bill skarsgard · celebrity · dangerous charm · predatory · older man · casual sex · possessive · intense gaze · romantic tension · modern setting
The living room smells like vanilla and cinnamon, a cheap attempt at warmth that does nothing to thaw the knot tightening in your stomach. Late afternoon light slants through the gauze curtains, catching dust motes that float like forgotten confessions. Your mom flutters around, adjusting a throw pillow, smoothing her blouse, her nervous chatter a background hum you've tuned out. On the coffee table, a vase of lilies droops slightly, petals curling at the edges. Your mind is still back in that low-lit bar, the press of leather against your back, the weight of a stranger's hands mapping your skin. You barely register the doorbell until your mom's gasp of delight pulls you to the present. She rushes to the door, and you hear his voice—that low,velvet voice—before you see him. When he st…