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skarsgazing · 4 months

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Obsidian - Chapter 1

In the dimly lit corridor, as her footsteps echoed through the walls, Mia contemplated the distance growing between her and the only life she had ever known. It wasn't just a geographical shift; it was a plunge into the unknown, a journey she didn't choose.

“You’re late,” a gray haired woman blasted as the door swung open, her eyes scrutinizing Mia from head to toe with an air of judgment.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find a ta-" Mia started, only to have a pile of clothes thrown at her, landing on her and cascading to the floor. “The hell?!”

“On set in 4 minutes. Third-floor room 7. Pick that up and bring the samples,” the older woman declared coldly before grabbing something and exiting the room.

Mia Hastings never quite fit the mold her family crafted for her. She wasn't easily defined, but it was clear what she wasn't: submissive and pliable. With flushed cheeks and a racing heart, she bit her lip while gathering the clothes strewn across the floor.

“Bitch,” she whispered, mentally adding Miranda to her growing grudge list.

Ten minutes behind schedule, Mia reluctantly reached room 7, encountering Miranda once again and receiving the same disapproving glare.

“Late again, Amelia,” she snapped, guiding Mia back into the hallway almost aggressively.

“I actually prefer Mia-”.

“Listen, I don't care about who you are or if you're here just to play around,” she gestured almost comically with her hands. “I have very strict orders from your father, you hear? Fuck this up and he will hear about it,” she warned before re-entering the room without a second glance.

Mia felt dizzy, she had this very real and urgent need to punch this woman so hard that it would create a time-space discontinuity. So she ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath before entering the room again, not without mentally cursing out her father at least a hundred times.

The moment Mia reentered room 7, chaos immediately seized her attention. She hadn't had a chance to process or inspect anything on her previous entrance, but now her eyes widened as the absence of yelling allowed her to fully absorb the bustling scene. Swarms of people were engrossed in various tasks related to set and costume design. Fabric, threads, samples, and mannequins were scattered throughout the space. Some were drawing, others were busy on computers, and a vibrant array of colors, designs, and concepts adorned almost every inch of the NY warehouse.

“You look like a lost puppy,” a voice remarked. Mia turned around to find a curly dark-haired young man with piercing green eyes, well-built and casually dressed in black jeans and a black shirt—seemingly the norm around here. Mia, in her fitted jeans, one-shoulder white shirt, and stilettos, clearly hadn't received the memo.

“If you weren’t buried in that pile of clothes you’re carrying, I would’ve thought you were talent,” he joked, widening his eyes for emphasis.

“Zak,” he introduced himself, extending a warm hand to Mia, who reciprocated with a smile and a firm handshake.

“Mia,” she replied.

“Oh, I know. You’re here from Rust, no?” Zak continued, starting to walk while tilting his head to indicate Mia to follow along.

An almost nauseating feeling surged from Mia’s stomach to her head upon hearing her father’s fashion brand mentioned. “Old piece of shit,” she thought and simply nodded at Zak.

She followed the British young man through the bustling room, skillfully navigating around the numerous people passing by. Amidst the crowd, Mia spotted the now-familiar gray head of hair belonging to Miranda in a more secluded area, engaged in conversation with two others.

Next to her, positioned on a podium in front of a tall mirror like a well-deserved trophy, stood a deliciously built dirty-blonde-haired man. All Mia could make out was his back—feet wide apart, as if unafraid to claim all the space in the world. He exuded a devilish height, seeming firmly rooted to the earth, and Mia resisted the urge to keep looking.

Mia felt a pair of hands gently squeezing her shoulders, and she realized she had been standing dumbfounded for longer than she’d like to admit, or would’ve preferred anyone to notice. Zak gave her a final squeeze before moving in front of her.

“Hem work, doll. You can help me with that,” he winked, taking the pile of clothes from her and strolling towards the other side of the room.

“H-O-T,” he silently mouthed, gesturing towards the tall man. Mia chuckled, a subtle gleam of light flashing through her eyes as she walked toward the podium after grabbing a bag of pins from the nearby work-station.

Her knees touched the ground before she could get a good look at the man in front of her, and her brows furrowed when she noticed that those pants really needed some work. With a pin in her hand, she carefully grabbed the remaining fabric and started folding it to estimate how much should be removed before even thinking about folding back and sewing down. She jumped a little when her pinky finger made contact with the bare skin of the man's ankle, accidentally poking him with the sharp pin.

Alexander gazed coolly down at her, offering a reassuring smile. Never in her entire life had Mia seen such a handsome man, and she had encountered her fair share of attractive people.

Collecting herself, Mia apologized, the obvious size difference making her blush even as she knelt. She looked up what felt like at least a whole four and a half feet to meet his gaze, smiling.

Picking up on the color in her cheeks, Alexander's eyes trailed over her features as she maintained eye contact. Her small frame starkly contrasted with Alexander’s massive size. Her hair, intentionally frenzied, framed the sides of her head and cascaded down her back to her waist with no particular order. Her tight clothes allowed him to paint a vivid mental image of her body. This little sweetheart was the last thing he expected to find when he looked down, and to say he was intrigued would be an understatement.

“Sorry, it’s my first day,” Mia lied -about the reason for her nervousness-.

“Don’t worry, It’s my first day here as well,” Alexander joked, his gaze intent on her.

She licked her lips, seemingly contemplating a response, and he felt his pants tighten a little.

“Good fit?” Miranda interrupted.

“Yeah, just a few adjustments, I think,” Alexander replied, his eyes still on Mia even as Miranda spoke to him.

“Sorry again,” Mia apologetically smiled before taking a double take up at him, noticing a slight curl to his lips. It was so subtle that she wasn’t sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her. She resumed working on the hem, carefully folding and pinning it on the soft fabric. While Alexander conversed with Zak and Miranda, his voice resonated in Mia's ears, sounding soft yet deep, as if emanating from the depths of his chest.

However, Mia's tranquil moment was interrupted by the irritating sound of her full name. She looked up, more of a glare, and let out a big sigh as she rested her hands on her thighs, awaiting further instructions. Alexander couldn't help but notice Mia's fingers twitching on her lap as he observed her staring at the older woman, as if she were trying to contain herself. The subtle rhythm of her tapping fingers implicitly conveyed a growing frustration.

Miranda continued, motioning toward a pile of fabric samples that could easily be mistaken for a thousand little squares. "Zak will handle that. I want you to organize those, by fabric."

Mia shot a side-eye at Zak, who offered an apologetic smile, clearly finding the request ridiculous. Alexander's brows furrowed slightly, and then he raised them humorously as he noticed Mia's stilettos while she stood up -unusual. The air seemed to grow colder as she walked away, at least according to his perception.

For what felt like at least five hours, Mia found herself in another corner of the warehouse, meticulously touching, tagging, and organizing each small square of fabric. She attached them to a book, repeating the process over and over. The act of ordering brought her a sense of calm, much like cleaning and counting—a compulsion ingrained in her for as long as she could recall. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, a small realm of control in a life that had always been tightly regulated.

While she worked, her thoughts drifted to her life back in Seattle, now seemingly distant. She reflected on the mistakes she had made this time, wondering if she could ever set things right. Despite her contemplation, her cheeks flushed, and her body trembled slightly at the thought of her father. He existed more like a distant planet in her mind, distorting everything around it with its own gravitational pull, rather than as a person.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the screen of Mia's phone lit up, displaying a message from him.

"Been trying to call in, pick up. Don't forget who's looking out for you."

Her attention shifted as footsteps approached from behind, and she turned just as the lights started going out, producing a loud noise. Zak's figure emerged, casting shadows as he walked toward her.

"So tell me, little heiress, what did you do to awaken Miranda’s wrath?" Zak inquired, his voice echoing. Mia's eyes adjusted to the dimming light and she noticed there were only a few people left in the warehouse. "It was like the third Reich over there," he joked, grinning.

Mia chuckled, gradually picking up on Zak's relaxed demeanor. She felt her shoulders loosen, realizing she had been holding back a significant amount of tension.

"It’s complicated. I made a very powerful person really mad," she confessed, leaning in towards Zak as if sharing a secret. Zak mirrored her posture, leaning in with his elbows on the table and head resting on his hands, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Who?" he asked.

"My father," Mia replied with a slight smirk.

"Ah! I need to hear all the gory details," Zak exclaimed, straightening up and almost jumping from excitement. "But over some drinks, doll. The rest of the crew is going out cause, obviously." He shrugged, as if it were a given. "And you say?"

"Yes," Mia smiled, a surge of excitement coursing through her body after what felt like an eternity.

Mia's smooth skin caught and reflected the neon lights as she navigated through the bustling nightclub, her hand tightly intertwined with Zak's, who once again guided her through the crowd. He had enthusiastically spoken about this being the best nightclub in the city, shared plans of showing her around New York, and expressed his desire to fuck a guy named Jeremy – in that particular order.

His laughter resonated over the loud music as he conversed with the bartender. Four different types of alcohol were placed on the marble bar for them to enjoy. By Mia's third Tequila shot, her mood had significantly lightened, and she found herself giggling with Zak and a few other crew members.

“Look at him” Zak pointed, referring to some guy at the dance floor. “I need him on a fucking plate.” He chugged the rest of his glass and continued. “We could totally have a foursome, you, me, Jeremy, and our beloved superstar who you were eye-fucking earlier.” Mia almost choked on her drink, realizing Zak had picked up on her not-so-implicit attraction.

“Who is he, anyway? He looks familiar.” She asked, head tilting slightly to the side, her lips cold from the ice on her drink.

"Alexander Skarsgard," Zak revealed, and Mia hung onto every word, it sounded as if the world's oldest secret had just been revealed to her like a divine prophecy. “Actor, model, pathological singleton.” he continued.

She hummed, emptying her cup, urgently needing another. Zak took no time in following her by emptying his glass as well and signaling the bartender for another round, his every move seemed so natural and casual, like if he just strolled through life without a care in the world.

"I got this one," Mia said, pulling out her wallet.

"No way—" Zak started, pushing her hand away.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do," Mia winked, a warm tingle buzzing through her head.

Her fingers skillfully pressed the card terminal keys, but an unexpected outcome unfolded.

“It declined.” The slim bartender pointed, apologetic. “Do you have another one?”

Mia almost took a step back as if she had been slapped through the face.

“It - it doesn’t- it doesn’t have a limit. It can’t decline.” She stuttered and began taking out the repertoire of cards she had in her wallet. Declined, declined, declined, declined.

Zak, finding the situation amusing, stepped in to help just as another guy offered to cover the bill. Mia, reacting to his presence, turned to see a tall man in a black shirt and classic blue jeans. He insisted on paying for Mia's drinks, heavily complimenting her as he did. Mia thanked him, and Zak, after emptying his glass, got lost in another conversation.

"Do you want to dance?" the stranger asked, pointing to the dance floor. Mia nodded, feeling a tingling sensation throughout her body, possibly caused by the alcohol. Maybe this was the break she needed—some good-old physical contact to ease the storm in her head.

He wasted no time, placing his hand firmly on Mia’s lower back, guiding her until they stood facing each other, moving to the rhythm. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, looked at him, subtly enticing. She rested her hands on his shoulders while he ran his own through her waist and the exposed skin on her upper back.

As the song progressed, Mia closed her eyes, turning around and moving softly with her back leaning into the man’s chest. His hands took the opportunity to travel through her abdomen. For a moment, or perhaps longer than a moment, behind her closed eyelids flashed images of Alexander. Her body tingled as she imagined his deep gaze, wondering if his hands were warm, how they would feel on her, whether he would be gentle or firm as he touched her, and how his long fingers would trace the skin of her body.

However, as with all things too good to be true, her phone vibrated almost violently, abruptly pulling her from her fantasies.

"Sorry," she quickly excused herself, leaving the guy half-turned on and with an invisible question mark above his head.

The floor trembled beneath her forceful steps, and the cold New York air hit her as soon as she pushed the emergency door exit to step out.

“You’re a fucking monster,” she said, answering her phone. “What the fuck did you do?”

A silence extended through the phone line, and a shiver traveled through Mia’s body, the familiar feeling of her heart shrinking into her chest.

“Watch very carefully how you speak to me,” a stern voice replied, characterized by a well-used tone, if that made any sense.

“You answer when I call you” he continued. “How are you?”

“How am I? I have no fucking money, and you banished me to one of the most expensive cities in the whole world,” she said, her voice filled with exasperation.

“You have enough money to get by. Just not for your usual spending sprees.”

“All my cards declined less than 20 minutes ago,” she spat, fighting the urge to throw her phone into the wall.

“You’re so fucking irresponsible, Mia,” her father replied.

“Don’t try to lecture me and be a father now, Luke. If I die, it’s gonna be on you,” she said.

“Quit the theatrics. I—”

“They’re not theatrics. You send me to this shitty apartment in New York, make me work for the reincarnation of Mussolini, and then cut off my money?” Mia huffed.

“Grow the fuck up,” she heard him say, just as she hung up on him.

On the other side of town, almost like a direct contrast to Mia’s night, Alexander sat on the balcony of his apartment. His hands were busy holding a thick script, and his eyes moved while his lips softly mouthed words as he read. A glass of whiskey rested on the table in front of him, his mind completely elsewhere.

He worked out his frustrations by tapping his fingers on the cold paper he held. Despite living in a townhouse in the wealthiest part of Soho, in true Scandinavian fashion, it didn't scream opulence but rather simple and comfortable living.

Little did Mia know, Alexander’s mind was filled with thoughts of her just the same. The little seamstress had stuck to his mind like sticky, sweet honey he couldn't wash off. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, claim her as if feminism never existed, and never let her go.

Slamming the script onto the table, he sat up, taking a deep breath and walking across his home into the master bathroom. Steaming away the ache in his muscles, he mentally went over the past day.

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard smut #skarsgard #obsidian fanfic #alexander skarsgard fanfic

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oncasette · 7 months

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𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear.

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning.

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much.

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her.

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd.

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path.

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs.

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes.

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line.

“Really?” Rachel asks.

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile.

“Whatever,” she sighs.

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step.

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette.

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch.

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over.

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums.

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two.

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough.

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height.

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise.

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful.

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff.

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress.

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first.

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again.

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries.

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you.

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence.

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say.

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips.

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it.

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now.

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him.

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine.

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth.

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up.

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before.

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard.

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance.

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in.

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up.

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak.

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further.

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold.

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you.

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly.

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you.

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean.

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say.

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that.

#eric northman #eric northman x reader #eric northman smut #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #true blood #kinktober #kinktober 23

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blackleatherjacketz · 3 months

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All Better

Eric Northman x Female Reader

Summary: You miss a meeting because you're sick, and Eric makes a house call to make you feel better.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Eric being Eric, Strep Throat, Antibiotics, Shoving, Blaming, Kissing, Glamoring, Hypnotizing, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Healing Vampire Blood, Blood Drinking, Biting, Vampirism, Nipple Play, Licking, Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm

Read more Eric!

“You don’t look very good.” Eric states the obvious as his brows knit together in a look of, wait a minute, is that… concern that you’re seeing on his face? It must be the medication you’re on that’s blurring your vision and dulling your senses, because you’re pretty sure that ‘concern’ isn’t in Eric Northman’s emotional repertoire. “What’s wrong with you?”

It isn’t until he pushes you up against the wall, staring at your pale face as beads of sweat run down your temples that he understands why you didn’t show up to Fangtasia tonight or bother answering your phone when he called. The realization of your illness slowly melts that concerned look of his into a stoic expression of understanding, allowing his pupils to expand just the slightest bit before his lips part in silence.

“I’m just sick, it’s nothing.” You try to look away from him, tempted to fall back into your old habit of isolating yourself when falling ill, only he grabs hold of your chin to prevent that from happening.

“Sick, how?” That sense of understanding gets washed away in a flash, his brief display of genuine emotion quickly covered up by his usual curt and cutting tone.

“It’s just an infection, I know I should have called, I just didn’t think you’d…”

“Didn’t think I’d what?” He tightens his grip on your chin, bringing his face closer to yours. “Didn’t think I’d notice that my favorite human wasn’t there to greet me tonight?”

Favorite human? Did you hear that right? You can’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise as he admits it out loud, albeit through gritted teeth.

“I was too weak to drive out there, I…” You mutter as his cool grip on your face chills you even more, forcing your body to shiver in its febrile state.

“Then let me heal you.” He offers, his eyes scanning over your shaking form before he brings his wrist up to his mouth.

“What?” Your arrangement with Eric has always been very simple; you show up once a week to let him feed on you and he pays you enough money to cover your mortgage each month. It had never been more than that though, never crossed any other carnal line despite your secret desire for more intimacy with him. He had never once offered you his own blood before, and the idea of it still kind of scares you, if you’re being honest with yourself. “Heal me?”

“So you won’t be sick anymore.” He loosens his grip on your face, his hand falling loosely around your neck.

“I’m on antibiotics, Eric, I don’t need your blood.” You attempt to walk away from him but he places his palm flat across your chest, forcing you back into position against the wall. Even his restrained amount of strength is too much for your weakened muscles to withstand as you wince in pain.

“Let me heal you.” He stares into your eyes, accessing your subconscious mind as you can’t help but stare right back, too tired to put up any sort of emotional barrier between the two of you. You’ve seen him do this to others before, convincing them to do whatever he wanted, whether that be to pay him back, run away or even kill someone for him. You just never thought he’d do it to you.

“Okay,” You hear yourself whisper almost immediately before taking his hand and leading him to the couch at the far end of your living room. You watch him sit down as if he’s already been there dozens of times before, as if he’s lived there with you already, as if he owns the place. You feel him pull you onto his lap, guiding your hips and thighs so that you’re now straddling him in the middle of your couch as his hands carefully smooth their way up your back.

“You’re shivering.” He grins as you settle into him, your pelvis slowly rocking against his hips as his hands find their way into your hair. “I can fix that.”

“Yeah?” As scary as the idea of drinking his blood is, the thought of letting this feverish hell continue any longer seems way worse.

“Let me take care of you.” Eric fumbles through the random items on the side table closest to him until he finds something sharp at his disposal: a ball point pen. He pushes the cap off with his thumb, smiles up at you before jabbing the pen into his neck so quickly, you barely have a chance to register what’s happening before he pulls you in closer. “Now, drink.”

You gasp as your heart races in a confused sense of horror, watching droplets of his blood ooze out of his wound and down the porcelain skin of his neck. Your lips begin to tremble as his fingers weave their way into your hair, pushing your mouth in closer to his throat as you attempt to fight your body’s natural panic response.

“Drink.” He instructs again, only this time more sternly.

Having no other choice but to do as you’re told, you open your mouth and lick the droplets of blood from his neck as he continues to hold you in place. It tastes a little better than you thought it would, a sort of salty mixture with hints of iron and blackberry wine that leaves a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste on the back of your tongue. Kind of like a rich Cabernet.

Well, that’s not so bad, now is it?

You open up again and start down at his clavicle this time, making sure to clean up any remnants of the fluid until you get all the way up to the puncture site, greedily suckling straight from the source. You can hear him moan as you lap him up, feel his grip on your hair tighten as you consume him, getting lost in the closeness of your bodies and the binding of your fluids. You’re sure that he can hear your heart beating wildly inside your chest, thumping hard against his as you wrap your arms around his torso to get even closer to him. You can feel his blood working inside you, healing you on a cellular level; each vampiric red blood cell eradicating any bacteria into oblivion as the weakness leaves your muscles and the pain dissipates from your throat.

“Enough,” he whispers reluctantly, now having to pull your mouth off him. “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

His words barely bring you out of your trance, his salty flesh no longer beneath your tongue as he tugs on your scalp to get you to finally stop drinking. It’s almost as if you’ve been brought back to reality after having one of the most intense dreams you’ve ever had as you watch his wound heal just as quickly as he had made it. You’ll never get used to that.

“It worked.” You exclaim gratefully. “I feel better!”

“I told you.” Eric grins as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, reminding you that you’ve made quite the mess of yourself. “This is why you have to let me take care of you.”

“I’m not very good at that.” You’ve always had to take care of yourself in the past. One lesson that life has taught you time and time again is that the second you start depending on someone is the very moment that you’ll be disappointed.

“I know, but you have to let me do it anyway.” His eyelids drop halfway down as he looks at you longingly, gazing upon you in a way that you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe it’s that look, or maybe it’s the high of his blood now coursing through your veins that makes you suddenly feel compelled to press your lips against his, letting that vampiric confidence guide your actions. You keep them there for a few seconds, realizing that he isn’t pulling away from you, but instead is kissing you back with just as much enthusiasm as he pulls tighter on your scalp.

You’ve always wanted to kiss him, from the very first moment that you saw him. But something about him told you that he had women throwing themselves at his feet left and right; and you didn’t want to be like one of them. You were just grateful for the little contact you got when he fed upon you each week. You relished every caress of your cheek, every squeeze of your waist that sent shivers down your spine before he ended up drinking his fill. You never thought that he’d be interested in you like this, that he’d actually want you in that type of way at all.

However, his tongue now parts your lips as his kiss intensifies, all but moaning the truth into your mouth as if he’s been waiting just as long to finally taste your lips. His kiss is desperate and sloppy, so different from the perfectly put together business man you first met that night at the bar. His composure casually crumbles to pieces as his hands travel all over your body, frantically grasping onto your muscles until they find themselves in your hair again, his lips curling into a deviously satisfied smirk.

You feel him grow beneath his jeans, his clothed member now brushing against the thin fabric of your underwear as his hips needily writhe against your junction. His deliberate movements trigger that moisture to collect between your thighs as he continues his rhythm upward with several shallow breaths. Now stained in his own blood, his mouth ventures over every inch of your lips and chin before moving down to your jawline, licking a trail alongside your pulse.

You whimper in response, grinding your needy center against him as you brace yourself for the bite that never comes. Instead he lifts your shirt up over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool temperature of the room as your nipples harden in front of his face.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He teases, letting go of the rest of you so he can graze his palms across them, sending a much more intense tingling sensation down your spine.

“I didn’t know that you wanted to…” Your breath hitches as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard before wrapping his arms behind you and turning you on your back. He keeps contact with your skin the entire time, pulling on your sensitive tissue as he looks up at you with those eyes again, dragging your tender bud in between his teeth.

“Really?” He laughs with a smirk. He moves on to the next one before popping it into his mouth while pinching the other, sending a barrage of little fireworks into your skin. “You think I make feeding contracts lightly?”

“No, I uhh…” Your back arches toward the ceiling as he sucks bursts of delight into your tissues, humming a sweet vibration against your skin as you all but melt beneath him. Pleasure being the last sensation you expect to get from Eric’s mouth, you can’t help but feel a little breathless as his fingers simultaneously tug your underwear down your hips as they instinctively lift off the couch cushion to aid in their removal. “It’s hard for me to tell sometimes.”

“You thought I didn’t want you?” He licks a languid path down your quaking abdomen as your muscles contract in hurried anticipation, beads of sweat popping up in his wake. He circles around your navel with his tongue, kissing a hungry trail down your pelvis while his hands help slide your panties off your calves and feet. He smiles and spreads your thighs as far apart as they can go, straining your muscles as he stares at you like a jungle cat would its prey before it pounces. “Looks like I could be a better communicator.”

His fangs drop and his eyes darken, wasting no time in settling between your thighs to take the bite you were wondering would ever come at all. Instead of sinking his fangs into your femoral artery to get the most blood in the least amount of time, though, he bites you just above your swollen center. He laughs as you yelp from the piercing pain, letting that red hot fluid spill down your already dripping wet seam before he dives in to finally taste it.

That cold, blood-thirsty vampire that you’ve known for the past few weeks finally comes out as he starts licking streaks of crimson up and down your puffy lips, spreading the blood and gore into your folds as his tongue delivers that tantalizing balance of pain and pleasure that you’ve only read about in books. He growls like the creature of the night that he is as he devours you, snaking his arms beneath your thighs to pull you in even closer as his mouth delves into your flesh. Unable to be sated, he flicks his tongue up and down your sensitive clit, sending signals of ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain as your eyes flutter with visions of shapes and colors you never knew existed.

Maybe it’s the vampire blood pumping through your veins for the very first time, or maybe it’s Eric’s skilled mouth that forces your eyes to roll back into your head. The way he keeps eating and drinking makes it feel as if each and every tiny hair on your skin is now alive, standing on end waiting for him to touch them, to give them permission to explode until your entire body begins to shake. You reach out for him in vain as the otherworldly sense of euphoria washes over you, forcing every muscle in your body to convulse in rhythmic waves as he relentlessly drinks from your bloody cunt. He glances up at you only to grin as your skin changes color, warming and cooling in phases as your orgasm violently works its way through your skin and bones and finally out of your mouth.

“Eric!” You cry out as he finally pulls back from you, licking his lips as you rattle and hum in the crimson mess he’s made of you. “Oh my God, Eric!”

“See?” He smirks as he watches you come down from your hormonal high, running your hands through his hair as he finally gives your bloody center one last lick. “All better.”

#eric northman #alexander skarsgard #true blood #eric northman smut #eric northman fanfiction #eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfic #vampires #vampire

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secondhand-snow · 3 months

Text

a body of impulses

lukas matsson x f!roy!reader (succession)

★chapter 2★

wc: 7.5k+

warnings: toxic family dynamics, drinking, very mild violence, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (if you squint), oral sex (f! recieving), fingering (f!recieving), handjobs, cum eating, spit, clothed sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), biting, so much making out, praise, size difference, no use of y/n

summary: The youngest Roy meets Lukas Matsson at her brother's birthday party. Limerence strikes like lightening. Self-control snaps. Attachment blooms.

author's note: I'm considering making this a short series? Let me know what you think! please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

It made you feel strangely childish, running through the darkened rooms of the event space, carefully stepping with bent knees to reduce your risk of falling from the extra few inches your heels provided you. Looking over your shoulder at the dwindling silhouettes of your siblings, you checked to be sure they didn’t think your disappearance was too suspicious. Of course, they were too transfixed with themselves. They were staring at the large, falsified, magazine covers of themselves hung on the walls of the open space.

Connor was still making a fuss, comforted by Willa. You noticed a few attendants coming over to begin the process of removing his personalized poster from public view. Meanwhile, Shiv and Roman had their heads together, no doubt constructing some plan to turn Kendall’s birthday into a business opportunity. You rolled your eyes lightly, turning back around to peer through the small crowd at your older brother’s bomber jacket.

“Ken… Hey Kendall! Wait up!” You called out to him, your voice only a little louder than your normal speaking tone to carry over the techno music. He heard you, apparently, turning to lock eyes with you. You trotted up to him, grateful that the room you were in was mostly empty of partygoers. The walls were big screens flashing with fire, the orange light lighting up Kendall's face as he looked at you. Flames flickered in the pupils of his eyes and you almost laughed at the ironic symbolism of the moment.

“So, I know Rome gave you something earlier, I don’t know what, but uh, I got you a card too.” You opened your small clutch and pulled out a white envelope, Kendall’s name written on it in your neat cursive handwriting.

“You did?” His eyebrows raised, accentuating the few rows of wrinkles in his forehead. Taking the envelope from your hand, he turned it around in his fingers, almost like he couldn’t believe it was real. You bit your lower lip and nodded, hands moving to clasp behind your back.

“Yeah, I um… didn’t want to give it to you around them,” you nodded your head in the general direction of the rest of your siblings. “I know things have been, like, weird… lately. But, It’s your birthday and I love you and so I got you something.” Smiling on the last word, your tone raised the slightest bit. Kendall’s brows were still furrowed, but he nodded and ripped the envelope open to produce the card.

It was a cliche store bought birthday card, the front of it adorned in a goofy catchphrase and the picture of a dachshund. You saw his lips twitch the slightest bit as he read the front, a full smile forming as he opened the card. The stereotypical joke’s punchline was delivered and sandwiched inside the folded paper was an old photo of the two of you as children. He picked it up between his thumb and pointer finger, turning it over to find the date it was taken and both of your names written on the back.

A small laugh escaped his mouth, his pointed grin blooming over his face as he turned the photo to face you. Pictured were the two of you, outside at the Hamptons house on a sunny day. You were young, maybe a few years old and Kendall was an older teenager. The younger version of yourself sat on his shoulders, your hands coming down to cradle his face while his hands held onto your ankles. Your tongue was sticking out at the photographer, he had noticed your face and was in the midst of an open-mouthed laugh when the photo was captured.

It was a nod to your younger years, when Kendall filled more of a fatherly role than a brotherly one. You had written on the inside of the card, the message reading: “Happy birthday Ken. I love you always, no matter what,” with a heart and your signature ending the note.

“What do you think?”

“Are you kidding, I love it. God, I- I haven’t seen that picture in years.” He tucked the photo back away and held the card in one hand while he embraced you.

“Right?! I found it the other day when I was looking through some old diaries. That was such a good summer.” You beamed at him as you spoke. He hadn’t been this happy around you in weeks, maybe even months.

“It was. At least, by our standards.” Kendall chuckled a bit with the memory. “This is- it’s just great. Thank you.” You pulled him into another hug, he tucked his nose into your hair and planted a soft kiss on your head.

“I’m glad you like it. I really love you Ken, don’t forget that.” You looked into his eyes as you said it, a sad smile on your face at the intensity behind your words. He just nodded, squeezing you tight one last time before releasing your frame.

“Here, come on. I’m gonna show you something.” He took your hand then, leading you through the throng of people enjoying his birthday party, nobody sparing him a second glance as he walked by.

That was how you ended up with a rainbow bracelet around your wrist and a too-strong drink in your hand, standing behind the rope blocking off Kendall’s private treehouse from the rest of the party. Your clutch fell around your wrist loosely, your fingers prodding at the straw in your cocktail as your siblings bickered in front of you.

“You’re getting worked up about a treehouse? Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Kendall shut the rope divider in front of Roman, turning his attention to a newcomer entering the space. “Hey, come in. Wristband him.” He nodded to the security guards.

“Yeah, wristband this guy. Uh, what’s his name?”

“No idea.”

“Good, so good. So random, unknown man and our baby sister can come in, but not us?” Roman talked with his arms, navy blue suit jacket riding up to show the skin of his wrists. Shiv crossed hers as he spoke, rippling the green fabric at the front of her chest, eyes staring daggers into you.

“Yeah so the thing is, and- I already said this, she’s cool. You’re not.” Kendall gestured to you and you gave a weak smile to your excluded siblings.

“Fucking bullshit.” Roman ran a hand through his hair.

“See these two? Don’t let these two in okay. She’s good, they’re not.” Kendall pointed to the three of you as he talked to the guard, a tall blonde man in a black tshirt. “This is my treehouse. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”

Shiv and Rome were in disbelief, still trying to reason with your eldest brother as he turned away from them and towards you. He put an arm on your back, guiding you to walk away from the scene and into the exclusive treehouse. You couldn’t help turning to look over your shoulder, glancing at your two neglected siblings with wide eyes. Roman had begun walking away, but Siobhan was still standing there, arms folded. As she caught your gaze, she rolled her eyes and shook her head in shock before finally moving to follow her brother deeper into the party, beginning to speak to him as she walked.

Kendall cursed under his breath as he led you into his treehouse. It was honestly eerie to see the structure again. You had too much of an age gap with Kendall to have played with him in it as a child, but on more than one occasion you had wandered up into it on your own, looking for a place to escape the aggressive family dynamic that arose wherever your siblings were in close proximity. There was even a time when you were a young teenager you had accidently busted Kendall for smoking weed in the treehouse during a family get together. He ended up paying you handsomely to keep quiet, which you did, never uttering a word about it to this day. You were nothing if not loyal.

The inside of this reconstructed treehouse was much different than the structure of your childhood. For one, it was massive. The treehouse you remembered could barely fit all four of you kids in it, definitely not the few dozen that stood milling about in the new space. The interior was dark. Black walls, wooden dividers and glass windows made up most of the area, with some modern light fixtures and lanterns set around to provide a warm glow. The outermost walls were made to look like the outdoors, a forest of sorts with shadows and cool tones to outline the trees. A wooden fence sat in front of the forest walls, making the entire space feel strangely like an outdoor balcony or patio. The music was lighter in this area, though still a techno party beat playing just loud enough that conversations were had in louder tones than normal. There were more earthy toned chairs, couches and tall tables filling the space than other areas in the event, and more partygoers milling about and chatting rather than dancing.

“Oh here, come on.” Kendal had been talking, mostly to himself for a few seconds, just rambling about your shitty siblings. You tuned back into his words as he spoke in your ear and turned you in a specific direction with the hand on your lower back. Your eyes searched around the room, not recognizing what was drawing Kendall until he spoke again.

“There he is, Lukas Mattson. The Odin’ of codin’.” Finally you noticed the blonde man sitting just a few feet in front of you. His tall frame was dwarfed by the way he sat on the bench, lanky with one leg hitched up and a beer in his hand, but as he sat up you immediately recognized his face. “My man, my myth, my fucking monolith. What’s up bro? You havin’ a good time?”

“Do I look like I’m having a good time?” Lukas’s gaze darted from Kendall to yourself, your eye contact lingering for just a second long enough to provoke you to turn your stare to the ground in reservation.

“No, you do not.”

“I am not.”

“Still haven’t figured out the socials, huh? Dude, you should get your algo guy to fix your code.” Your eyes lifted at that, and you smiled at the tone of your brother’s voice. Your hands came to raise the glass you had held at your side to your mouth. You drank through the thin black straw, the artificially colored liquid stinging your throat a bit as you swallowed heavily. Mattson didn’t respond to that, cocking his head at Kendall’s comment, pointedly looking at you, and shifting back to stare at him again.

“Oh uh yeah, this is my sister,” Kendall introduced you with your name, and you gave a small smile to Lukas in greeting. “Listen, heads up, my siblings are looking for you now.”

“And you led one of them straight to me?” He didn’t acknowledge your greeting, but his gaze continued to linger on you, a new softness behind his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s cool. She won’t try to get to sell your soul like the other two. Shiv and Roman, they’re like emissaries from the Grand Duke of Old. Dad wants to buy you, so he sent his winged dildos to schmooze.”

“I shouldn’t say anything, even the look on my face is commercially sensitive.”

“But it makes, like, no sense, correct? Amtrak buys Tesla? If anything, you should buy him.” Your eyebrows furrowed the smallest bit at Kendall’s suggestion, turned your head to look up at him. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice your confusion, but the way Mattson cocked an eyebrow showed that he did.

“You think?” You turned your attention back to Lukas, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, I really appreciate your impartial read.” He leaned his head towards Kendall, speaking lowly, like his words were a secret.

“ Kendall? Uh, Rava wants to say hi.” Comfrey had appeared behind you, moving quickly and quietly in a way you’d come to appreciate. You didn’t even notice her presence until she spoke, fidgeting with the phone in her hand.

“Sure, uh not right now. When I’m ready.” Kendall dismissed her and Comfrey slinked back into the shadows of the party, waiting for him to finish his conversation. “Listen, you should stay up here, okay? So you don’t get networked to fuck. Uh, here,” He spoke your name, addressing you for the first time since he’d begun talking to Lukas, “Keep the cronies away from him. And the sibs.”

“Um… okay.” It felt like more of a command than a request, but you agreed despite your annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy, man.” With a wave, Kendall left, following Comfrey into a new area of the night’s festivities.

You stood for a moment, awkward and self conscious, twirling your drink’s straw between your thumb and index finger. Biting your lower lip, you made eye contact with Mattson, realizing he had been staring at you this whole time.

“Hi, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” You finally spoke, offering a small smile to the man in front of you.

“No, we haven’t. I know you though. The youngest Roy? The virtuous daughter?” He motioned as he joked with you, the beer in his hand sloshing around in its brown glass bottle.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed, moving to sit by him on the wooden bench he occupied. “You can’t believe everything you see in the media, I thought you would know that better than anyone.”

“Maybe. Your lack of involvement with your family’s scandals speaks for itself, though. You’re a saint compared to your father and brothers.” His Swedish accent peeked through his words, making his sentences flow together like music.

“Well, I’ve had less time to fuck things up. I joined the company much later than them, I only finished college a few years ago.” Shrugging while you spoke, you tried your best to dismiss his implications. Your momentary status as a neutral bridge between your feuding family was something you couldn’t bear to lose.

Mattson hummed before answering, nodding his head slowly as he looked you up and down. “And you aren’t going to use this time to try and convince me to sell?”

You shook your head, a shy smile coming to your face. “Honestly? I don’t really want to. I think you’ve already decided what you want to do, and no amount of my bargaining will change that.”

“You’re smart.”

“I try.”

Lukas grinned at you, “Do you always do what your brother tells you to?”

“No, I just want to make him happy.” You shook your head slightly, feeling a little embarrassed at your obvious obedience to your family. It’s not like you don’t think for yourself, it’s just that sometimes complying is easier than the alternative. “You’re not enjoying the party?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not really. Crowds aren’t my favorite thing. And these drinks are way too strong.” You set down your drink on the floor near the bench, the liquor was beginning to give you a headache.

“But you came to support Kendall?” You nodded. He raised his eyebrows. “And you still say you aren’t obedient to him?”

“I…” You bit your lip lightly, not sure of how much information you should really reveal to this man. He was an adversary, but something about Lukas made you want to be honest with him. Maybe it was his eyes, or his casual posture, but you felt like leaning into his warmth, however strange it may be. “Well, you did call me virtuous. Maybe I just need to rebel a little, give into impulses for once.”

It was a joke, you both knew it, but the smirk on Mattson’s face felt a bit serious. “That’s an idea.”

You smiled at him, a little blush coming to your cheeks at the suggestion in his sentence. He had moved a bit closer to you through your conversation, and now his knee brushed gently against your. His hand comes down to innocently brush out a wrinkle in the skirt of your dress, resting gently on your thigh for a moment too long before moving away.

“Hey! There you are, fucking hiding from me. Like a human VPN.” The sound of Roman’s voice snapped the two of you from the silence of the shared moment. You quickly adjusted your posture so your leg was crossed away from Lukas, adding a bit of distance between your bodies. “I see someone already found you. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, just enjoying the company. It’s just, uh, you can fill in the blanks.” You subtly glared at your brother as Mattson spoke, immediately aware of his attempt to cut you from the conversation.

“How’d you get up here Rome? I thought Kendall had you banned from the premises.” Roman perched on a chair across from the pair of you, rolling up his sleeves as he sat.

“I paid a girl to give the security a blowjob, what do you think?” Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he spoke to you. “Hey Mattson, uh, question. My old man- our old man,” He made a motion between you and himself, “got a bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says, last big legacy content library, last big fucking super app streaming platform. We obviously fit right?”

“People say we fit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick you’ve come to know. You can tell he's worried at the frankness of Lukas’s responses.

“Stargo is really, really shitty, though. Your genius would really help us out, if you end up selling to Waystar” You raised your eyebrows as you addressed Lukas. The anxiety radiating off of Roman made you want to pitch in, help him, although you still thought your haggling wouldn’t affect Mattson’s final decision.

“I do have one question before we start these.. negotiations. Like, I don’t wanna be rude but.. What kind of shape is your father in? How long will he be around, we’re talking one year… five years..?” Roman is shocked quiet at Mattson’s forwardness, his hands running down the sides of his face as he tried to formulate a response that won’t fuck the deal he’s working to build.

“Well, you mean, you just don’t want him hanging over you, right? Looking over your shoulder all the time, especially while you work” You ask in his stead. Lukas nods. “Well what if you don’t have to talk to him? Like, ever?” Looking over to Roman, you try to throw him a lead to jump back into the conversation.

“Yeah, you work out of, uh, Austin, London, Stockholm, Geneva, whatever. It’s just totally separate companies and we burn Stargo.” Rome catches up, making a contribution to your schmoozing. “And on the occasion that you need to send up a fսcking smoke signal from Geneva, then that goes through me.”

“We can do that together.”

“So, I know GoJo is your baby, and we don’t want to interfere with that at all. So, bearing that in mind, would you consider meeting with my dad?” Roman clasps his palms together and points them towards Lukas.

“Yeah, well, if all this is true, then... yeah.”

“How's Monday?”

“Monday is great.”

“And if I were to shake your hand right now, could I go tell my dad that I basically just bought GoJo for him?”

“No.” Lukas chuckles, pauses to take a sip from his beer. “But you can tell him I'm in the conversation.”

“I’ll fucking take it.” Roman smiles and takes a deep breath before standing from his seat. “I will see you then, I have a call to make” He pulls his phone out as he walks away, already starting to dial in the numbers.

You take a moment to be silent, watching his frame fade into the crowd until you turn to Lukas. He’s looking at you too, head tilted and grin plastered across his face.

“I thought Kendall told you not to let him speak to me.”

“I thought I told you, I’m trying to be more rebellious.” You smile back at him, switching the way you cross your legs to let your bare knee touch the fabric of his pants.

You stay that way, speaking to Mattson and letting him subtly touch your arm, back, leg, for the better part of an hour. It hadn’t been your plan to stay so long, just make a quick appearance for Kendall’s sake and head home before midnight, but you found yourself not wanting to end your dialog with Lukas, causing you to push back your exit further and further. He grabs you a new drink from one of the servers walking through the party, a cocktail that luckily tastes much better than your previous refreshment. Well, maybe not so luckily, since you end up drinking enough to get yourself buzzed and bolder than normal.

You’re self aware enough to draw back when you notice your siblings entering the room again, Roman giving a small wave before heading to a different seating area. You don’t pay him much mind until Shiv enters the area as well, hair frizzy and makeup smudged. She seems pissed, he seems drunk, it all looks like a recipe for failure. Roman perches on a chair, glass of wine in his hand, Shiv turns to leave but gets drawn by some comment he makes.

“I’m sorry- maybe I should…” You look back at Mattson, your conversation had lulled for a few seconds as your attention had turned to your siblings.

“Have to go babysit?” He smiles at you, a bit condescending, but not enough to make you upset. You don’t respond for a second, biting your lip and looking between your current company and the scene between your family.

“I just…” The words come at as a sigh, your head lulling back in exhaustion as you notice Kendall and Naomi breaking through the crowd to engage in Shiv and Roman’s antics. “Things always get out of hand when I’m not there to mediate. But I’m so fucking tired of having to be the good one all the time”

“You don’t have to be, just take a step back, watch shit unfold. Rebel, remember?” Mattson’s blue eyes are dark in the lighting and his eyebrows are raised, daring you. You smile, nod, take a sip of your drink. “It’s actually good entertainment when you aren’t involved.”

Deciding to take a break from your role as peacemaker, you turn to face your siblings in your seat, the same direction Lukas is sitting. You feel his bent knee brush against your back and lean into a bit, something not visible from your sibling’s position. You allow yourself to stay that way until you notice Roman moving to get up. That sparks you to rise, set your drink down, murmur an apology to Lukas, and quickly run over to the circle of your siblings.

“You know you want to, just fucking hit me, do it. ‘I’m not a real person’ fuck you.” Rome’s words are charged, he’s too close to Kendall for your comfort and you see his next action coming a mile away, without any way to stop it. “All right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Happy birthday fuckface.”

Two hands hand on Kendall’s back as he turns to walk away, a push from them sending him falling onto his face in the middle of the party. You know Roman didn’t mean to push him so hard, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but the result was the same regardless of his intent.

“What the fuck Rome? Why would you do that?” You move to help Kendall up with Naomi, turning your head to yell at your other brother, who was laughing at his actions.

“Everybody just take it easy, okay?” You didn’t even notice Connor’s presence until he spoke.

“Oh shit, are you okay? Happy birthday.” Roman laughed through his words. Kendall pushed you away from him in embarrassment when he stood, Naomi giving you a look telling you that she had it covered.

“Take your coat off. Take your fucking coat off.” He didn’t look back at Roman, didn’t address his comments, just spat anger at Connor as he was ushered away. Just a few hours ago he was fine, you didn’t know what could’ve caused him to crash so hard since you’d last seen him.

“Like a fucking eight year old. You're an asshole.” Shiv speaks briefly before marching away, Roman still giggling at his own antics.

“It’s funny. It’s funny! You’re gonna laugh at it later.”

You moved to face your brother, pushing his shoulder back against the chair he had moved to sit in. “Clean your fucking act up. You do one thing right and think you can get away with anything. I love you, but don’t be so fucking stupid, Roman.” Your words seem to break through, he stops laughing for a minute to shoot you a dirty look. Not waiting to see his response, you turn and quickly walk towards the nearest exit of the area, pulling your phone out of your clutch to message your driver.

“Leaving?” Lukas’s voice next to you startles you, and you shoot him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I need to get out of here. I just can’t be near them right now.” He walks with you, humming in understanding as you speak.

“Why don’t you leave with me? Get your mind off them.” You stop walking then, now only a few yards from the exit of the venue. Crossing your arms, you lightly rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“If someone found out…”

“Think for yourself. Be impulsive for once.”

His words give you pause. Normally you would deny him, deny the aching between your thighs that his presence gave you. You’d head home and masturbate until you passed out, report to your Dad in the morning, never speak to the man again. But you were so, so tired of being good.

“Okay. Let’s do it. My driver’s here, we can pull around and pick you up in a few minutes.” Thinking quickly, you come up with a simple plan to stop the public from seeing you leave together. He nods, smiles, and reaches for your phone. You let him take it, let him put his number in and hand it back to you, fingers lingering on yours.

“Text me when you’re here.”

The ride to Lukas’s hotel room is intense. You have enough discretion to raise the divider between the front and back seats of the car, blocking the view of yourself from your driver. But once that black panel separated you, Mattson was merciless. He wasted no time in pulling you into his lap, kissing you roughly and palming your chest with his large hands. You barely came up for breath the entire ride to his hotel, and when you did your neck was immediately attacked. He marked your skin with hickeys and bites, leaving you gasping for air. Trying your best to quiet your moans and whimpers, you covered your mouth with your hand whenever you could, but you doubted your driver couldn’t hear the noises Lukas pulled from you. You tipped them an extra thousand dollars just in case.

He gave you a break while you hurried through the hotel, standing close to you but not touching you, even in the elevator. It gave you plausible deniability. Though if your reflection was any judge, the already darkening marks on your neck spoke for themselves. Mattson is so stoic in public it has you questioning if he even wants this. If he wants you the way that he did in the car. But, as he holds the door open for you to enter his hotel suite, your question is answered.

The hotel suite is modern, with several separate rooms adorned in black, white, and gray decorations. The farthest wall of the living room, the space you’ve walked into, consists of glass windows which offer a gorgeous view of the city’s nighttime lights. You take a moment to look around, throwing your clutch over to an entryway table and walking towards the windows. Your reflection is just barely visible in the glass, your silhouette a sliver of light against the darkness of the New York skyline. Your head tilts to the side a bit, and you reach a hand forward to press against the glass. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your bloodstream, or the lust making your heart beat faster than normal, but you don’t even notice Lukas approach until his reflection joins yours in the window. You look up and slightly behind you, catching his eyes with yours. His pupils are wide and dark, his lids heavy and narrowed with intent.

He places a hand on your chin, tilting you up as he bends down to reach your lips. It starts soft, lips barely parted and eyes closed. Your body follows the tilt of your head, moving to face him and place your hands around his neck. His hands travel to your butt, using his leverage to press you against him. His tongue slips inside your mouth, his movements speed up. Hands begin to grope at your ass, squeezing and pawing you through your gown. It’s rough, but there’s no anger or malice behind his moments, only eagerness.

A hand moves up to the small of your back, lightly rubbing the fabric on your skin in an almost soothing motion. When you finally break the kiss for air, Lukas moves, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to place sloppy kisses there. You’re breathless, but craving his mouth so badly you direct his head back up to yours with a hand in his hair. He groans into your mouth when you press your chest against his, your boobs straining against your dress. The kisses become dirty and wet. He bites at your lower dip and pulls it a bit. You trace the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Your thighs are squeezing together now, softly grinding into each other to provide some kind of sensation to your throbbing clit.

You finally say something when his hands move to pull up the skirt of your dress, breaking the kiss with an inhale for breath before quickly speaking.

“Wait, wait.” He does. Pauses his movements but keeps his fingers in the fabric of the dress. “I’m -I uh, haven’t had sex before. And I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m not dating. Or like, in a relationship with.”

“Okay. Can I still make you cum?”

“Oh, um, sure. Yes.” He’s unfazed by your words, gives you a little smile and another messy kiss before dipping to kneel in front of you. He presses soft kisses to your lower stomach, just barely lifting your dress to expose the very bottom of your panties. When he moves to kiss the front of your mound though, you freeze.

“What are you doing?”

“I was planning on eating your pussy. Is that okay?”

“You want to do that?”

“I would like to, yes.”

“Uh, yeah, okay. I just haven't done this before.” He looks up at you with his piercing blue eyes, waiting until you give him a firm answer. “Can you maybe just tell me what you’re doing? Like, before you do it?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You smile down at him, blushing a bit in embarrassment from your lack of knowledge. He returns a small grin, before moving to kiss the front of your pubic bone again. This time, you let him.

He muzzles his nose into the fabric there briefly, before moving his fingers to rub against your panties. They’re soaked, drenched from your time in the car and the heavy making out you had just finished. He chuckles lowly to himself as he feels this, his touch featherlight.

“You’re so wet. Are you that turned on already?” You bite your lower lip and nod, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“I’m going to touch you underneath your panties, is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods at you then, using his thumb to hook your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold night air. Two long fingers move on either side of your slit, giving pressure just outside of where you need it so badly. You whimper at his motions, muffling the sound by pressing your lips together. His index finger moves then, gently grazing over your clit as it travels the length of your vulva, collecting wetness as it does. A few gentle circles around your entrance before returning to your clit, finally pressing there and beginning to trace patterns into the bundle of nerves.

It feels divine. You’d gotten good at pleasing yourself with your twenty plus years of abstinence, but it felt so delicious to have someone else touch the most sensitive parts of your body. Especially someone who knew what they were doing. And from the way Lukas was moving, he knew exactly what he was doing. His index finger drew circles with your clit, joined shortly after by his middle finger to fully pressure the bud. Your head tips back then, brushing the window behind you as a moan escapes your mouth.

“Don’t fight your noises, I want to hear how good you feel.” The only response you have to his command is to let another whine pass your lips, an action which you hear him groan at. Your fingers move down to grab at your dress, pulling it higher up to expose your bottom half fully, balling your hands into fists in the fabric.

“Fuck, I’m taking these off.” The pressure on your clit stops for a moment, and you lean your head down to look at him. His fingers loop in the sides of your panties to pull them down your thighs. As they reach your calves, you move a hand to his shoulder and stabilize yourself so you can raise your feet out of the garment. You step your last foot out of your panties, and instead of discarding them to the floor, Lukas balls the fabric up, stuffing it in his back pants pocket. He just smiles up at your confused expression, not bothering to explain.

“I’m going to taste you now, okay?”

You nod, and Lukas moves close to you, so close you end up with your back pressed against the window. He lightly holds one of your legs, moving it up and over his shoulder, allowing him better access to your now naked cunt. He leans forward, and with the flat of his tongue, licks a long stripe across your pussy. The feeling is new and exciting, hot and wet and just the right amount of strength. You move a hand to thread through his hair, your other one pressing against the glass behind you to hold you in place.

His tongue fucks you like you’re his favorite taste, diving in and out of your already soaked folds. When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you choke back more of a scream than a moan. The leg on his shoulder begins to shake, and your brows knit together in ecstasy. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, you don’t ever want it to stop. Your climax begins building at a rapid pace, and you feel yourself grinding against Lukas’s tongue, chasing your pleasure with impulsive motions. He lets out a low moan against you, a buzzing hum that vibrates through your body.

“Fuck Lukas, please don’t stop.” The words come out breathless, followed by a whimper and preceded by a groan. He hums against you again and doubles his efforts, moving his tongue to fuck into your enterance while two fingers come up to rub quickly against your clit. It’s only a few seconds before the tension building in your stomach finally snaps, and with a languid moan you fall apart under Lukas Matsson’s tongue.

You aren’t even sure what noises escape your lips, too lost in bliss to focus on anything but absolute pleasure. He keeps eating you out until you’re over sensitive and almost pushing his face away, and even then he continues lightly stroking your folds with a few fingers. When you look down at him, his chin is covered in your juices and his pants are tented with an obvious erection.

“Oh my god.”

“That good?”

“Kiss me again?”

He does, of course. Raises from his knees to grab your chin and pull you into his body, not bothering to wipe his mouth before capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on him, tangy and rich and intoxicating. The flavor only spurs you on, pressing your lips to his roughy. He’s hard against your stomach, a feeling that both arouses you and causes some anxiety. Lukas seems content to kiss you forever, tasting your lips like a man starved. When he pulls away to kiss down your neck, you take a moment to speak.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I… want you to feel good too.”

“You want to get me off?” You nod in response.

“Will you show me what to do? What you like?”

“Sure. Here, come with me.” He smiles at you, grabs your hand with his, and gently leads you over to the couch in the room. It’s a big, white sectional facing a massive TV. Lukas moves to sit back against it, gently pulling you to sit close to him, nearly sitting in his lap. His erection is even more obvious in this position, his length looking painfully hard against his thigh.

“Can I touch you?” You look up at him with wide eyes, your hand moving to his thigh while you wait for a response. He leans back and nods at you, a slightly cocky grin on his face. Gently, so gently, your hand moves to palm over his cock. He hums as you make contact, quietly encouraging your timid rubbing.

Fingers explore the imprint of his length in his pants, finger tracing the outline of his cock cautiously. You looked up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his face twitched and changed with your increases in pressure. Pressing a bit harder, you touch him with long strokes, beginning a pattern with your movements. Lukas’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Something in his stare feels animalistic, like a predator watching its prey. Maybe that should scare you, but if anything it stirs you on, makes you want to please him even more.

“Will you take these off?” Your hands move to his waistband, finger slipping underneath the fabric there, pulling it teasingly from his skin.

“Of course.” He smirks, uses the back of the couch to prop his hips up, and slowly pulls his pants down his thighs. He doesn’t bother with leaving his briefs, pulling his underwear off with the same motion, leaving only exposed skin in his wake.

His cock springs up, brushing against his shirt slightly, leaving a small wet spot from the precum on his tip. He’s long, not that you have much to compare it to, and thin, with a red-pink head already leaking. You take a moment to touch him again, slowly sliding your hand across the skin of his thigh until your fingers graze the short blonde hairs at the base of his shaft. Your hand wraps around him, fingers barely touching. His dick is double the length of your hand, standing tall with a slight curve upwards.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t intimidated. Slowly, eyes flickering from Lukas’s face to your hand and back again, you began to stroke him. Your hand gently raised from his base to tip, your thumb grazing over his slit. This elicits a soft gasp from Lukas, a sound that makes you give him a shy smile. The hand on his cock moves back down, your other moving to rest gently on his thigh as you slightly adjust to face him better. Your motions are stuttering and unpracticed, hindered by the dryness of both your skin. Lukas doesn’t seem to mind, his breath coming faster and his hips slightly moving to guide the travel of your hand.

“I think…” You bite your lower lip in thought, your eyebrows coming together as your sentence trails off. Bending over Lukas’s lap slightly, you look up at him through your dark eyelashes, and let a string of spit fall from your tongue onto his cock.

The effect on him is immediate, a deep curse falling from his lips as his dick twitches in your grip. His head falls back against the couch, his eyes shut softly. You don’t know if it’s the sensation of the spit on his sensitive tip, or the fact that you were doing something so dirty, but he seems to love your impulsive choice. Your hand gets into a better rhythm, moving much easier as you spread the wetness across the skin of his cock.

“Fuck, how did you know about that?” Lukas is breathless, but still chuckling through his words.

“I didn't, it just seemed like you needed something wet…”

He curses again, hums in agreement. You just blush in response, moving your attention back to his length in front of you. Your grip tightens, your motions speed up a bit. The sound of skin fills the room, joined by low hums and moans from Lukas’s throat. The heat between your thighs begins to return, a dull throb causing you to grind your thighs together.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice is quiet and laced with desire when you speak.

“Mhm.” A lazy grin is on Lukas’s face, his arms are spread wide across the back of the couch. “You’re doing so good.”

The compliment goes straight to your cunt, sparks traveling down your thighs at the praise. You move faster, leaning into him more as your hand speeds up, giving him a view of your cleavage. You don’t even notice the desperate whimper that escapes you, but he does.

“Just like that, fuck. Good. Good girl.” Lukas sits up more, a hand moving rest on your thigh as his body begins to tense up. His eyebrows pull together as you continue stroking. Your motions have gotten rough and fast, a physical exhibition of the desperation running through your veins. A string of curses heavily veiled in a Swedish accent leaves Lukas’s mouth, his hips buck roughly into your fist, and with a groan, Lukas Mattson comes in your hand.

Strings of white coats your skin, the fabric of your skirt, the bottom of Lukas’s shirt. He continues thrusting into your hand, chasing his release until he falls against the couch, panting and smiling and spent. Your eyes travel from his face to the ribbons of come on your hand. Instinctually, you bring it to your mouth, licking up the liquid before your thoughts get in the way.

“You are insane.” Lukas’s voice brings you back to the world. He reaches over and guides you to move into his lap. You straddle him, his softening cock sandwiched between your torsos. He’s all smiles, face blissed out and eyes soft. He brings a hand to your chin, looking into your eyes before placing a surprisingly light kiss to your lips.

Things are quiet for a moment, your head tucked into Lukas’s neck and his hands around the small of your back. It feels delicate, almost loving, almost corny. It partially scares you, being so intimate with someone you’ve just met, with someone so powerful. But the captivation outweighs the fear. He feels like the Earth; strong, devoted, all-consuming. You could try to leave but he would be everywhere, and you would come back to him.

You stay at Lukas’s that night, wrapped in white sheets with his arm thrown languidly across your waist. In the morning, he tells you that’s the best he’s slept in weeks. You let him see you with smeared makeup and messy hair, listen to him talk about Stockholm and pasta and the sun. He texts you to make sure you get home safe, then texts you a photo of him working on his laptop. You can’t help the smile that comes to your face when you talk to him, one so obvious you have to hide it in public. He calls you every night.

It’s the closest you’ve come to a relationship, even if it’s something you need to hide from the world. He’s funny and weird and bold and drastic. You feel his hands on your skin in your dreams, like your body is a memory of his touch. He makes you happy, makes you perverted. Things move fast and slow at the same time. It’s confusing and clear all at once.

You’d choose it all over again if you could go back

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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into-moment-stop-cup · 20 hours

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https://jamie-014.szhdyy.com.cn/k/SqFlm85

#tarot cards #shanina shaik #stray kids smut #sai #alice oseman #rachel berry #fall out boy #ariadna majewska #collection #party #The xx #thor ragnarok #titanic #percico #alexander skarsgard

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mashasnaill · 8 months

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Alex and his funny t-shirts 🙃

#alexander skarsgard #alex skarsgard #skarsgard #alexander skarsgård #skarsgard smut #eric northman #askarsedit

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raewritesfiction · 2 years

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Bed Rock [Alexander Skarsgard]

A/N: thank you dear Anonny for this great idea.

Plot: going at it with Alex and oops! The bed breaks!

Pairing: female!reader X Alexander Skarsgard

Warnings: smut; doggy, dirty talk, unprotected sex.

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @jaseminedenise @nikkitasevoli @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @ravenmoore14 @heywhatssgood

—-

The evening had been amazing; dinner and dancing followed by a movie and drinks, and more drinks and then in the cab on the way home you knew exactly where the rest of the night would go as Alex got handsy with you; one sliding up under your skirt just out of sight of the rear-view mirror. He teased you the entire half an hour drive back and savoured your small pants against him when you nuzzled into his neck to hide your face.

Your clothes had come off before the door was locked and Alex had eaten you mercilessly on the dining room table making you squeal out his name multiple times. He had carried you to the bedroom where he had shed his remaining clothes to the floor and bounced you down onto the bed, flipping you onto all fours and kneeling on the floor to eat you from the back.

His hums and moans drove you wild with lust and it took less time for you to be begging for his cock than usual, his hand landed hard on your ass leaving an instant red mark and making you gasp his name.

“Alex please…” you pant and groan loudly as another orgasm rips through you.

He pulls away slowly and spanks your other ass cheek to match the marks, gripping your hips tight Alex pushes into your dripping wet cunt with ease. His hips snap and he’s fully sheathed inside you; he gives you no chance to catch your breath before he sets a rough fast pace.

You grip the bed sheets and call out on every thrust of his hips; highly sensitive from the number of orgasms he had already pulled out of you, your inner walls tighten and pulse along his thick length drawing out long and low moans from deep in his chest.

Alex scratches down your back and kneels on the edge of the bed for a better angle, grinding his hips into you against your g-spot; something he never had any issue finding. Your knuckles turn white as you tighten your grip on the blankets, stretching your arms out in front of you to grip the mattress instead, your ass pushes back against Alex and you rock your hips. He groans and stills himself for a few moments, watching you fuck yourself along his cock.

“That’s it baby girl, take what you need from me..” he licks his lips and pants. “Love seeing that ass bounce back on me..” Alex spanks you again and digs in his fingers to leave bruises.

“Alex… baby…Sir… fuck, daddy! Fuck me!” You pant and moan his name, gasping when you feel his hand weave into your hair and pull your head back. He snaps his hips and thrusts into you fast and hard, his sweaty skin slapping against your own and mixing with the sound of the creaking bed, headboard hitting the wall.

Unable to do anything except groan and whine in pleasure, you let Alex pull you back onto this slick cock and control everything.

The bed moves suddenly and slips, the bottom legs breaking under pressure from your movements. Alex groans and lands further into you as the bed collapses under you “Fuck…!”

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop!” You moan and shift your position a little to get the angle back.

He pants and grunts as the bed continues to crack along the struts “Fuck…oh god..” he splays a hand on your lower back. “Cum for me…”

You whine and reach down to your clit, circling yourself quickly while you reach out with your other hand to grip anything within reach. “Fuck fuck fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut and call out roughly as your body trembles and another orgasm takes you over.

Alex Pants and moans loudly, watching your wetness squirt out around his cock and your muscles try to push him out; he pushes deep again and grinds his hips arching and letting out a long groan with his own release.

You both relax down after a few moments and Alex slips out of you, gently moving you onto your side and though your legs still tremble and feel like jello you manage to shuffle yourself to face him.

“So…we broke the bed…” you breathe heavily and run a hand through your hair.

“Just a little… I was looking for an excuse to buy a new one anyway…” he pulls you close and kisses your forehead.

#Alexander skarsgard smut #Alexander skarsgård #Alexander skarsgard imagine #imagine #request #alexander skarsgard

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skarsgazing · 3 months

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Obsidian - Chapter 2

Without question, it could be said that Mia Hastings was a morning person. She liked to wake up strictly before the sun rose as it gave her a feeling of confidence, like she had the upper hand on the massive ball of plasma. So, she was up and about at around 5:30 am.

Now, to say her apartment was a shit-hole, as she liked to describe it, would be a massive overstatement, especially in a place like New York and in a neighborhood like Tribeca.

However, when you grow up in an acre-sized property and are part of the über-rich 2% of the world population, anything aside from that would be a definite downgrade; Despite the circumstances, Mia wasn’t particularly snobby but rather not accustomed. When you have it all handed to you, and suddenly you have to fend for yourself, it can be a bit of a trainwreck.

So she gagged as the fork left her mouth, getting a good taste of the scrambled eggs she had just finished cooking minutes ago. She sighed, giving up on her cooking journey and grabbing some yogurt instead.

"How can you mess up scrambled eggs?" she thought, letting out a big sigh.

After the punch that the small setback had made in her ego and in the confidence juice she had for the day, she decided to go somewhere where she had more reign - her closet.

A strapless leather-like corset, a long purposely worn-out denim skirt with a side slit–obviously, long black high-heeled boots, bracelets, earrings, rings, an obnoxiously expensive diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch, which she never took off, and the most ridiculously small black handbag you can imagine. Her hair, always down and in contained chaos, and her makeup subtle but visible.

Beauty always came naturally to Mia, effortlessly weaving through her life much like the privileges that accompanied her affluent background. While she, like any human, had her share of awkward years during her formative phase, her journey through adolescence was marked by a transformation akin to an unfolding flower. Mia's appearance seemed to defy the usual struggles of self-discovery, as if the art of looking good was engraved into her very being.

Her features, meticulously curated and showcased, reflected a careful grooming that hinted at a certain artistry. It was not just about wearing the right clothes or applying the perfect makeup; it was an intuitive sense of what complemented her unique attributes and emotions. Mia exuded an air of confidence, born not only from her upbringing but from an innate understanding of her physical self.

Content and playfully admiring herself in the mirror, Mia's excitement bubbled over, prompting her to almost leap from her room to the living room couch. The plush, dark-green velvet-like sofa, large enough to accommodate five people, embraced her with its inviting comfort.

A plan formulated in her mind as she dialed the familiar number on her phone, watching the also familiar name on the screen. She had decided that she didn’t want to abide by all of her father's rules and was determined to find a workaround. So, she was ideating an escape plan or something that could buy her more time - or buy her anything, for that matter.

“You realize it’s fucking early, you psycho?” a groggy voice answered on the other side of the line.

“Hi Benny,” Mia replied, unconsciously smiling at her brother’s voice.

The Hastings family tree was a bit tangled and extensive, not worth getting into at the moment. But one thing could be said: Mia loved her older brothers, Benjamin and Sebastian, twins, in that order.

She would say she liked Ben better, as he was less prone to lecturing her and giving her a hard time, but, in truth, she loved them both equally — even if they didn’t share the same mother, as she didn’t with any of her other siblings.

“A curse or a blessing?” She would often think.

“Hey, doll,” Benjamin said, his voice a little muted on the phone. “What’s cracking?”

“No one says that anymore,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes. “And it’s not that early, anyway.” She quickly glanced at her watch, her eyes widening as she realized it was indeed quite late, or she was about to be quite late.

“Hey, I need a favor,” Mia continued, unconsciously rolling a piece of her hair on her finger.

She heard some movement on the other side of the line, as if Benjamin was getting out of bed—or in, she couldn’t tell. Then, a big sigh.

“Mia, my hands are tied,” he finally spoke. His tone was soft, loving, and ultimately, apologetic.

“I haven’t even told you yet,” she protested, her brows furrowing.

“Dad… you know how he is. I can’t help you much,” he said. Mia held back the impulse to hang up the phone, not wanting to let her anger control her actions.

“Benjamin, you don’t know how it is. He is—he—I need some money,” Mia left out, practically whining. “Ben, I’m dead serious.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and she felt the now-usual frustration growing in on her.

“Listen, I’ll go visit you soon. I can’t fight dad on this; he is… really angry,” Benjamin spoke.

“I don’t want you to visit,” Mia quickly replied, and quickly regretted. She sighed out loudly. “I’m sorry, I do want you to. I just, I can’t even use the cards,” Mia continued.

“I know, it’s fucked up. Just give him time; he’ll come around. I’m sure of it,” he said, trying to give some reassurance to his sister, even if he didn’t fully believe it.

“He won’t, he’s the devil,” she said, and she heard Benjamin audibly laugh.

“Hang in there. I’ll try to talk to him, alright?” he added.

“Thank you, Ben.” Mia let out. “Could you at least send me an Uber or something? I’m late to work.”

"An Uber? Late to work?" He responded, the surprise evident in his voice. Mia could almost tell he was raising an eyebrow as he spoke.

"Yes, stupid. That's my life now. Can you?" She said, her cheeks growing hot as she grew tired of giving explanations, and it was only the start of the goddamn day.

He reluctantly agreed, unsure of how to even use the app. When he finally did, Mia got inside the small vehicle and, to the surprise of no one, arrived at the giant building thirty minutes late.

She entered with ease, took the elevator, and clicked the heels of her boots into the floor as she walked through the busy room towards her workstation. There, she was quickly greeted by none other than the handmaid of the devil, as she now liked to refer to her.

"Late again, Amelia," Mia quickly said, interrupting the older woman as she opened her mouth to speak. "I know, I got caught up with something..."

She received a glare from Miranda and a subtle eye-twitch – she resisted the urge to smile.

"You come in here early and you leave late. Is that clear? Filming starts in two weeks, and we need to sort out all of the wardrobe. Zak's waiting for you in the fitting rooms," Miranda spoke, her tone never failing to make Mia's skin crawl, as if she was purposefully wanting her to feel like a useless worm. Mia fought the urge to roll her eyes and simply crossed her arms, concentrating on keeping her big mouth shut for once.

"Fourth floor, room 3," Miranda continued, her voice now louder as she failed to get any kind of response from Mia.

Mia threw her arms in the air, turned around managing not to say anything, and started walking towards the elevator.

"And we'll talk about the dress code later," she heard Miranda say in the distance.

"Dress code?" Mia pondered as she walked into the elevator. The last thing she needed was this little piece of freedom taken away, especially for some simpleton outfit that she wouldn't like at all. She refused in her head. No dress code.

"There you are, my little polished diamond." Zak stretched his arms out toward her, and Mia felt his warm embrace around her as he affectionately wrapped her in a hug.

"Sorry I'm late," Mia replied, still in his arms.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he joked, his green eyes lighter in the daylight.

"I'm so hungover; it's sickening," Zak continued, now plunging himself into a chair and throwing his head back. "And we have so much to do today." He whined at Mia.

In a different scenario, Mia could've soaked in the experience with much more relish. While not well-versed in the intricacies of filmmaking, the world of crafting clothes was a familiar embrace for her. She found a peculiar liking for her father's brand, despite its undeniable connection to him. The designs, fabrics, and meticulous attention to detail spoke to her, creating a bond that stretched beyond mere family connections.

Yet, Mia had a knack for shelving her emotions. She swiftly redirected her thoughts, honing in on the challenges and prospects awaiting her in the day ahead. The vibrant atmosphere of the film set was becoming almost like a refuge, providing a momentary escape from the intricate web of her personal life.

Similarly, a wave of uncertainty coursed through Alexander's veins. While no stranger to the silver screen, this marked his debut as a producer. The dynamics were shifting; earning money differed from investing it, especially in a project of such magnitude. Insecurity wasn't a familiar companion for him, nor did the prospect of financial matters typically ruffled his feathers. Wealth, after all these years, was a resource he possessed abundantly.

However, this venture held a unique significance. It wasn't just about capital; it was about aspiration and the desire for a successful outcome. Alexander had poured time and effort into the pre-production phase, meticulously overseeing every detail. As he juggled also learning his lines for the role he'd play in the film, he extended the invitation to some close friends to join the project. Their presence, familiar and comforting, served as a constant morale booster.

A faint smile played on his lips as he observed Joel engrossed in studying his script. The tranquility of the moment shattered when the abrupt sound of a cup meeting the table echoed through the room.

"This jet lag is killing me. Can we go get a refill?" Joel sighed, gently placing the papers next to the table and standing up from his chair.

The Swedish actor, also a close friend to Alexander, stood just shy of 6'2, shorter than him, yet his distinct frame seemed to occupy more space in the room. His hazel eyes fixed on his older friend.

"Alex?" he called, breaking Alexander from his thoughts. Alexander looked at him, realizing he had missed part of the conversation. Furrowing his brows, he leaned forward, attempting to concentrate on what Joel had just said.

"Coffee run?" Joel asked again.

"Definitely," Alexander replied, feeling fatigued from the lack of sleep of the previous night.

His long strides made almost no sound against the polished concrete floors as he walked side by side with Joel towards the break room.

The room exuded a dim ambiance, adorned with golden industrial lights hanging from the ceiling. Along the back wall, a long carved wood bar was the centerpiece, complemented by recessed lighting illuminating it from the floor. An array of cups, coffee machines, and additives were enticingly on display.

Moving toward the bar, Alexander was greeted by a delightful sight. Standing at the wooden bar was Mia, accompanied by Zak, the head of the costume department. Alexander stopped just shy of her, the desire to reach out and touch almost overwhelming.

As Mia spun around, laughing at something Zak had just said, she bumped into Alexander. His large hand swiftly clutched her forearm, preventing her from spilling her drink. Her eyes traveled up his well-built chest, meeting his gaze.

"Careful there," he cautioned, his voice resonating with a delicious deep tone that momentarily left Mia speechless. Nodding in a daze, she couldn't find words. He looked incredibly good, donned in a casual black sweater and jeans, sleeves rolled up to reveal his smooth skin. Realizing his hand lingered a bit too long, Alexander pulled away.

Joel, catching Alexander's gaze fixed on Mia, raised his eyebrows at the unexpected behavior of his usually more reserved friend.

"Oh, hi," Zak greeted, giving the two of them an appreciative glance. "If this isn't my lucky day," he added with a playful smirk, earning a laugh from Joel.

"Hey, Mia. I had the chance to work my magic on this one during fittings earlier. Meet Joel," Zak introduced with a smile. "And this one, you already met yesterday. You were on your knees, if I remember correctly."

Following Joel's laughter, Alexander noticed Mia's lack of hesitation in response to Zak's comment. The image stirred a reaction in him, making him look away with a chuckle, trying to dispel the suggestive thoughts.

"Hi. Mia," she greeted the pair, deliberately avoiding exclusive eye contact with Alexander. He couldn't help but notice her soft lips curving as she spoke, and his eyes were drawn to the mesmerizing movement of her long earrings, casting subtle flashes of light. Almost unconsciously, his gaze traveled down her neck, appreciating the way her outfit sculpted her body perfectly. He fought to look away, once again. Observing Joel's subtle glance as well, Alexander frowned.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mia," he said, his eyes fixed on her, savoring the natural way her name sounded on his lips. Mia felt her heartbeat quicken, yet she stood confidently, not shying away from the attention, maintaining a composed exterior despite feeling like a total wreck inside.

"Long day ahead?" Joel asked, gesturing toward the two very-full cups of coffee Zak and Mia were holding.

"God, tell me about it," Zak replied, rolling his eyes and appearing somewhat annoyed. "You actors got it easy, I swear."

Alexander's smile widened.

"Are you an actor as well?" Joel inquired, his eyes fixed on Mia, who couldn't help but notice how pretty his hazel eyes were.

"Oh no, I'm on wardrobe—kind of," Mia replied, shrugging and furrowing her brows a bit as she spoke.

"Kind of?" Alexander humored, now intrigued.

He stretched his arm to grab a cup from behind her, leaning towards her and closing the distance between them. Not too close to make her uncomfortable, but near enough to catch the scent of her sweet perfume. After a moment, she stepped aside, clearing up space to let him prepare his drink, keenly observing his swift movements.

"Yeah, it's complicated," she paused. "But I guess I'm on wardrobe."

"Mhm," Alexander hummed, his eyebrows pressed together and a slight smirk on his face. Mia bit her lip, almost instinctively, her back pressed into the wooden bar, as she took a good look at the tall man standing close to her.

"Ah, we gotta get going," Zak interrupted, holding his wrist close to his eyes as a notification came in through his smart-watch. "But we'll see each other..." he paused to think. "At four? I think the meeting's at four, we'll see." He started to walk, gesturing towards Mia to follow along.

"It was nice meeting you," she softly said, and Alexander fought the urge to devour her right then and there. Her gentle voice echoed through his head. Mia offered Joel a warm smile, and then her eyes fixed on Alexander, who was already looking at her.

"It was nice meeting you too, Mia from wardrobe—kind of," Alexander spoke, grinning. She chuckled, and he thought it was magnificent. He then really struggled not to turn around as he heard her walk away with Zak.

"What the hell was that all about?" Joel inquired as soon as they were out of hearing range, poking at his friend.

"What was what about?" Alexander asked, taking a sip of his hot coffee.

"That," Joel replied, motioning towards the door where Mia passed seconds ago, a mocking smile on his face.

"Oh, shut up, totally unprofessional" Alexander rolled his eyes, brushing it off and half-smiling.

"Mhm," Joel continued. "If I didn't know you any better..."

"Uh-huh, if I didn't know you any better..." Alexander replied, and Joel shook his head, laughing, raising his left hand to show the ring he wore.

“Happily married, I’m afraid,” he said, smirking.

“Well, I’m happily single,” Alexander replied.

“I’m sure,” Joel teased. “I’m sure of it.”

“I truly am,” he replied, smiling but getting a bit defensive, having had this same conversation several times.

“What about the girl you were seeing, the one from London?” Joel inquired, also taking a sip of his coffee.

“Same old. It didn’t work out,” Alexander said, with a stoic expression.

But Joel knew better, knew him better. Alexander was probably the most centered person he had ever met, with a good family life and upbringing, and the dashing shine of fame hadn’t really affected him at all. However, if he had one flaw, it would be that he never stayed long enough to allow himself to fully experience intimacy and attachment with anyone.

There was this one girl, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out in the end, as he liked to say. Joel would often think that he really didn’t want to make it work, that maybe he hadn’t met the right person yet.

Joel raised his hands, giving up on the subject, and the pair went back to their secluded room.

Mia sighed in her workstation, once again left alone and managing order. Miranda had denied her entry to the famed meeting, despite Zak's suggestion that it would benefit her to start getting involved. Cursing Miranda a million times, Mia remained at her desk, matching polaroids to folders and organizing lookbooks for future reference.

As she held a photo closer to her eyes, the becoming familiar frame of Alexander caught her attention. He looked hot; there was no other way to describe it. Against a regular white backdrop, he sported military black pants, no shirt. Mia took her sweet time analyzing every detail of his well-built torso. Almost in auto-pilot, she carefully taped the photo to his folder, brushing her finger along his name.

From a young age, perhaps too young in her opinion, Mia had been aware of the effect she had on the male species. She noticed how they stumbled over their words, exchanged meaningful glances, and struggled to hold her gaze. Their eyes often wandered into the curves of her body. While she found it somewhat disgusting most of the time, she also enjoyed the knowledge that she held some kind of power over them. Right now, she yearned for that power over this particular man. For one of the first times in her life, she wanted to feel desired by him.

She heard the commotion of people leaving the conference room, and though she couldn't see clearly, she guessed the meeting was over when Zak approached her while talking to Sophie, co-head of set design, and Jeremy. A chuckle escaped her when Zak gave her a look, motioning towards the latter.

“Yeah, just planning and boring people talking,” Zak finally said upon reaching her. “You didn’t miss anything important.”

“This wasn’t so much fun either,” Mia replied, smiling.

“Yuck, I know,” he rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, we’ll cry about it tomorrow,” he motioned towards the exit.

“I… actually think I’ll stay a bit to finish this. Miranda will kill me if I don’t.”

Zak raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment.

“Look at you, being an obedient little mouse. Who knew…” he teased.

“Shut up,” Mia chuckled. “Maybe she’ll let me join the other meetings.”

“You know you’re kind of her boss, right? Since you own the company she works for,” he said.

“I don’t think I’m in a favorable position right now,” Mia replied, pressing her palms on the table, frustrated.

“Well, suit yourself, doll. But don’t stay too late, okay?” he said, a slight drop of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mia brushed off as she continued with her tasks.

It was considerably late when Mia finally finished her work, even though a good chunk of the extra time was spent on her phone, a subtle act of protest, she thought. Putting her phone in her purse, she turned off the small lamp and made her way toward the elevator, impatiently pressing the button six times.

“Leaving?” a voice from behind made her jump. She turned to see Alexander.

“Sorry,” he quickly added, chuckling.

“It’s fine,” Mia replied, offering him a comforting smile. “Yeah, they totally exploit me, working hard, all of that.”

And Alexander thought of a few ways he could exploit her.

The elevator doors opened with a loud sound, and Mia stepped in, followed by the tall man. He pressed -1, and she pressed 0.

Alexander furrowed his brows, noticing she wasn’t headed to the underground parking.

“Are you taking a cab home?” He inquired, almost unconsciously.

Mia looked at him, confused.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Mhm,” Alexander hummed. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He grinned, his eyes holding her gaze. He laughed at her confused expression.

“You can't really be walking around the city with a watch like that,” Alexander added, gesturing towards Mia’s wrist.

“Oh,” she said, realizing he was probably right. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

Alexander stretched his arm to press the button to close the doors as soon as they opened on the ground floor.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, more as a statement than as a question.

“That’s really not necessary,” Mia started, but Alexander gave her a stern look that made her snap her mouth shut instantly, an uncommon occurrence for her.

“It’s not a problem,” he added, smiling.

There was something about elevators—the noise, the limited space, God knows what—that always seemed to multiply and elevate sexual tension to the max. And God, was there tension. They stepped outside onto the parking space, and their arms brushed together as they did so, perhaps for less than a few seconds but enough to make Mia shiver. He didn’t seem to notice.

“So, why are you here so late?” Mia asked, the sound of her heels resonating in the almost empty space. “Are you having a secret affair or something?” She teased, wanting to see his reaction.

“No affairs,” he added, his lips curved into a half-smile. “I’m also a producer, so I had to stay a bit later."

“Oh, so you’re one of the big bosses,” Mia added, playfully looking at him through her lashes, testing him.

He nodded with a subtle grin on his face and started walking towards a shiny, black, Aston Martin parked up against a reserved space. He took note of how Mia didn’t even flinch when she saw the expensive car, and he started to put 2 + 2 together in his head—no reaction, the expensive watch, the way she carried herself—and it intrigued him a lot.

He unlocked it, pulling open the passenger side door for her, then grabbed her hand, easing her into the seat—taking a good and hard look at her full cleavage while she entered, before walking around to the other side, silently thanking whichever higher power for a second to breathe and clear his head.

“This girl,” he thought, shaking his head.

After she gave him her address, the car took off. Alexander didn’t need GPS, knowing the city well enough to navigate the streets with ease. He drove with one hand, palm pressed to the wheel, guiding it smoothly as they traveled through the city.

Mia nibbled on her lip, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. Alexander’s right hand rested on his lap, violently wanting to be on hers.

“So… where are you from?” Alexander broke the ice—or the tension—taking a quick glance at her, and her bare shoulders.

“Seattle, I guess,” she replied, hesitant.

“I guess—kind of,” Alexander laughed. “You’re being very mysterious, you know that?”

Mia laughed, her eyes fixed on the way Alexander’s face changed completely as he smiled, like a beam of light illuminated him from within.

“Sorry—”

“It’s complicated,” he interrupted, teasing.

Mia hummed, and her lips curved into a smile.

“I was born there, and my family is from there, but I spent a lot of time abroad at a boarding school,” she began, surprising Alexander with her sudden honesty and openness. “And… My father got me this job, so I’m not sure of where I fit.” Mia added before giving him time to ask more questions.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, good old nepotism,” he paused, taking a moment to look at her. “My dad got me a bunch of jobs as well; he was an established actor before me.”

“Well, my case is the other way around. He got me this as a punishment of sorts,” she complained, and Alexander almost melted at the sweet way she pouted. Then he chuckled.

“How come?” he inquired.

Mia hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get into the subject. She had an objective, after all, and it had nothing to do with her personal life. She had this obscene tendency to overshare and hadn’t noticed she had been feeding him more than she wanted.

“Okay, okay, too much about me,” she said, leaning closer to him, resting one of her elbows on the center console of the car. Alexander tensed up at the sudden closeness but kept his stoic expression, making Mia fight the urge to roll her eyes. Was he being hard to get, or was he just not interested in her?

“I want to know about the famous actor in front of me,” she said intently.

Alexander tightened his grip on the steering wheel and let out a hefty sigh, a subtle smirk playing on his face.

“I’ll bore you to death,” he replied, his tone lighthearted.

“Well, then no more information about me,” she said, sitting back in her seat. Her hand brushed against Alexander’s knee as she adjusted, causing him to catch his breath.

“That’s a shame,” he responded.

Peeking at her, he noticed she was trying to suppress a smile, gazing out the window. Instantly, he felt more at ease and confident. The car glided smoothly, hugging the sidewalk in front of her building. The air felt tense with anticipation.

Mia’s mind raced, pondering what to say.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to lean on her side against the seat. “for the ride." She continued, “It was very kind of you.”

“My pleasure. Are you okay getting in?” Alexander's tone was serious, genuinely concerned for her safety.

Delving into her small purse, she pulled out her keys and jingled them in front of his face. He nodded. “Good.”

“Well, drive safe.” She smiled, leaned over, and planted a kiss on his scruffy cheek, dangerously close to his lips. “Goodnight, Alexander.”

His lips curled up at the sound of his name from her lips, and he had to physically restrain himself from reacting.

“Goodnight, Mia.”

He leaned down slightly to watch her enter her building, not looking away until she got inside safely. He would’ve walked her to her door, but he was worried it’d seem like he was trying to sleep with her. As bad as he wanted to, he thought it would be unprofessional.

As soon as her door closed, he slammed his head back into the seat and let out a groan. Pulling away from the sidewalk, he sped the whole way home.

------------------------------------------------- Notes: I'll probably go back and edit a couple of things but I wanted to post this today cause I'll be traveling this weekend and it's been long enough already lol love y'all CC: @differentcatcat

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard fanfic #alexander skarsgard smut #obsidian fanfic #skarsgard

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blackleatherjacketz · 3 months

Text

Whatever Happens First

Eric Northman x Female Reader

Summary: Capitalism is a prison, and you enter into a contract with Eric to repay your student loans, not expecting to catch feelings.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Sexual Content, Vampires, Blood Sucking, Prostitution, Kissing, Biting, Vaginal Sex, Cock Warming

Word Count: 500+

Read more Eric!

You hadn’t expected to fall this hard for Eric when you entered into this contract, figuring you could spread your legs for him until your student loans were officially paid off. But the way he looked at you when he pushed inside, the way he moaned your name like it was something sacred really dragged you in deeper than you had ever planned to go. In the beginning he was so quick to pull out, leaving you to the bitter cold solitude of your satin sheets, but each session you had together seemed to extend a little bit longer than the last. His bites had turned into kisses, his grasps into caresses as he purposefully took more time focusing on your guaranteed pleasure before finally letting his fangs emerge.

The look in his eye tonight is absolutely devious, as if he hadn’t just spent the past three hours taking you in every position possible, his body entwining with yours until you started to ache from how many times he’s stretched you from the inside out. Your inner muscles still flutter at the tantalizing thought of him driving that blissful feeling up into your flesh, how insatiable he looked as he generously fed your body’s most carnal cravings. You can’t get over how quickly his eyes rolled back into his head as he continually got lost in your viscera, sweat dripping down his face and neck from the insurmountable deluge of pleasure he poured into you.

But suddenly the pain in your thigh grows sharp, cramping into your muscle in a jarring, burning twinge up through you and into your hip as he continues to hold himself inside you. You shift your weight in order to hop off in hopes to ease the pain, but his strong hands pull you back down on top of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He looks up at you through heavily hooded lids.

“Eric,” you whine, giving him an annoyed look as you press down on his chest to get some leverage.

He only smirks as you exert yourself trying to get off of him again, chuckling as you hopelessly try to overpower him and break the connection between you.

“You wanna be a good little whore for me, don’t you?” Eric’s words shock you to your core as he sits up to kiss your chest, his hands still firm on your hips.

“Eric, please,” you whisper as he kisses his way up your neck, licking the remnants of blood off your skin and into his mouth.

“Don’t you?” He repeats breathily, gently thrusting his hips up into you despite still being flaccid, knowing full well what it will do to you.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, nearly jumping out of your skin as another wave of ecstasy works its way up through your sensitive, overstimulated tissue.

“I thought so.” He kisses your mouth sloppily, lazily licking your teeth and tongue before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth with a mischievous grin. He then spins you around and turns you on your side, wrapping his thigh around your knee to keep you in place in one fluid motion. He presses himself even deeper inside, his relaxed member still bigger than those of your past lovers at full attention as he kisses the back of your neck.

“Then you can keep me inside you like this until I fall asleep.” He playfully bites your earlobe, sucking on it as he tugs it away from your face before letting it bounce back into place. “Or until I get hard again. Whatever happens first.”

#eric northman #alexander skarsgard #true blood #eric northman smut #eric northman fan fiction #vampires #vampire #louisiana #eric northman x reader #eric northman x female reader

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secondhand-snow · 2 months

Text

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door.

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off.

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy.

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk.

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile.

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly.

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

“What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said.

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts.

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input.

“I am inside, Leave it.”

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas… I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding.

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage.

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect.

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment.

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be.

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks.

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold.

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks.

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it.

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it.

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?” His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs.

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock.

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough.

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it.

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure.

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly.

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets.

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you.

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty.

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting.

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers.

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance.

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.”

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety.

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.”

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence.

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter.

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading.

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?”

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.”

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family.

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known.

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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mrsarnasdelicious · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 8

Eric Northman - Begging

Randomised Character/Person - Prompt from this list

Eric's tongue runs along your neck. He groans, pressing closer against you. His fangs scrape lightly over your skin and you shudder. He does not break your skin, not yet. He will not do so without your permission.

You know he is needy, but you want to put his resolve to the test.

He nips at your earlobe, careful not to use his fangs. You moan loudly in response. "Gods." He swears under his breath. He sucks at the spot just below your ear. "Please." He whispers, before running his tongue along the shell of your ear. You moan again, clawing at his shirt.

"Pl-please what." You manage, your knees made of jelly.

Eric swiftly brings you to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Please let me taste you." He hisses, his fangs running along your skin once more. "I need your blood so bad, please, baby, please." He asks around a thick moan. His Swedish accent makes his words somehow even more sensual. "Please." He repeats the word like it is a chant.

He kisses up your neck again, rocking his pelvis up at yours. "Please baby, please." He hisses, his fangs scraping over your skin with a little more insistence. "I am so thirsty for you." He growls. "I need your blood, please." His voice becomes a whine on the last plea.

"Just a little, then." You cooe. "Oh fuck, that you baby." Eric groans, licking a little more at your neck before sinking his fangs in. You moan softly and he grunts in a sated way. He takes a slow draft of your blood and rocks his crotch more firmly against yours. "I want to fuck you." He growls.

"Beg me for it." You purr, pulling him away from your neck.

#eric northman #eric northman x reader #true blood #alexander skarsgard #smut under the cut - ish

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x-prettyboy-x · 2 months

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Does anyone know of any Eric Northman writers with requests open?😭 please I'm desperate‼️🫶

#eric northman smut #eric northman #true blood #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgård

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voxmortuus · 9 months

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Hi! It’s me the anon requesting for the dark fic about Alexander.. and honestly, write whatever makes you inspired about haha it’s up to you. He played a character in the stand as Randall Flagg so maybe something with that character?! Thank you 😍

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Randall Flagg x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Stand ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 4.5k ⇘ SUMMARY:⇙ All your life you've been seeing this man with a smiley faced pin in your dreams, well the end has come, and you're left with a choice. Tired, hungry, thirsty, and alone, you decide to take the kindness of one Randall Flagg under the impression that it's what you wanted. Agreeing to stay things quickly take a turn for the worst and you are forced to become his incubator. ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ None of these trigger warnings are in order, so just read them and remember then as you read this. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT | Talk of Murder | Manipulation | Persuading for reader to keep drinking | Sexual coercion and Rape | Slapping both reader and reader slapping him | Spitting | Fighting Reader | Unprotected PiV | Choking Reader | Slamming Reader against glass window & floor | Hinted that reader has a violent past | Reader's face gets held down by boot | Abuse to Reader | Threatening Reader's life | Threatening Reader w/knife | Stabbing Reader | Blood & Blood Play | Captive Reader | Reader gets chained to bed | Reader is forced into breeding | Forced Impregnation | Forced groping | Forced inebriation | Forced Threesome | Unknowing drugging of reader | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ I hope this brings you some joy. Also I'm sorry if this is just horribly written. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IN STORY DIVIDER:⇙ @voxmortuus ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @punksimulationn ⇘ TAGGING:⇙ @lenareallylovestoread ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was a long walk from Winthrop, WA. Not to mention utterly trying, at this point, you were no stranger to death, let alone having to protect yourself. This outbreak made people go bananas. From people wanting to kill you, rape you, likely wanting to eat you, to those trying to tell you to seek out Mother Abigail, and those telling you to seek out Randall, you couldn't tell what was up who was down, and where was up. This outbreak has sent people into this pit of what? Craziness. Destruction. There were times when it wasn't so bad. Peaceful even. No cars speeding, no one screaming, no violence, just you, and nature.

After walking for almost three weeks, you're exhausted, damn near the point of tears, you're hungry and thirsty, and your body aches in places you didn't know could ache. There's this part of you that just wants to quit. But then you remember the dreams, that yellow smiley face pin, the blonde man that wanted to give you a bed to sleep in, a tall glass of ice water. He was kind to you, all he wanted you to do was to find him. Something about you being special. But why were you special? You were just some girl living in Winthrop, Washington... what made you so special that this mysterious man has been watching you. But the more you sit there, the more you think, the more you realize he's been watching you for a long time. Since you were a little girl. You remember the pin. His denim outfit, and the sound of his boots.

Wiping your face from the tears you look around, seeing more signs telling you who to follow and how far to go. Sniffling a moment you try to contain yourself, telling yourself once you find this man, you'll get your tall glass of water, you'll get your bed, and a shower. You just need to find him. You'll know it's him because you'll know that pin, you'll know that smile, that voice. And if he touches you, you'll know that too. Just have to go a little farther. Looking around you choose to take the well-traveled path. At least at this moment, you know it's bound to lead you somewhere. Especially out in the desert.

After a lot of self-motivation to not give up and to keep walking, you find yourself standing there on the border of walking into this ivory building so to speak, or to turn around and find yourself someplace else, was this where you needed to be? Probably not, but you know what, maybe it was too late to turn back, after all, you came all this way. Looking down at your feet, you were tired, worn out, thirsty, and hungry, and you just wanted a place to rest your feet, even for the night. Maybe this will be all right, right? Letting out a heavy breath, you cross into the location; it was like night and day. Looking around you felt like maybe you had made a major mistake being here.

Letting out a heavy breath you close your eyes for a brief moment and then a voice jolted you.

"What are you doing here?" They asked.

Looking over, you lick your lips. "I umm... I'm just passing through." You state, but the look they were giving you, that answer wasn't good enough.

"Leave her alone." a voice, a familiar voice, boomed out of nowhere, you know this voice, you've heard this voice, you've seen who this voice belongs to.

The person slowly backs away and you watch this man approaching you, dressed in denim with a bright yellow smiley-faced pin attached to his jacket you look him over, rubbing your eyes a moment you shake your head, he couldn't be the same one, it couldn't be, it really couldn't be. He was handsome, but his aura didn't read so handsome, not this time. Your heart pounded in your chest. Licking your lips, you were so thirsty. You look over him as he approaches you.

"You've come to the right place, I've been expecting you. Come with me, I can only imagine how thirsty you are." He states as he escorts you a little further.

"Oh, oh no, I don't want to Impose." You state stopping in your tracks and looking over everything, and look back at him, "You've been waiting for me?"

"Darlin' you've come this far, this must be where you want to be." He smiles a charming smile. "You can't tell me that you don't want a nice cold glass of water?" He asked. Looking over you, he licks his lips. "Don't you remember?"

Water did sound appealing but you don't quite answer. "I'd remember that pin anywhere." You stated looking at it. It gave you a small sense of happiness, maybe even a little bit of hope. You reach out to touch it.

"Or maybe something to eat, here, you'll never go without. Doesn't that sound good? A bed to sleep in? Food to eat, all you can drink, a place to rest your feet, a place where you matter?" He stops and looks down as you reach out and touch the pin. "You like that, don't you?" He asked with a small smile.

That did sound good, then you look over him and tilt your head. "I do... I really do." You say softly with a small smile before you scoff at yourself, shake your head, and drop your finger from touching the pin.

"You can't tell me that doesn't sound good. This is right where you want to be, you ain't gonna find that anyplace else." He stated with that charming grin. He holds out his hand. "Join me." He smiles again.

Chewing on the corner of your lip you look him over. With some hesitation, you reach forward and place your hand in his.

"Thatta girl." He mused as he takes your hand and kisses it before he takes you toward the large building.

As you walk a little further into the building, you see the debauchery, the craziness of it all, people doing as they pleased, no consequences, at least not that you saw. You were curious admittingly so, but you were still slightly unsure. He was going to have to win you, though, so far he was doing a good job, you were taken by his charm, his calm aura, and the smoothness of his voice. He knew what to say to rope you in, and it wasn't going to be the last time.

As he brings you toward the elevator you look out and down on everyone, your eyes go wide.

"How many were just passing through and chose to stay? Do you know each one of them?" you asked as your gaze keeps on the people below.

He chuckles. "Not all are as lucky as you. I have no idea, probably some more than others, but they are all here for a reason. Just like you." He stated.

He knew things others didn't know, things you've kept secret, he knew of those bad things you've done, and he knew you weren't just passing through. You were no better than the others below, but he has plans for you, plans that are not quite what you're expecting them to be.

Once the elevator reaches the top floor he guides you into his suite. Your jaw clenches as you take in a deep breath. Your body trembled a moment but you felt this soft relaxed feeling wash over you. He lets out a soft chuckle as he looks back at you as you stop and look around a moment before you are beckoned. You just want to take it all in but that was cut somewhat short. As he starts walking down the hall, others stop and stare, muttering to each other. Your brow furrowed a bit, and look down as you start walking closer to a set of double doors. As the doors open you follow him in and you look over your shoulder as you watch the others standing there staring at you and vanish upon the door closing.

You didn't understand why people were staring at you, watching you, even muttering and speaking about you. Why were they so in awe by the fact that the man in your dreams was talking to you and bringing you up to his living space? You had no idea. Biting your lip you let out a soft breath and look down at your feet as you trail behind the tall man dressed in denim. Left, right, left, right, it's like you had to mentally tell yourself to walk forward. Your jaw clenches at yourself, frustrated you had to think about such a mundane task as walking.

"Why were the people staring at me back there? It's like they've never seen you with another person before." You ask, likely chuckling, trying to find it amusing, but truthfully you're too tired to really even care.

"Because you're special, and they don't get to see special all that often."

"Why am I special?" you ask.

"Because you're with me." He smirked.

Getting to someplace for you to sit you look around before taking a seat, you look up at him and your brow furrowed trying to understand what made him so damn special and why was he in your dreams? Maybe it was the fact that you had those prosthetic dreams people talk about. That bit of internal hope of that being it is what fueled you into thinking that maybe you are here for a reason. You sit there and look up over this man for a moment and you try to observe his actions, when he sits, he sits with this calming aura.

Licking your lips you look down at your hands for a moment and think. "Thank you, for giving me a place, even for the night." You state.

"You'll want to stay, trust me." He smirked with a small wink.

"We'll see... I told you, I'm just passing through." You state softly.

He tilts his head and looks over you, he can see with you, it was going to take a little more effort than offering you the world. But that's okay, he wasn't in too much of a rush. Licking his lips he chuckled.

"Of course. Well, at least for tonight, you should rest up, eat something, and maybe think about staying. I could always use a good right hand." He smirked again.

Thinking about him your jaw twitches a moment before you let out a slow breath and nod. "Yeah, I'll think about it." You state looking down a moment as someone came up and offered you a glass of ice-cold water, thanking them and look back toward Randall and search his face.

"What is your name?" You ask.

"Randall." He stated.

"Randall..." you say softly. "You didn't ask me mine."

"I don't need to ask you yours. I know your name. But you're exhausted, have your water, something to eat, and you can find your room right down the hall with your name on a piece of paper hanging on the door." He stated.

Watching him he gets up and makes his way over to the large windows. You could tell he was thinking, or at least that's what you're going to tell yourself. You don't actually know if he is or isn't. But you'd like to assume so.

Smelling the food your head darts in the direction and you smile. It's exactly what you were craving. A delicious hot sandwich with curly fries and a cheese dip sauce. You take a bite and groan in pure satisfaction. Truthfully, as well-mannered as you wanted to be, you scarfed that sandwich down and you kind of hid behind a curtain of dust-filled hair and you let out a soft breath.

You went to speak, to thank him, but he was gone, your brow furrows, and you head to the room you were told was yours, taking the paper from the door you look around, people still staring at you you furrow your brow and walk into the room. Upon walking in you look around, wasting no time, you strip down and take a nice cool shower. Much needed to say the least.

It had been a few days, you had agreed to stay, to give it a chance, and Randall was thrilled to hear it, today was a day you got to spend with Randall, got to see the masses below doing god knows what. Today wasn't just any ordinary day, today you got to oversee a trial, a trial that had damned a man to death. A traitor. You were still trying to understand why he wanted you to see this. But it's because this man knew that you were no stranger to death.

"So, did they kill him?" He asked.

"Yes, they did. Was quite brutal." You stated.

"You're no stranger to that now, are you?" He asked again, looking over your face.

Your brow furrowed and you licked your lips remembering all those years ago. You clear your throat and look up. "I think I'll see myself out now." You state.

"Oh come on, do you really want to do that? You were enjoying your time here. You have everything you ever wanted handed to you. You don't need to want for anything, do you? I can give you so much more." He stated as he walked to you and pulled you close to him.

Your heart started to pound. "I really should go." You state softly.

Tilting your head up he looks into your eyes and shakes his head. "No, you really don't, and you know you don't. You chose to come here. You chose to stay here. This is where you want to be." He stated.

Was he right? He must be. You did choose to stay for the past few days. You did come here on your own accord. He really didn't force you to stay, that was a choice you made. Licking your lips you let out a soft breath and look over him a moment before moving away from him to look out the window. After letting you have a moment, it gave him time to make you a drink.

"Here, drink this, it'll calm your nerves." He stated as he handed you a glass, little did you know that the glass was actually a harsh liquor with some roofie mixed in.

"Thanks." You state as you take the drink and take a sip from it before coughing a moment and looking at him. "What is this?" You ask.

"Just drink it, I promise you'll feel better after." He smiled.

This man hadn't done you wrong yet so may as well right? You sigh a soft sigh and agree to drink the liquor. What he said made sense, and truthfully. Little did you quite realize the subtle manipulation, making it seem it was all your thoughts, that you were the one with the thoughts. Licking your lips you take a sip from the harsh drink and let out a soft breath as it was rough going down. After another sip, you look over at Randall and lick your lips a moment.

"Do you think you could add maybe some sort of fruit flavor to this? It's a bit harsh." You state, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

Though he didn't think of you as ungrateful, he simply chuckled and took the drink, and handed it back to you. "Here, Darlin'. Make sure you drink all of it. No drop left behind." He chuckled.

"Thanks." You state letting out another soft breath you lick at your lips and take a sip.

This fixed drink was much better. So drinking it was like drinking liquid candy. He didn't even ask you instead he started to refill your glass. He hands you the refreshed glass and your brow furrows a moment and you look over at him.

"Drink up, you enjoy that." He smiled.

He wasn't wrong, you brought the glass to your lips and you look over his face before looking down at all the people below. After the first drink, this one was sweeter than the last, maybe it was because he used less liquor, it was good, so it went down easier, and quicker, only for him to bring you a refilled glass. You look over his face and you tilt your head.

"Another?" you ask.

"You didn't finish your other one, take a drink."

You look at him. You could have sworn you finished your last drink. You make a small face and you look at him. "I finished my last one. I know I did."

"No, no you didn't. Here. You had two sips off the last one, take this, finish it, then I'll get you something to eat." He stated.

Taking the drink from him you clench your jaw and thank him again, and you start to slowly drink it before you realize that you're starting to feel a little dizzy. You move to take a seat but he keeps you standing up. He stands behind you and places his hands on either side of your hips. You try to move away from him, you didn't want the touch. You start to feel uncomfortable. You turn and hand him your drink.

"I should go." You state.

"No, finish your drink." He states as he doesn't move from you.

"No, I should go back to my room." You state honestly.

"I insist... finish your drink." He states.

Feeling dizzy you look at him and rub your face. You clench your jaw and shake your head. You set your drink on a nearby table and try to walk away but he grabs you and pulls you back.

"You're not going anywhere." He states firmly.

"Ye-yesIam." You state with a stumble.

He was starting to get irritated with you, he firmly grabs your arm and yanks you back. You growl and spit at him. "Let me the fuck go."

"You're not fucking going anywhere." He states wiping the spit from his face.

You begin to shove him but he shoves you against the glass window, instead of letting you fall he grips your arm and looks over your face before he snarls.

"You're staying right here." He growls.

Letting out a slight whimper you bring your hand to your head and attempt to slap at him to shove, stomp on his foot anything you can do to get away. He grabs you and he drags you to the bed and tosses you on it. You start to panic, but you are having a hard time pulling yourself together. You start to kick as you feel him climbing toward you. You have no idea what happened between the drink and now for him to do this. What did you say? What did you do? You are hitting pure panic mode.

"FUCK YOU!" You scream as you get off the bed and are beginning to crawl away.

Licking his lips he looks down at you, rolling up his sleeves of his denim shirt after tossing his jacket to the side he walks to you and pulls your leg toward him, and flips you over. You attempt to escape again but he takes his boot and presses it against the side of your face forcing your face against the side of the floor. You attempt to fight and call for help, but there wasn't anyone coming to get you, they all knew better than to walk into this room without his direction.

"LET ME GO!" You fight but it was getting more and more difficult to keep yourself awake.

"I'm not letting you go." He stated as he kept his foot against your head.

"Why are you doing this? What did I do?" You ask.

"You're chosen... you can handle this. Stop fighting." He notes your breathing as it started to slow.

Waking up you feel groggy, sore, and chained to a fucking bed?! You move your hands over yourself and find yourself completely nude, feeling between your legs you feel where he's used you. You snarl and you go to stand up and move but you are quickly brought back to the bed. Reaching up you find that you're collared and chained to the bed like some sort of animal.

"What the fuck?!" You yell.

He walks around the corner and smirks. "Oh, you're awake. Good."

"What the fuck!" You snap. "Did you..." You reach between your legs. "Was this you?!" You snap.

He chuckles. "Oh yeah, and you screamed and moaned like you were absolutely enjoying it more than the last time you were fucked." He chuckled again.

"How dare you?! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" You slap him across the face.

With a snarl, your face meets the back of his hand. "I fucking own you that's who the fuck I think I am. You enjoyed it. You were begging for more, and I gave you more. You should thank me." He stated.

"Why am I here? Who are you?! Why were you in my dreams?!" You snap.

"You're here because you wanted to be here, you came here on your own, just like how you climbed into my bed on your own. I have it all on video." He states as he pulls out a remote and turns on the TV and rewinds to last night.

Sitting there you watch as you climb into the bed, and start taking off all your clothing, groping yourself, and playing with yourself. You watch him strip down, and begin to have his way with you. You watch as he calls for someone else. You then watch yourself begin to fight. It's clear you're begging, but you're begging for him to stop as the other man comes in and strips down, and both of them are having their way with you. You watch as you fight but they are both restraining you, taking turns filling you.

You're angry, feeling like you're going to be sick. You look at him. "What the actual fuck? Do you think I was begging you to do that? It looked like I was begging you to stop." You state with a small growl.

"Begging is begging." He stated. "And baby, you were begging." He stated with a chuckle and an emphasis on the begging aspect.

Disgusted, you tremble in utter disgust. Clenching your jaw you walk over and throw your fist against his face with all your might before you start slapping him and kicking him. You were angry, furious, feeling used and abused and violated. Rightfully so. You were quickly brought to a halt when he grips your throat, slams you into the floor, and kneels down on top of you straddling your body. You go to try and punch again.

"Hit me again, and I will fucking kill you." He snarled and grabbed his knife from under the bed.

"Then fuckin kill me. I'm far better off dead at this point." You hiss after spitting in his face again.

Taking the blade he stabs it into your side, missing all vital organs and arteries, his goal wasn't to kill you, but to scare you. He snarls. You snarl back and for what? What were you going to do? You couldn't do anything but you start to scream feeling the rush going away, and a foreign object stabbing into you, your eyes go wide and let out another scream before he rips it from you. With your hand, you reach to your wound and feel the blood pouring out of it. You slap it across his face, snarling he jerks you and slams you into the floor again, feeling light-headed from being slammed into the floor you try and find your bearings.

He takes his own hand and brings it to the blood and smears it on your body, the bright red against the contrast of your skin was something he enjoyed very much, it excited him, moving to settle himself between your legs you begin to try and fight him, still woozy, he takes the blood from your side and slides it up your legs, coating your inner things in it before he strips down and looks down at you. Licking his lips he wastes no time shoving his already-stiffened cock into you. You let out a scream and begin to kick and thrash yourself to get away from him but it's not working.

You begin to cry, screaming, pleading for him to stop.

"I don't think so. Take it, enjoy it. You're going to carry my child. The last bitch killed my child, but you'll make a fine incubation chamber for my spawn." He snarled.

You didn't want that, you didn't need that.

"NO! NO! NO! STOP!" You begin to sob. "Please stop."

It's like you lost all your strength, it's like it was drained from you as he thrusts into your wet center with no cares.

Thrust after thrust, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed into the room, the stickiness of the blood keeping your legs against him. You just lay there, whimpers of crying, whimpers of being thrust into, but not whimpers of enjoyment, not whimpers of love or desire, but whimpers nonetheless. Your eyes cast to the side as your head turns to face the bottom of the window. You tried to find your happy place as he uses your body you can't find the fight in you anymore, you feel like all you've done is fight. You feel this anger bubbling inside you as you hear him growl and snarl.

He grips you and lifts your hips a bit to get a deeper penetration to deposit his seed... again. Your jaw clenches. Incubator. It's the only word that echoes in your mind.

Standing in the bathroom, bruised, stitched up, poorly mind you. You look over yourself in the mirror, your eyes red and swollen from crying. Your lips cracked and bloodied. You break down in tears, feeling every ounce of pain in your body from the past two days. You had been used, fighting him off, running your hand over your tummy you shake your head.

It all seemed to happen so fast, and you have so much regret in you, you hate all you've done, you hate everything you've done to yourself and those you've hurt. You suddenly feel like you need a priest and a confessional. You sob harder in the bathroom, the only time you have alone and to yourself. You shake your head and looked down at yourself.

"He's not going to be allowed to keep you..." You clench your jaw.

Suddenly there became a bang at the door.

"Do you like living?" He asks.

"Not with you I don't." You snap.

"You should be so lucky I chose you. Women would kill to be in your shoes." He stated.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark content #dddne #dd/dne #randall flagg x reader #randall flagg smut #randall flagg x you #randall flagg fanfiction #randall flagg fic #randall flagg #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard gif #alexander skarsgård gifs #alexander skarsgard fic #dark fic #dark!fic #voxmortuus

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