Bill Skarsgård • Roman Godfrey Imagines

•Roman•

Nsfw~ cunnilingus~blowjobs~zaddy kink~size kink

He is a slender, broad bulk of shadow in the corner of your bedroom, the moonlight bleeding through your thin lace curtains and casting a ghostly, elegant pattern onto the surface of your floor from where you lie.

You are almost too scared to reach out for him, in fear that maybe it might be a monster lurking near your bed, instead.

But as his gratuitously large hands reach out to cup the warm cherub of your cheeks, your bones begin to feel warm with the overwhelming buzz of familiarity.

"Kiss me."

Your voice is small in the quiet of your room, but savory is the sound that leaves your throat as he finally presses his plump pair of lips to your trembling ones, a side effect of his presence that has yet to wear off.

He is too good at the most simple of guilty pleasures and it causes you to claw at the solid, broad expanse of his shoulders, beckoning him to come closer closer closer.

He finally manages to get all four of his long, rarely inelegant limbs onto your queen sized matress, his bony knees on either side of your hips, securing you underneath your comforter.

But soon, after his tongue laps the roof of your mouth, your body heats up to a sweltering degree and you are scrambling to remove the blanket from stop of you, a groan leaving his throat as he sits back on his heels for merely a few seconds to allow you to uncover.

And then he's back on you like a bird to its prey, his nose pressed against yours as your mouths move in a synchronization that he knows is only leaving you desperate for more more more.

But when he reaches between the warm dough of your thighs to feel the sticky slickness that has your underwear clinging to your pussy lips, he finds himself salivating at the thought of getting to taste your honey right from the source.

He leaves a hot, wet trail of sloppy kisses down the pulsing expanse of your neck, his palms kneading your breasts with a roughness that has you keening into his touch.

He groans as he grips the back of your thighs and shoves his head underneath your nightgown, nose pressed against your center.

You gasp, heat scorching every inch of your skin to a numbing degree at the prospect of him being so close to such an intimate area, despite the fact that he has probably seen everything you are, in every way imaginable.

And he feeds off of it, the fact that you are his, and his alone. It's a sick, satisfactory type of arrogance that makes his dick stiff in his jeans at the sound of you whining just from feeling his warm puff of breath against your sopping, sensitive center.

"I know baby, I got you."

There is a haze to his cadence as he speaks, lust and desire pumping through his system, heightening his senses to a level that causes him to salivate.

He peels your panties off of you and savors the way your wetness clings to the fabric in strings, letting the garment fall to your ankles after descends from the bend of your knees.

He pulls them off and stuffs them in his back pocket, your eyes widening with an emotion that is close to embarrassment. It only causes you to grow more sensitive and swollen by the seconds, hips lifting on their own accord as he hooks his strong, lithe arms around your hips to secure you to the matress.

"M'gonna make you feel good," He mumbles against your inner thighs, loose strands of his hair tickling your belly the lower he descends.

"You're gonna give me my reward and come all over my face, isn't that right?"