, and leaking, so desperate for attention it nearly made you pity him.

Nearly.

You moved lower, dragging your body down his until you were eye-level with his cock, heat radiating off him in waves. You pressed a kiss to the base of his shaft and he hissed, hips jerking slightly before you laid a firm hand on his thigh to pin him still.

“Stay.”

His groan was low and broken. “Please…”

You gave him no warning. Your mouth wrapped around him, warm and wet, taking him deep with a slow, filthy slide that made his head slam back against the headboard.

“Fucking, fuck!” He choked out, voice raw.

You hummed around him, letting the vibrations drag another curse from his lips. You bobbed your head slowly, sucking him in and pulling off with obscene sounds, letting your tongue lap at the tip, flicking across the most sensitive spot until he was trembling under your hands.

“Oh my… Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” he pleaded, thighs quivering under your palms as you took him down your throat.

You didn’t stop, but you didn’t speed up either. You kept your pace deliberate, torturous, tongue swirling around the head of his cock while you stroked the rest with your hand before you swallowed him whole again. He was right there. You could feel it, taste it in the way he pulsed against your tongue, the way his breathing fractured.

His entire body went stiff, his moans were wrecked and desperate. He was right on the edge.

So you stopped. Your mouth slipped off him with a soft pop. You blew a gentle breath over the tip, smirking when he nearly sobbed.

“Not like this,” you whispered, climbing back up his body.

“Please,” he gasped. “I can’t…”

You kissed him then, slow and deep, letting him taste himself on your tongue as you straddled him.

You leaned back slightly, your eyes meeting his.

“You’ve been so good,” you said softly, praising him. “Such a good boy for me.”

He stared up at you, wrecked and waiting, his wrists still bound to the headboard, chest rising with uneven breaths as you rolled your hips, your wet pussy coating his cock with your arousal.

You lifted your hips just enough to align his tip with your entrance, then slowly sank down onto his cock. The sound he made wasn’t human.

A guttural moan ripped from his throat as your tight heat swallowed him inch by inch, your slick walls gripping him so perfectly he couldn’t breathe. His fingers clenched uselessly in the restraints, head thrown back, throat exposed as he completely unraveled beneath you.

“Fuuuck” he groaned, voice dragged and wrecked.

You stilled once you were fully seated, taking a breath as the stretch hit you, delicious and full. He filled you in every way, so deep, so hard, your own eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

Then you leaned forward, your mouth brushing his ear.

“Now,” you whispered, voice like velvet, “you can come.”

You started to ride him, slow at first, then faster, harder, grinding down with every thrust, watching him come apart beneath you, no restraint left, no control, all yours.

You bounced on him, your hands pressed to his chest for leverage as you rolled your hips faster, chasing the high now pulsing through both of you. Every slide of his cock dragged against your walls, hitting the perfect spot again and again, your slick sounds mingling with his ragged gasps and broken groans.

His face contorted in pleasure, sweat beading along his brow. He couldn’t look away from you, your body riding him like a dream, your lips parted as soft moans spilled out, your eyes locked onto his, commanding and adoring all at once.

“I-I’m close…” He warned, voice strangled, like he was unraveling from the inside out.

“I know,” you whispered, grinding down harder, letting your hips circle as you clenched around him, milking every sound from his throat. “I can feel it. Give it to me, you’ve earned it.”

That broke him.

With a shuddering cry, his body snapped. His hips jerked up helplessly, cock buried deep as he came hard inside you, his moans raw and desperate, your name falling from his lips like worship.

The heat of it, the way he trembled beneath you, the wrecked look in his eyes, it sent you straight over the edge with him.

Your orgasm hit hard again, its electric waves blinding you as you came undone on top of him. Your head tipped back, thighs shaking as you ground down on him, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you cried out, overwhelmed by the pleasure ripping through you again.

You collapsed over him, your forehead against his, both of you gasping for air as aftershocks trembled through your bodies.

Neither of you spoke at first. You just breathed each other in, his skin, his warmth, the familiar thud of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

You reached up lazily to untie his wrists, and the second the restraints loosened, his hands dropped to your back. One drifted into your hair, the other slid down to your hip, holding you to him like he never wanted to let go.

“Holy fuck,” he rasped, voice ragged from moaning, from begging, from needing you. “This way you’re gonna kill me one day.”

You smiled, nuzzling your nose against his neck, lips brushing his skin. “You’ll die happy, though.”

He chuckled, low and breathless, the sound vibrating through your body. “No doubt.”

You shifted slightly, still seated on him, your bodies still joined. His hands tightened on you like he didn’t want to lose the connection, and neither did you. That fullness, that intimacy, it was more than just physical. It was everything. It was home.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “The messages were torture for me too. Seeing you like that, feeling you again…” His thumb stroked your lower back, slow and adoring. “Fuck, baby. You own me.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, your smile softening, your fingertips brushing along his jaw. “You’ve always been mine.”

The way he looked at you, like nothing else in the world existed, made your chest ache.

Still inside you, still tangled together in candlelight and sweat and silk, he leaned up just enough to kiss you. Not desperate now. Not greedy. Just full of love.

The kind that burned slow and deep.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I know,” you whispered back, smiling. “And I love how fucking wrecked you look right now.”

He groaned, laughing as he pulled you down into his arms again, his hands roaming your back with that familiar, grounding touch. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered. “If you start something, I’m not stopping till sunrise.”

You smirked into his skin. “Then we better hydrate.”

And together, you melted into the mattress, tangled in each other, limbs lazy and warm, every inch of tension gone, because you didn’t need anything else. Just this. Just him. Just you. Always.

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Always have in mind that MOST of the stories in this blog are VERY smutty!!!

BILL SKARSGARD:

Cleanse Me With Pleasure - part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Beg For Me

Bite Me (Eric Draven) - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 (on going)

Closer

Video Games - part 1 | part 2

NOAH SEBASTIAN:

Take Me Back To Eden

Chokehold

The Death Of Piece Of Mind

Just Pretend

Pretty When You Cry

JAVIER PEÑA (Pedro Pascal):

Good Girl Gone Bad

Blue Jeans

TILL LINDEMANN:

Sinful Revenge

Temptation - part 1

Temptation - part 2

Requests are currently OPEN with Bill Skarsgard only!!!