dreamland (bill skarsgard one shots)

25. crimson fire - roman godfrey

WARNINGS: period sex, choking, overstimulation, oral.

EDIT: y'all really gotta learn to pay attention to these warnings. if period sex isn't your thing then ignore this chapter and don't comment something ridiculous lmaooo 💀 kink shaming is ugly. plus this is roman godfrey we're talking about. you can't be shocked when that bitch is into nasty shit and wants to eat his girl's pussy while she's on her period. anyway, carry on!

↭

"Let me have a taste."

His words spun through your head, weaving through your mind like a spider weaving its web. Your skin was hot to the touch. So hot, that you thought he'd burn himself when he touched you.

Fire. Beneath your skin, between your legs. Red hot. Red as blood. The blood that he could smell, the blood that he wanted so desperately to taste. You couldn't move, couldn't speak, could hardly breathe. Eyes so green stared into your own, picking apart the very soul of you, reading, calculating, discerning.

When he touched you, you gasped, an ache so intense blossoming between your legs, more intense than it had been moments before. His fingers trailed down, down, down, until...

"I'm starving. Please, just let me bury my face in that sweet sweet pussy. I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

It had all escalated so quickly. You'd been seated at the dinner table when he came home. He'd greeted you with a kiss and sat down beside you, where you asked him how his day had gone. He'd started to tell you, recounting the rough day he'd had, until he paused. His eyes met yours, and you looked at him questioningly as he breathed in through his nose, eyes fluttering shut promptly after.

"What?" You softly questioned.

He opened his eyes, leaning forward, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Not one of embarrassment, but one of arousal. "I can smell you," he spoke, voice low, breathless. "You're bleeding."

You swallowed, a pang running through your stomach. "Y-yeah. I started this morning."

Roman took another breath, nostrils flaring slightly. He reached for your hand atop the table, squeezing it tightly. Need washed over him, practically salivating at the thought of burying his face in your sensitive, crimson stained cunt. You, too, were growing warm. Suddenly, the fire burning in the fireplace was too warm, the air was stifling, your skin was hot.

"Let me have a taste."

"B-but, dinner-"

"Dinner can fucking wait. I need your fucking cunt in my mouth right now."

And so, after he'd managed to shove his fingers between your thighs and pull back with scarlet fingertips, he looked at you. "Stand up," he commanded.

You obeyed, doing so on legs that shook. He, too, stood, gazing down at you. "Go up to the bedroom, take off your clothes, and wait for me."

"Yes sir," you whispered, words nothing more than a wisp of breath slipping past your lips. You turned on your heel, making your way through the house, up the stairs, down the hall, to the bedroom. With hands that trembled, you began to remove your clothes. Pants, top, underwear, bra. They were all discarded, leaving you to stand there in the middle of the room, breathing rushed.