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kisakis-boyfriend · 13 days ago

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Scaramouche and Kinich (separately) refusing to wear a sexy Halloween costume so you don’t let them cum until they put it on 🤫🎃

Pairings: Scaramouche, Kinich x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, switch/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, teasing, denial, edging, implied crossdressing, maid outfit + blowjob (Kinich), daddy kink + power struggle (Scara), small dick Scara

“No. Not happening.” he spat. His expression remained stern and his conviction steadfast.

This was not going to dissuade you, however. You were determined to see your sweet boyfriend in the sexy costume you (oh so lovingly) picked out (just for him).

“Why not? Where's your Halloween spirit?!” if looks could kill, then you would be shot dead where you stand as your partner glares through your very being. Guess you'll have to play dirty if you want this to happen…

Placing your hands on the bed—caging Scaramouche in—you lean in for another kiss. He's reluctant to accept, afraid you may have some trick up your sleeve. Still, he allows you to slip your tongue past his tender lips, and he's so quick to melt into the kiss it's almost pitiful.

Your knee presses between his legs, putting pressure on his little cock, and Scaramouche instantly humps your thigh. His body reacts in the cutest ways; arching his back off of the bed, twitching his hips as he grinds his clothed dick on your leg, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt the longer this goes on.

In need of air, you pull away. “Why do you always taste so damn good? You're addicting, you know that?” Scara lets out a single proud laugh, soaking up your praise like a sponge.

“I wanna make you feel good, babe. Want to–” Scara hums as your lips brush against his throat, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “–make you see stars.”

Scaramouche chuckles, hanging onto every word that falls from your deceptive lips. He bucks into your touch when you cup a hand over his cock, rubbing the rough fabric of his pants against the sensitive gland. “Won't you let me? My one and only?”

All the anemo user can think about is your touch and honeyed words—completely ignoring the warning signals from his brain as you drown them in sweet poison. Whatever, what's important is having his hands on me and his dick where I want it.

With a sly smile, your darling spreads his legs, inviting you to pamper him like you promised.

You slide your hand into his shorts eagerly, pleasuring him exactly how he likes it — doing all of the moves that drive him wild. Within minutes, Scara's cock is engorged and weeping with precum. His thighs tense and tremble, all while you keep him on the cusp of an orgasm without actually giving it to him.

His sharp voice cuts through the air as he demands; “That's enough! I know you're just–” the moan that escapes as you focus in on his tip catches Scaramouche off guard. “shit… you're j-just teasing me! I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good?”

“And this doesn't feel good?” you retort, sending a smartass look right back at him.

A groan rumbles through his small chest. “It does, but you know what you're doing, y/n. Get to the real stuff — either put that mouth to good use, or stick it in already.”

Ouch. If you didn't have a master plan in motion, you might've done just that, just to shut him up. But you're not giving him what he needs until you get what you want.

“Hmm… no~” his eye twitches at that. You've stopped moving your hand completely, simply holding his little cock while you smirk down at him. When he attempts to move his hips himself, and thrust into your hand, you hold his hips down, darkening your expression as a warning.

“I could allow you to cum… but you have to do something for me. Are you feeling agreeable tonight, my love?”

Scaramouche scoffs when you say that affectionate term with such disrespect. A part of him knows what you're going to say next — and he ushers you to go on.

“I picked out a little somethin' somethin' for you yesterday. If you wear it for me, I'll give you everything you want for the rest of the night~”

He fucking hates how easily you tempt him into going along with your ridiculous schemes… but he can't ignore his raging hard-on and your relentless edging either. He knows damn well that, if he doesn't agree, you will edge his brain out through his cock. You will prevent him from cumming—and the only thing on his mind will become you, and only you.

The tension remains for a moment — Scaramouche swallows thickly, then growls. “Fine. Lemme see what you bought for me.”

With an excited squeal you dash over to the closet, rummaging around until you find the item in question. You grasp the clothing tightly and return to Scaramouche's side, holding it out for him to take. He examines it for a minute, unfolding the cloth until he can tell what it is–

His lavender eyes blow wide open, and he scoffs “Are you insane? Do you actually expect me to put this on?”

“No. But if you want to cum…” There is no string of curses strong enough to convey your lover's frustration with you right now. Putting this outfit on would be humiliating, embarrassing, and destroy whatever integrity the puppet has left.

Scaramouche stares at the costume, fidgeting with it between his fingers. His head is hung low as a thousand thoughts swim through his brain. It's just for a little bit. You'll put it on, try to ignore it, and let him fuck you. He said he would do whatever you say, so as long as there are no tricks to this, you're the real winner here, right?

Fuck… it's so– so lewd. Do humans really find this kind of thing attractive? Besides, it looks like it's meant for a girl… Agh, but I'm already hard and if I refuse, he's just going to torture me all night. Just… just put it on. Once it's on I hold all of the power and he'll have to obey me. He promised.

“Don't stare while I undress… pervert.”

Trying to contain the absolutely diabolical grin on your face is useless. And you can't tear your gaze away as Scaramouche removes his remaining clothing. You do at least try to keep your eyes moving, but it's so hard when he slips his shorts down and his perfectly round butt is right there, facing you! His entire body is just a few feet away—with no barriers to get in your way. His skin is smooth—practically flawless—except for his back; which is littered with circular scars from a past he technically never experienced. Yet, when he regained the memories of that past, the markings etched themselves back into his being. Thinking back to the cause of those scars, you find your thoughts drifting some place (and some time) far, far away…

“You just couldn't help yourself, huh? Hellooo? Teyvat to y/n—wake up.”

You blink rapidly, shaking your head to get those lingering thoughts out. “Uh y-yeah. Mm, you look even better than I thought you would, love. The panties were a nice addition, don't you think?” your confident attitude returns as you take in the sight of Scaramouche in the skimpy get up.

“Shut it… I can't believe I'm doing this…” the puppet whines, though his dick still stands at full attention while he complains.

His slim waist tempts you, and you can't stop yourself from grabbing it and pulling him closer. Scaramouche glares up at you, but he finds himself leaning in as your body heat seeps into his person. The tender moment is ruined when you lift his body and toss him onto the bed in one quick motion.

“Oof! Tch, in a hurry now, are we?”

“Maybe a little bit~” Perhaps it's the lack of clothing that's causing him to feel extra vulnerable, but Scaramouche finds himself squirming under your piercing gaze quickly. Your eyes burn right through him — eyeing him as if he's nothing but a piece of meat for you to tear into and devour. He doesn't entirely notice how his thighs press together to hide his most vulnerable area, not until you slide a hand between them and spread his legs wide open, that is.

“MmmMMmM… o-ok, I did my part, now you have to– aah~ Stop it–” the puppet whines as you rub your hand over his tiny cock, jumbling his thoughts. Precum has already left a stain where the tip is, and it flows through more of the thin fabric as you stroke the underside of his dick with your fingers. “you have to hold up your end of the bargain, right? mmMPH–!”

“I suppose I do. Then, tell me what you want me to do next~” your reply in a silky smooth tone. Within seconds Scaramouche is guiding your hands underneath those cheap panties, letting out an adorable gasp when your fingernails graze his sensitive cock.

“Stroke it, and don't stop unless I tell you to.” With a sultry yet mocking 'yes sir', you continue your earlier motions. Using your extensive knowledge of your partner's sexual preferences, it's only a matter of minutes before you get him wet and needy. Scaramouche has wrapped his arms around your neck, keeping the two of you tethered while his dick leaks all over his tummy. The skimpy costume is long since tainted with the scent of sex and sweat — and he hasn't even cum yet!

The puppet lets out a desperate whine, panting your next order with urgency; “Here! In here!” he guides your hand down to his wet hole, coated in his own juices that have been dribbling down his ass the whole time. You sink in up to the first knuckle and Scaramouche chokes on his moan — your other hand has remained wrapped around his little cock, just as he demanded, bringing an endless flow of pleasure to his hazy brain.

“AhHN– deeper! F-finger me more! aaAHH–!!” his body jerks as you insert your entire index finger into his ass. Scaramouche grits his teeth, humping his cock against your palm while you work his hole open.

When he feels ready enough, he tells you to stop, pulling off the soiled panties himself and demanding for you to take out your dick and fuck him with him.

“yyeEESS-! mmph~” Scaramouche groans as you slide your thick shaft inside. “Bury it deeper—deeper! mHM-MM like that~” His walls clamp down on your dick, preventing you from leaving his hot insides even if you wanted to (and you don't~ 💖). Watching your lover unravel beneath you in that slutty get-up keeps your cock rock solid as it rams his cute little hole—splitting him in two with every thrust.

Grabbing his waist a little too tightly, you control Scara's movement, preventing your dick from going more than halfway in—which earns a growl from the puppet. “–the hell are you doing? I didn't say slow down.”

“Do you want to cum?” What kind of a question is that? Of course he does! Scaramouche can feel his balls tighten as you fuck him, preparing a load bigger than you would expect someone of his size to be able to produce. His hole aches to be filled again — ready to receive your own load all in his guts.

“Yes! K-keep— hnmgh don't stop pleeease!”

Frustrated, Scaramouche claws into your forearms, while you simply hold him still and smirk down at his bratty form. “Well, you did ask nicely.” you laugh, thrusting back inside so far that you can feel your cock hit the off switch on his brain. “Gonna give me a nice big cumshot, right? All over that pretty tummy of yours?” The only response the puppet can muster is a vigorous nod and a whimper.

“Yeah? Good, good. Fuck… cum for daddy, Scara. Give daddy that fuckin' load, huh?”

Like a magic word, that was all it took to push Scaramouche over the edge — bringing him to a shuddering climax as he shouts “Yes yes yes! Please, daddy, gonna c-cumMM—!! 💙” His voice falters as he cums — shooting the warm substance onto his own pelvis while his eyes cross. That pornographic expression Scaramouche wears causes you to cum soon after, filling his tiny body with your warmth.

Though he doesn't physically have a heart, you still swear that you can hear the rapid beating in his chest as Scaramouche settles down, regaining his senses while you gently stroke his cheek.

Your body gives out, collapsing on his chest as you both pass out for an indiscernible amount of time. “Hey, pretty boy, how ya feeling?” you ask with a groggy voice, brushing a bit of hair away from his eyes.

Stretching his arms out, Scara replies “Sore, tired… but it felt nice too, I guess.” he turns his face away from you as he adds that last part, finding it embarrassing to admit such a thing. You chuckle at his sudden shyness and lean your head down to place a kiss on his cheek, then his nose when he turns his head back to glare at you weakly.

Before you get up to clean yourselves off, you keep Scaramouche pinned, not yet ready to let go as you assault his face, neck, chest, and hands with kisses.

“Oh, but… but, my love, you would look so pretty in the clothing I chose for you.” you feign disappointment, frowning as you fake a sniffle. Kinich crosses his arms and stares at you, clearly not falling for the act.

With a huff, you drop the false sadness and straighten your stance. “Alright, Mr. No Fun, can we still have sex though?”

Only someone who understands the saurian hunter intimately would notice the spark of emotion in those gorgeous eyes—and the slight twitch of his lip before he answers you — “Yes, just stop pouting.”

You sigh in relief, closing the distance between you and your lover and cupping his cheeks as you breath “Thank you…” Kinich uncrosses his arms, placing a gloved hand on your cheek and leaning closer. The kisses start off chaste and gentle, but as you taste more and more of your lover on your lips, you feel the addiction creeping in. Gradually, the kisses become longer—deeper. Kinich allows your tongue to slip past his lips with zero resistance, and he lets a single moan out as you pull him closer.

“I jus'… needed you today.” you slur between hot kisses. “Haah… gods, I really fuckin' need you, Kinich. Lemme know if this is too much, please–” With a soft thud, Kinich falls onto your mattress. His hands snake around your body as it presses against his—pinning him down while you desperately trail kisses down his neck.

The saurian hunter makes no effort to resist, even tugging at the waist of your pants; just as impatient as you are. “No, it's… it's fine. Mm, this is nice.”

Suddenly, his clothes are too tight, and everything feels way too hot as his loving partner assaults him with affection. Groping at Kinich's chest proves to be the secret at making him melt even faster; his nipples harden under the tight fabric, making it that much easier to play with them and make your sweetheart arch his back.

Something catches his attention — pointing his gaze down a little, Kinich notices how hard you've become just from a bit of making out. Your pants struggle to contain your excitement, and your lover finds it hard to contain his own now. You notice Kinich staring, and his cheeks heat up at the humiliation of getting caught. “See something you like?” you tease.

His reply is snarky, but the look in his eyes betrays that tone. “You wish.” After that sass, you decide to tease your darling a bit.

Taking your index finger and dragging it down his chest, flicking over one of his nipples in the process, until you reach that big jacket tied around his waist. Your hand dips underneath, reaching further down until… “Ooh, so wet already? Your body can't lie, you know.”

At this, Kinich rolls his eyes, which devolves into his eyes rolling back as you rub your thumb around his slit. His cock twitches in your hand, dribbling precum down his skin. Your tone drops to something more sultry and intimidating as you question Kinich; “You do like what you see. You want to feel relief—to cum and relieve all of that pent up tension—am I right?”

He can only nod his head reluctantly, succumbing to your devious scheme without entirely realizing it. You stroke his cock once and the sickening slick noise that it makes causes Kinich to squirm under your know-it-all gaze. You pretend to think for a second, then offer, “You know, I have a solution that I think we'll both love~”

“I'm not wearing that stupid—”

“JUST hear me out;” you interject, “if you wear that pretty costume for me, I will do whatever you want, you need only give me the order. Sounds like a fair price, doesn't it?”

The gears turn in Kinich's head for a moment, before he lets out a sigh of defeat. “You'll do anything I want?”

“Anything. Your wish is my command.” you reassure.

“This must be some costume if you're willing to give me control just like that.” a faint smirk makes itself onto the saurian hunter's features.

You laugh as the image of the costume comes to mind. “See for yourself — I left it in the drawer over there, in case you changed your mind~”

—

Five minutes later, your beloved emerges from the corner of the room where he went to change into this silly thing. “This is what you're into? Really?”

You take that as your cue to turn around. Immediately, your eyes light up at the glorious view before you: Kinich—in all of his perfection—wearing a blasphemous version of a maid uniform. It's mostly white frills that leave nothing to the imagination, white sheer thigh highs, and a frilly headband. The costume does a wonderful job showing off all of your darling's best assets; like his arm muscles, thighs, and his ass that isn't covered at all at the back of the dress.

Kinich rolls his eyes again as he takes a seat at the end of the bed. Now that he's sitting, his cock pokes up under the tiny skirt, attracting your lustful eye with ease. This does not go unnoticed. “See something you like?” he mocks.

You can only bite your lip as you nod, still staring directly at his boner as it creates a glaring shape, and a darkening spot where his cock is leaking through the frills. Kinich motions for you to come closer, leaving you to stand there in front of him while his confidence rises through the roof at your display of compliance. “Kneel.” you drop to your knees instantly, nearly drooling at the thought of what's to come next.

“Say 'aaah'.” you open your mouth obediently, and watch as Kinich flips the skirt up, revealing his twitching dick. He guides it into your wet mouth, petting your hair while you wrap your lips around his tip and begin to suck. You hum happily around his cock, adjusting to his size as the minutes pass.

Kinich notices you fidgeting restlessly, and offers “You wanna put your hands on me?” you nod and whine around his cock. “Go ahead.” he allows, placing your hands on his thighs so that you can mindlessly rub and squeeze them while you suck him off. Kinich holds the back of your head, and you let your mouth hang open so he can fuck your throat freely. You can't help gagging as he pleasures himself with your mouth, but it's not a bad feeling. You're just happy that you can have someone so amazing in this way.

Even with something filling your mouth, you're still hungry for more. You've let Kinich control the pace until now—until you wrap your arms around the backs of his thighs and hold him still while you suck him silly.

The saurian hunter can't hold in the shameless moan that comes out as he tips his head back, filling up your mouth with his load. “mmMhM! Y-yes-!” Kinich reaches behind him, grabbing the sheets in his fist as he rides out his orgasm by humping your face—all while you leave handprints on his thighs from how hard you've been holding them.

His cock pops out of your mouth, still connected by a string of cum, and you pant as air fills your lungs again. Kinich's vision is blurry, but he can faintly make out your half-lidded eyes as you look up at him, sticking out your tongue to show that you swallowed it all.

“Damn, that was pretty intense. I guess I should wear this more often if it means being rewarded like that.” he smiles, leaning back on one hand and using the other to pet your hair.

“Yeah, you should.” you reply, pushing his chest so that he falls backwards as you stand up. Now you tower over your shaky lover, scanning over his body and savoring every curve and muscle as you do.

Kinich winces when you pull him flush against you by his thighs. “What…?”

“Did you really think I would be satisfied with just that? Please, Kinich, that was only the beginning.” you tease, “There's so much more I want to do to you while you're still wearing this~”

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bunnys-kisses · 2 months ago

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team principal

max verstappen - team principal au

cw: smut/pwp, driver!reader, team principal!max, age gap (20/45), power dynamic, (slight) bratty behavior, groping, driver's room sex, oral sex (max receives)

as requested by anon: Driver!reader asking team principal max verstappen for a custom line of all pink and feminine merch because the orange just “washes her out” so he does. And he goes ALL out, bright pink Verstappen Racing flare leggings, and baby tee’s with the MV logo plastered on the chest bc what she wants she gets.

like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own! <3

being part of verstappen racing meant wearing their logo. it had been the logo that max verstappen himself raced with. the 'm' and the 'v' were known prior to the establishment of the f1 team. every team had their logo from ferrari's stallion to red bull's, well, bulls. even teams like hamilton motorsports had their logo.

the problem with max verstappen's merch wasn't the logo, it was how god awful ugly it was. you had a selection of some of the ugliest merch on the planet. why was it all orange?

you had been convinced that your team principal, your boss, only saw the world through orange hues. that was everything was a shade of orange so awful that it would make mclaren blush!

"this is ugly. this is ugly. this is somehow worse! this looks like a halloween collection rather than actual merch. mister verstappen you make more money than anyone i know, hire someone with design sense!" you shook the shirts in your hand.

you knew that almost every driver on the grid couldn't talk to their boss like that. but it was an poorly kept secret that max verstappen had a soft spot for you. he also fucked you two ways to sunday on a weekly, if not daily basis.

max chuckled and leaned back a little in his office chair, "brand integrity is important, schat. a recognizable brand is important to its value."

you made a face, "well, your brand looks like spirit halloween threw up all over the place." then put the items down forcefully. you put your hands on your hips, "and shouldn't brands take risks? try something new? all of you use the same colours, cuts and styles. it's boring!"

max asked, "then what do you have in mind? since you know so much about a brand. i've been doing this since i was seventeen. almost thirty years, schat. longer than you've known how to walk let alone drive." he raised his eyebrows, "since you know so much, dazzle me with your proposal."

max would let his precious driver bark like a yapping dog. but he knew how to keep you quiet. he watched you cower for a moment, realizing that you took it a step too far. max smiled with his face rested against his fist.

you swallowed, "maybe something a little more... feminine.. pink. something cute." you leaned forward at his desk a little, the shirt you wore was his and was a little big on you. your movements revealed the start of a hickey he left on your shoulder the night prior, "mister verstappen, you have the first female driver in a long time. we... could lean into that a little. make it cute!"

max leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his desk, "cute? verstappen racing is supposed to imposing. strength on the track, and you want pink." he chuckled a little, "the alternate logo besides the initials is a lion. lions aren't cute."

you looked at him, "what about that lion stuffed animal you got me? that's cute. i sleep with it every night." you then pouted a little, a look that always made max weak. you shrugged your shoulders a little as you had your hands behind your back. you swayed a little and suggested, "plus, i could model it as well."

max may have known how to shut you up, but you knew how to make the older man weak in the knees. he sighed and kept his gaze on you, his expression a little softer, "fine. we'll see what we can do, schat. maybe you're right about needing to do something a little different. but i hope you know, whatever item we end up with. you have to show off for me."

your pout dropped and was replaced with a smile. you leaned over the desk to be closer to him and kissed him on the mouth. you held his face and smiled against the kiss. when you eventually pulled away, max watched your turn around to skip out of his office. you said to him as you looked over your shoulder, "thank you, mister verstappen."

max verstappen had seen enough in his over forty years on this planet. he had seen many beautiful women over the years, but when he walked into your driver's room and saw you in the newest verstappen merch, he almost fell on his ass. he had seen the line of merch before it got into your hands, but to see you in them was another story.

you were in a pink skirt from home that was almost the exact colour of the baby pink of the baby tee that you were wearing. laid out on the couch of the room was the rest of the merch. the flare leggings, the bucket hat, the baseball cap, a form fitting tank top and even an oversized button up.

all in sickening baby pink.

so much for verstappen being predators on the track. not when you were sickeningly beautiful in the clothing. max held onto the door to the room for a moment to compose himself before he stepped in and shut the door loudly behind him.

"oh!" you perked up as you turned away from the mirror to look at your boss. you smiled at him, "hello, sir." seeing the logo of the team across your tits made his eyes go wide.

"hi." he said as he swallowed, "did they give you the wrong size?" he stepped forward and reached out for you, "and where did you get this skirt?"

you smiled, "oh! this is supposed to be my right size. that's just how the tee are!" he could see your curves and a bit of your stomach. you then added, "and the skirt is from home. i bought it for a matching outfit thing." you swayed your hips from side to side.

this was supposed to be your outfit for media day. something to show off the brand. max scratched the back of his neck and stepped forward. he placed his hands on your hips and gazed at you.

"you're not going out like this. no, no. there has to be something else to wear." he approved all of the items. he saw them from concept to final product. and now you were in the driver's room looking like a whore.

"what about it?" you pouted.

he pulled at the bottom of your shirt and you yelped as it was taken over your head. he made a small disappointed noise as he tossed the shirt to the side. he licked his lips at the sight of your breasts. this was beyond any code violation. if you two got caught. but it was better than you walking around the media section in that shirt.

"you look like you're selling sex rather than the brand! you look like a whore." he said as he held onto your hips. he could feel the leap in his chest at the sight of your breasts on full display for him. only for him.

"doesn't sex sell, mister verstappen?" you said as you pouted a little and you were pulled up against him. your hands on the front of his button up, with his logo on it. you spread your hand across his chest, he noticed that your nails were painted the same pretty pink as the merch. you held onto him as he took you by the ass to press up against him.

"not this kind of sex. this is an invitation for you to cause problems. what if that skirt flips up? what if your nipples poke through the shirt. what is the press got the wrong idea and thought you were a slut." he explained. he spoke like you were a bratty girl who needed to be scolded. to be taught the right way.

you pouted further, "i'm not a slut."

max pushed up your pink tennis skirt over your ass and grabbed handfuls of your ass. it made you yelp and max closed in the space between your lips. before he kissed he said, "i know you're not. but, when you dress like this, you look like one." then kissed you deeply.

his strong hands groped your ass as you felt his cock up against your middle. you shuddered at the feeling of it. you knew that max was quite big. you squirmed a little against him and kissed him deeper.

when he pulled away, he got you down on the couch roughly. you bounced a little and looked up at him. you stuck your chest out a little more and max looked down at you as he rubbed his cock through his slacks. for one of the top racers in the world, you sure looked beautiful below him.

"mister verstappen." you said before you were met with his cock in your face. you didn't say much else but rather wrapped your lips around his cock and let him hold the back of your head. you placed your hands on his strong thighs for support as you took his cock as deep as you could take it.

max shuddered at the feeling of you. you felt like a dream in his grasp. a beauty beyond all others. despite the age gap and the power dynamics, max knew that he could make you top of the grid. you'd be winning championships that would make other drivers jealous.

as you sucked his cock, max saw your future. world champion of formula one. pretty trophies in your apartment in monaco. he already had you in a multi-year contract and no clause to get out of it. first wear the verstappen racing logo then have the verstappen last name. only fitting for a champion after all.

a strong driver needs a strong last name. and as you looked up at him with that soft gaze of yours he panted a little heavier. all dolled up for him, in his merch. you were right about the need for cuter clothes, that orange washed you out. you looked cuter in the soft pinks.

"you look good like this." he said as he tapped your nose and you made a playful noise. too precious, too beautiful for him. he loved the sight of you seated with his cock in your mouth.

you continued to suck him off and max got both hands in your hair. he pressed you up against him a little tighter and let your throat clench around his cock. he remembered the first time you sputtered and coughed when he came in your mouth. but now you took it all like the champion he knew you were.

"you're going to do so well for the press." he said, "answer all their questions. be a good girl. you know you will be. just like you are now, taking me so beautifully." he patted your cheek lovingly before he pulled you further onto his cock once more.

he watched you shudder against him as you tried to take his entire length. you could almost feel his pubic hair against your nose as you whined against him. you whined a little bit from the back of your throat and continued to suck him off. you brought him pleasure that made the team principal see stars.

he cupped your face in those large hands for a moment, "you like that don't you? having me in your throat, you're so beautiful. i don't know if anyone told you about the bidding war to get you on my team." your eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled deeply, "had to play dirty."

you whimpered in response. you didn't know about the bidding war for you a year earlier. you knew that you had a few offers when you ended up in formula one.

those blue eyes looked down at you and max licked his lips. you could feel his gaze on you as he continued to rock up into your throat. he panted a little, he could feel his shirt cling to his toned back from the sweat. "not easy to get under hamilton's skin. but i got him to back off, the same with red bull. i only wanted the best and i got it. now she's sucking my cock and wearing my logo."

you whined a little bit and it was music to max's ears. you were his prize. your teammate was good too, but max didn't hear church bells when he was around. you were max's pet project, that he just simply happened to fuck often.

he'd make you a champion. team principals played favourites all the time, and max in a way was no better than them. at least max got something else out of it. those pretty soft lips around his cock. he held onto you tightly as he continued to thrust into your mouth.

you clung to him as you could feel the ache in your throat. you kept your eyes closed and you were wet between the thighs. max briefly got more aggressive with his thrusts before he finished in your mouth. you whimpered and swallowed it eagerly.

the salty taste in your mouth was familiar and you opened your eyes to look at your boss. when you pulled your mouth off of his cock. you kissed the tip and smiled at him a little.

if max had more time, he'd be making a full mess of you. but the press would want to see the star of the track soon enough. he rubbed his cock up against your lips and nose before he said, "i want you to wear the merch next time i fuck you. you're mine, got it?"

you nodded softly and said, "yes, mister verstappen. always."

when you did the interview, you still wore the outfit. despite protests from your boss. you were all smiles for the camera, but max lingered close by. just in case someone got the wrong idea. as if max's name and logo weren't plastered across your pretty tits. but, it did get the older man thinking as he watched from a short distance.

max's mind wandered to other ways to have you wear his logo. he wondered if collars and chokers were still popular with young women. he wondered if he could get you in something with a tag with his name on it. maybe it wouldn't be sold as merch for the public, but he wouldn't mind if his star driver wore it. <3

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bbokicidal · 27 days ago

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Masked Pleasures | OT8 [+ Halloween Surprise!] [SKZ]

Notes : My little apology for discontinuing the Kinktober series for this month. I hope you enjoy !!

Warnings : MDNI (18+ Content), mask kink, double penetration. That's all I can really think of right now.

Pairings : OT8 x Reader (Individually), Jeongin/Chan x Reader, Seungmin/Minho x Reader, Jisung/Felix x Reader, Changbin/Hyunjin x Reader

Chris:

"This is what you choose for us to do? I let you pick the theme for one night and you put a mask over my face?" He chuckles as he enters the bedroom, crossing his arms and tipping his head to one side.

"Baby, it's just for a little role-play fun. We-" You choke, eyes wide where you sit on the soft sheets; lingerie adorning your body that he'd bought for you over the span of his last tour. You'd asked him to put just the Ghostface mask on, which left him in a black t-shirt (that hugged him a little too nicely) and a pair of loose grey sweats. "Good.. lord."

His brow cocks under the black mesh as he moves closer, stalking towards you in a way that makes you shrink back on the bed - and you can't see it, but he smirks at your visible reaction to just his presence. "Close; But it's just Chris - 'n remember it, too. Cause it's all I better hear coming from your mouth for the rest of the night."

Minho:

"Y'know, this really gives me the opportunity to punish you for being a brat." His voice is airy, full of gasping breaths that escape thin lips every time he pushes into your slick walls swallowing him whole.

You're whining, back arched away from where his chest threatens to brush against it above you. The grip he has on your hair is the only reason your face wasn't buried in the pillows. "You can - punish me any time you want, Min," You choke on your words, spit lulling against your lips and threatening to drip to the sheets.

And he huffs, the sound heavier behind the mask. With his free hand, he grips the black fabric and pulls it off, your eyes rolling back to get a glimpse of his tussled hair and dark eyes. "I know," he smiles, leaning down closer to your ear. "But it's more fun this way."

Changbin:

"Get back here."

Scenario in full swing, your boyfriend stalked towards the bed he'd just dropped you on after previously throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you towards the bedroom. You'd turned onto your stomach, crawling away from where he stood in the doorway before he began to make his way forward as well. Your weak escape attempt made him smile under the mask, a gloved hand slapping down around your ankle and gripping tight.

Your gasp makes him giggle as he pulls you back, dragging your form so easily across the sheets until they bunched under your body as he turned you back to face him. You can hear him still giggling, broad form moving down to pin you to the bed. The mask bumps your face briefly before he pulls back to remove it, smile bright and a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry." He peeps, a bashful tone washing over the previously sultry moment. "Just wanted to kiss you."

Hyunjin:

The mask already discarded after he'd found it too hard to breath behind the heavy fabric, Hyunjin's wavy hair was a mess around his face and neck currently dripping with sweat.

Dark eyes bore down into your own, bottom lip trapped between his teeth and swollen with blood. Long fingers curled tight to the backs of your knees, keeping them pinned against your chest as he rut his hips so hard into your own that you were sure you were bruised between the thighs.

"Fuck -- yes," You cried, barely able to keep your eyes on him above you. Fuck the mask - just the sight of him in the long draping fabric of the costume was enough to prove your point; He looked good in anything. Even if it was just something from Spirit Halloween.

Jisung:

"Baby?" You cooed from your spot in the kitchen, standing over the sink and turning off the water as you finished up with the dishes. When you get no reply in return, you blink to yourself and slowly turn to look into the empty kitchen behind you. "... Baby?"

Taking a few steps further from the counter, you turn your head to peer down the long hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathrooms; Jisung stands at the end, dressed head to toe in the costume you'd asked him so nicely to fuck you in only weeks ago. Your breathing hitches at the sight. You'd talked about it - jokingly to hide how badly you wanted it - that maybe he could play out a scenario like something from the movie. Without the gruesome ending, of course.

"... Very funny, Ji." You smile, turning to grab your phone from the counter and walk to the living room; But as you pass the hallway once more, he's disappeared.

Your blood runs cold, goosebumps chasing the hairs of your arms. "... Ji?" You call, eyes widened with alarm. You glance over the hallway one last time, slowly turning away and deciding to just head for the living room like planned. And as you turn, you're met with the warmth of his body directly against yours, bumping into him from where he stood behind you. You jostle, stiff, and his hand flies to balance you by gripping at your throat.

You stare up into the dark eyeholes of the mask, unable to see a trace of his face beneath the mesh.

"You are... too good at this, Ji."

Felix:

"Look at me."

"I -- can't."

Felix grunts in mock frustration from behind, ringed fingers curling into your hair. He wastes no time in pulling you to him; watching your back arch from the way he forces you to look back at him. He finds that pulling on your hair isn't enough - so he snakes his free hand around, the glove he wears caressing the skin of your throat and jaw as he grips you there instead to keep you steady while he fucks you from behind.

"Yes, you can. And you will."

Your eyes drag over the mask, hands fumbling in the sheets to push yourself up so you don't have to crane your neck at such an angle. You reach - messy and uncalculated - for your boyfriend, grabbing the mask and pulling until it rips off of his head and his beautiful brown eyes are dragging over your face. Wasn't it what you wanted? The mask, the outfit?

He cocks a brow, a smirk crossing defined lips at the realization that you preferred seeing his face over the 'man of your dreams' you'd been gushing about all October.

Seungmin:

Sometimes you forget just how tall your boyfriend is - until he's walking so calmly behind you in your apartment as you fumble to get away from him. He'd grabbed at you, pinned you to the wall, held you by the throat, but let you get away because he won't admit it aloud but he enjoys the thrill of the chase just as much as you do.

The heavy thud of his boots against the wood flooring stops as he watches you trip over your own feet and go down in the hallway, about to ask if you're okay before biting his tongue to stay quiet. He watches you whimper and whine on the floor, making no frantic move to get up.

Seungmin moves slowly to stand beside your body, pressing the bottom of his boot down into your upper back and forcing your hips up as he crouches. He grins behind the mask, flipping up the material of your skirt to hook a finger in the lace of your panties.

He listens to you gasp, feels the way you shudder beneath the weight he pins you down to the floor with. And he basks in the way you yelp when he lets your panties snap back against your slit, slick leaking from your cunt so heavily he's sure he's never seen you that wet in his life.

Maybe you'd do this more often - and not just 'once a year for Halloween.'

Jeongin:

"Open up."

He doesn't wait for you to obey, forcing two fingers into your mouth and pushing down on your tongue until spit threatens to leak from parted lips. He watches as you gag, swaying a bit where you kneel in front of him - where he holds you still with his free hand wrapped around your throat.

Slowly, he sinks down to crouch in front of you, and the way his thighs tighten under the denim of his black jeans makes you want to jump his bones. That and the mask he currently wears paired with the black sweater and - well, previously mentioned bottoms.

"Gonna be a good girl and sit still?"

Your body writhes just at the words, squirming under his hand. He retracts his fingers, dripping with your spit as an annoyed huff escapes from behind the mask. He shoves - pushes you down to the floor until you're on display for him. And he knows you won't get up. You'd stopped fighting back after he'd first had a grip on your neck.

Standing back to his full height - he looks far taller than he really is from this angle, and you bite into your lip to try and hide the excited grin crawling over your face. It disappears almost immediately as pressure is applied to your dripping slit, the bottom of his boot pressing down against your mound. Your hips jut up, silently begging for more until he pushes more of his weight down to keep you pinned where you lay.

"Beg for it."

JeongChan [Jeongin + Chan]:

"Is this what you wanted? You corrupted our youngest, Y/N-ah.~"

Chris grins from behind you where he kneels on the mattress, one hand gripping at your wrists to keep them pinned together behind your back while the other fit two fingers right in your mouth. He seemed to hold you open for Jeongin, the youngest of their group's cock bruising your pallet as he fucked into your throat relentlessly. If it were up to him he'd be biting and kissing at your neck - but his mask was in the way and he couldn't really let go of you to take it off. You'd been a brat all night. (Not that they couldn't handle that.)

Jeongin just grins down at you when you peek up at him at Chris' claim. His hand tangles in his costume, dragging it up to expose the lower half of his toned abdomen. As if he wasn't Godly enough already. He relishes in the wet sounds coming from your throat, his head slowly lulling back until his neck bared open to you, littered with bite marks from you previously nipping at him.

You wanted to bite back - to tell Chris that this wasn't your doing. You didn't make Jeongin this wildly horny or aggressive with the way he fucked you. It wasn't your fault he was so needy right now.

Well, little do you know.

Changbin [Changbin + Hyunjin]:

"Oh my God, puppy.."

Hyunjin whines out behind his mask, cock sinking deeper into your walls as he hisses behind clenched teeth. He grips tight to your hips, dragging your body gently back so he could use your all-fours position to his advantage. Dark eyes, lidded and warm, wander over to his roommate currently sitting on the edge of the bed.

Changbin's in shambles. He should be grabbing at you, fucking your mouth until you were begging for mercy - but he's melting under your kisses and gentle sucking on his skin that left marks over his tummy and hips. He leaned back on his hands, eyes dripping with admiration as tears clung to his lashes. He'd never felt so appreciated - which was odd because right now they were both dressed up as your favorite slashers just for you.

"Who knew - dressing up like this would make her want us so bad."

"I did." Changbin's eyes redirect to Hyunjin, unable to see his expression but able to hear the smile in his voice. Leaning over your shaky form, Hyunjin's hand finds Changbin's side just as your mouth took his pretty, chubby cock whole. The older of the two choked, eyes rolling back and body nearly slumping against the mattress.

"You deserve the appreciation, Hyung." Hyunjin chuckled, hand moving from Changbin's side and down to the back of your head. He pushed with one hard movement, listening to you choke as he sunk deeper into yours walls, forcing you closer between his Hyung's thighs. "There we go.~"

Sunshine Twins [Jisung + Felix]:

"Oh my God," Jisung huffed from beneath you, his hands fit tight to your hips where you sat in his lap. Costume hiked up around his chest, your hands wandered over every inch of bare skin you could find while simultaneously bouncing on his cock. He kissed at your cervix, promised bruising in the morning and no walking tomorrow - You'd have to call in to work after this shit. Too bad, so sad.

"You're not having too much fun without me, are you?"

A gentle voice lulls from behind you, kneeling over Jisung's thighs and pressing in closer. You can feel him prodding at your entrance, free hand resting over your side to get you to stop for just a moment. You pause your movements and Jisung groans behind his mask, hands gripping tighter at your skin.

Felix hums, the sound low in his chest as he gently nudged you forward. Leaning down closer to Jisung beneath you, Felix moves in and carefully lets his cock slip into you with ease - what with how wet you are, pussy gushing from one orgasm already and how wet Jisung had you.

"Good girl." He smiles, biting into his lip and leaning in close so his chest was flush to your back. It was their turns to move now, taking over with finding a rhythm that worked for the both of them and had you seeing stars almost immediately.

"Jesus," Jisung huffs, thighs tense and body tight. "Fuck..."

Felix simply smiled, mask discarded and hair a mess as he let his lips brush over the warmth of your shoulder. "So good taking both of us at once. It's only right, I suppose. Paying us back for doing this for you."

You sigh out in bliss, vision white with another approaching orgasm. "Anytime."

2Min [Minho + Seungmin]:

Minho sighs, the sound slow and steady as he stares down at you from where he sits. He could be mean, could be rough; rut his hips up into your mouth until you were choking and gagging, spitting around his cock. But he was patient, pliant, letting you do what you wanted because they did this for you, after all.

Not to say it didn't feel good. It was fine, your mouth felt nice all warm and wet for him. He just preferred having control.

"Hm."

The hum that escapes doesn't come from him.

Seungmin sits nearby - in the cuck chair, you'd labeled it - not-so-patiently watching as you sucked off his favorite Hyung. He sat, legs spread, leaning back and leaning his cheek against his fist. Minho lifts his head to look over at the younger, lips parted and face flushed from the current events. But he pauses and his pleasure halts when Seungmin moves to stand, the sound of the chair creaking making you look over as well.

Popping from your mouth with a wet plop, Minho's cock drips with your spit and Seungmin hums one more time at the sight of the flushed head. He wastes no time in moving to you, grabbing you by the hair and fisting it tight to pull you up. You gasp out with a whine, fumbling to stand before moving to bend over the bed when he pushes you to do so.

Minho perks up where he sits, watching Seungmin tug his mask off and throw it over into the chair where he'd previously been sitting and just watching. Which he most certainly would never be doing again, he decided.

Standing from where he sat, Minho moved to join Seungmin in tugging your jeans and panties off until you were exposed to them, shivering and whimpering as Seungmin's hand pressed down on your lower back to keep you still.

They stood for a moment just to admire, Minho's hand running over your hip and down your thigh. The silence is broken by a quick, hard slap to your pussy that comes from the younger of the two - something that makes you jolt and even Minho startle.

"Think you're just going to make me watch?" He bites, words punctuated by another slap to your dripping folds. As he pulls his hand back, slick clings to his fingers and as he spreads them to knead at the plush of your ass, it smears over your skin. "Not gonna happen, baby."

Minho shifts. Pulling himself from his stupor, standing there like he was stupid, he bit into his lip under his mask and grinned down at the sight.

"This is more like it."

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

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woso-dreamzzz · 30 days ago

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Menor's Halloween

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The second of my Halloween-centric fics

Alexia grins as she looks at herself in the mirror, straightening out her skirt and putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

The family Halloween party has been a staple ever since her childhood, bringing the family back together every year without question.

It was basically a rule at this point, something no one could get out of and chosen to take place on a day when no one has an excuse to be elsewhere.

"Are you ready yet?"

It's Olga's first time at the party, unable to make it the past few years. She's gone fairly conservative with her outfit, a generic Halloween costume of a zombie cheerleader.

Alexia can forgive her though because originally Olga hadn't been able to come until her meeting in Madrid was cancelled last minute so she had to buy the unpopular costume from the store.

Alexia, on the other hand, has had her costume planned out for months with everything ironed to perfection.

"Ready!" Alexia calls out," I just need to find-"

"The bag is on the table where you left it last night."

Alexia grabs the bag from the table, swinging it over her shoulder before slipping into the driver's seat of the car.

Family events like this one normally end up with a lot of drinking and, while she wouldn't usually partake, Alexia's already planned to allow herself a few more drinks than normal.

Olga's decided to take up the driving home duty to let Alexia drink however much she wants.

"I'm nervous," Olga says, straightening out her cheer skirt and rubbing at her face - though she grows a little annoyed when the face paint rubs off onto her fingers.

"Don't be nervous," Alexia says," You've met everyone before."

"I know but...Halloween party seems more official."

"They'll probably already be drunk," She replies," And try to ply your with pizza. Or paella. Depending on if my aunt cooked or my uncle convinced her to order in."

"Sounds delightful."

"That's the spirit!"

Alexia knocks on the door, greeted by the slightly tipsy face of her cousin when it opens.

He giggles a little, a sure-fire sign he's been drinking. "I-I thought you were already here." He bursts into more hysterical laughter after that and Alexia gets the feeling that she's not in on the joke.

"And you've brought the wonderful Olga! Come in! Come in! Can I interest you in some pizza?"

"So Tio convinced her?"

"No. Mama cooked. Papa just ordered in anyway! Off you go now, Ale. I want to talk to your girlfriend!"

He pulls Olga away without another word and Alexia rolls her eyes.

"Gee, I love you too. Typical."

Alexia rolls her eyes fondly, easily losing her cousin and girlfriend in the crowd of family members either halfway to drunk or already firmly there.

A giggling hiccup has Alexia turning to see another one of her cousins by the fridge.

"I could have sworn you were already here," She says, giggling and Alexia sighs.

"Alright, what am I missing here? You're the second person to tell me that."

Her cousin giggles again, downing another vodka shot and shooting Alexia a drunken smile. "Just that I could have sworn you came with Tia Eli today. Though...you did seem a little shorter."

She giggles off before stumbling away but she's already given Alexia all the information that she needs.

She picks her way through her family members, stopping briefly to say hello to the aunt and uncle who are hosting and then her mother before finally seeing who she's been looking for.

"Is that my shirt?!" She demands," And my armband?!"

You turn around, eyes wide. An answer is on the tip of your tongue before you take in what she's wearing.

"Is that my skirt?! Are those my rackets?!"

"Don't change the subject!" Alexia says," You've dressed as me for Halloween?!"

"You dressed as me!"

"That's different."

"How?"

"It-It just is!"

Alexia takes you in as she steps back. You've got your hair done up in her usual ponytail rather than your regular braids. You've got her full Barcelona kit on along with the armband and her boots. You've even brought a football with you just in case people didn't realise who you were meant to be.

Alexia, on the other hand, had gone out of her way to dress like you. She's wearing one of your tennis skirts and your Nike shirt. She's got her hair in your usual braid with your Barcelona cap and even the gold shoes Nike gave you for your Olympic run. She's got a racket bag over her shoulder, full of the old rackets you'd left at home before your move abroad.

You seem to be taking Alexia in just like she's taking you in before nodding.

"Those are the replica shoes, right?" You check.

"Yeah. They cost a lot though. You're quite the superstar. That isn't one of my hattrick balls is it?"

"No, just one of the ones you leave lying around at Mami's."

Alexia nods. "Good. You look good though."

"Thanks, I practiced your haughty look a lot."

Alexia rolls her eyes. "I don't have a haughty look."

"You so do all 'I'm Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, the best team in the world'."

"But I am Alexia Putellas and I am captain of Barcelona which is the best team in the world. I won the Ballon D'or twice, you know."

"Yeah, well I won all the Grand Slams. And the Olympics."

"Now, now," Alexia says," This isn't a bragging match. Because if it was, I'd win." She reaches for you, trapping you in a headlock and rubbing her knuckles against your head. "Which one of us has more awards?"

"Only because you're an old woman now. By the time I'm your age, I'm going to be the greatest tennis player in the world."

"Yeah," Alexia teases," Aim high."

You grin at her, shoving her away before trying to tackle her to the floor. She doesn't move an inch but you had been expecting that.

"I guarantee I can score more goals on you than sets you can win against me."

Alexia laughs.

"The garden's free. Want to test that theory?"

You grin. "Well, don't start crying when you lose."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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dollfacefantasy · 2 months ago

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ADD TO THE COLLECTION ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finds an old halloween mask out on a supply run. he brings it back to you, and the two of you put it to good use

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, mask kink, praise/degradation, cnc sorta

a/n: yes i wrote another ghostface mask kink fic. idc idc. you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands. every single man i simp for will have one if it's the last thing i do <3

kinktober slot: day 4 - mask kink

"Ew. You know that thing probably has like a billion diseases, right?" you say, a wide smile spreading across your face as you look at the raggedy Halloween mask in your boyfriend's hand.

The slender, pale face stares back at you with its motionless expression of horror. You hadn't seen one of them in a long time. Certainly not since the world went to shit.

"A billion? I don't know about that. Maybe a million," he teases.

Rick enters the room and approaches where you sit on the bed, wanting to show off his find from the supply run a bit more.

"Don't bring it too close to me. I don't wanna catch something," you say with a hand raised in defense.

"So dramatic," he mocks, "I'm not gonna put it on you."

The wooden floor creaks below his boots as he steps to the edge of the mattress. He sits down, the foamy surface dipping with the addition of his weight.

You can't help leaning forward a little bit out of curiosity. Scooting closer to his side, you look between his face and the mask.

"Were you guys raiding a Spirit Halloween or something?" you ask, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckles. His hands rotate the mask between them. It actually isn't in horrible condition. Maybe a little dusty, but there aren't any huge stains or tears. Visions of him wearing it rise to the front of your mind. You could imagine his head turning, the hollow black eyes following you as he watched your figure move about. The thin fabric fanning out over his shoulders also comes up. Your favorite though is the thought of how it would look above you while he thrusts in and out of you.

Shaking those images out of your head, you refocus when he answers your question.

"No, nothin' like that. I just saw it and thought of you," he tells you, turning his head and pecking your cheek, "I remembered you tellin' me how you used to love those movies."

You almost visibly swoon. "That's so sweet. Slasher movies make you think of me," you coo, "How did I get so lucky?"

Your arms slide up and drape around his neck, bringing you closer so you can nuzzle the side of his face. His skin scratches at you a little bit. The prickle of stubble was rising again.

He returns your affection and pushes the mask aside in favor of pulling you into his lap. The two of you melt into each other and then back onto the bed. One of the perks of living in Alexandria now was not having to wait until everyone fell asleep for the night to go at it.

Rick could be so soft for you. Ever since the two of you met, he seemed so naturally protective. He always lets you hold his hand. Your safety was his top priority along with that of his kids. Before the world went bad, you'd bet he was the kind of guy to hold the door open on dates and call women "miss" or "ma'am."

You're pretty sure that's why you want to see him in that mask so bad.

You knew Rick had another side to him. Something beneath the mask of being the good guy. You'd seen it before a few times. The nights where he ended up soaked in someone else's blood, the sticky crimson liquid coating his facial hair, staining his clothes.

A week after he first found that mask, he comes to your room at night wearing one of the pieces of clothing that's been marred with someone else's insides.

The mask over his face has been cleaned. He clearly washed away the dust and any other sign of mileage on the thing. The ivory plastic front shines without a spot of grime while the black fabric draped atop his hair sits there, dark as the night sky outside.

It's a sharp contrast to the white t-shirt he has on. The cloth pours down his neck and over his shoulder onto the light garment. But the abdomen of this top isn't as pristine as the collar. Blood speckles across the snowy threading, the pattern spatters in a way that makes it look like one of those ink blot tests. If you were the one being questioned, you'd say it looks sort of like a tree.

He stands there against the frame of the doorway in silence, waiting to be noticed. You had been cleaning your boots. When you finally finish, you rise from your spot on the edge of the bed and tuck them in their normal spot against the wall. Sighing, you lean back and prepare to finally have nothing left on your to-do list.

But you feel the other presence in the room. You catch him in your peripheral vision, and a gasp tears through you. Your heart springs from a calm resting beat to erratic thrashing against your ribcage. Thoughts melt from your head while breaths grow spikes in your lungs.

Once you turn your head fully and give your brain a second to register that it's only him, you start to calm down. You let out a deep sigh and put your hand across your chest.

"God, don't do that," you huff, "You scared me."

He doesn't respond.

You continue to catch your breath before looking over at him again. Your eyes scan up and down his figure. He leans against the wall so casually. His arms cross over his chest while his ankles hook one on top of the other below. Even though you can't see his gaze, you can feel the intensity of his pupils on you.

"You're lucky I didn't have my gun on me," you tell him and narrow your eyes.

Again, you get no words out of him. But this time he does push off the edge of the entryway and step forward. He swings the door shut behind him and continues to stare you down.

It's weird. Having him just stand there, digs a pit in the bottom of your belly. For a split second, your mind floats the possibility that this isn't him. The paranoid sector of your head poses questions like what if this was someone else who just found the mask? What if they just looked like Rick?

But then his arms drop from his chest and you see the silver of his watch glimmer in the pale moonlight.

It doesn't kill the tingling in your nerves any; rather, it transforms the sensation. It's a different kind of strange seeing Rick act like this. It wasn't the version of him that came out for a true threat. He was never so silent when that was the case. In moments of desperation, he became feral - eyes darting around, limbs taut with the preparedness to strike. But that's when you realize this isn't a moment of desperation. He's the one in control. He's the threat in this situation.

"You're not even gonna try to run, little girl?" he asks, his voice coming out in that familiar drawl but with a little edge to it.

Your spine lights up like a fuse. Excitement seeps into your bones. Everything feels jittery. You don't know what to do or say. In this moment, you just want.

"You're in the way. I don't have anywhere to run," you say. Your voice waivers almost as if you naturally fall into the role of the helpless victim.

It's weird hearing yourself like that. In the world you lived in, you never wanted to sound like that. Showing weakness meant death. And hearing it from someone you loved meant their time was coming to end. Being able to express it now though, it felt different. You weren't sure how to articulate it, but that could be due to the fact that you'd never been so turned on before in your life.

He approaches you further. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his slow steps. You try to back up but your knees hit the mattress.

"No runnin'? You're gonna make this too easy for me," he chuckles, "Put up a little fight."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. He leans in closer to you, reaching up to drag his fingers down your cheek. You try to lean back but end up having to sit on the bed and scoot away on the mattress to create some distance.

He just laughs and grabs your ankle, preventing you from getting too far. You try wriggling your leg a little bit, but he tightens his grip and grabs the other one.

"Tsk, tsk. Pathetic," he taunts, "You're just gonna let me take what I want?"

You try kicking a little harder, but it's of no use. Each jerk of your leg goes to waste. Nothing changes. There would be no difference if you didn't move at all and just made what he said true.

"So cute," he mocks, "Just tirin' yourself out for me."

"It's not fair," you whine. You roll yourself onto your belly and try to drag yourself away by grabbing the edge of the bed. He doesn't let you though. Even though Rick was lean, he didn't lack strength. That coupled with his training as a pre-apocalypse police officer meant he knew how to restrain people. You whimper and buck your hips to try and create some momentum to get away, but it's all of no use.

"You cheated. You didn't give me a chance to run," you continue to pout before repeating your prior sentiment, "Not fair."

He laughs and whips you around onto your back again. This time he leans forward and tugs your hips harshly, dragging you over the collection of blankets so that your ass is flush against his semi-hard bulge.

"Who said I have to play fair, princess?" he asks, "Weak little thing like you wouldn't have made it far anyways."

Another whine bubbles from your lips as you squirm. He looms over you, keeping you accessible to him with the weight of his body. As he closes in, your breathing becomes heavier. The white ghostface stops inches away from the tip of your nose. You stare into the expressionless eyes of the match while your cunt throbs against the heat of his pelvis.

"You're lucky I caught you here. Spares you the embarrassment of getting dragged back, kicking and screaming. Or even worse, me pounding you into the grass out there where anyone could see," he breathes.

You shudder at the images his words create in your head.

He can feel the tremble of your limbs, and he pushes the mask up slightly to bare his lips. For a second, you think he's going in for a kiss. And in a way, that's true. But it's not on your mouth. Instead, he ducks down to your throat. He attacks it with fervor much more intense than what you usually felt from him.

These kisses are hot and open-mouthed. The tip of his tongue tickles your pulsing skin. His lips feather against it while his teeth nip and tug. All you can do is melt under it. You try to keep in character and put up a bit of resistance, but it's not a strong performance.

His fingers hook over the top of your little sleep shorts and panties and pull them down to your mid-thigh. That was all the room he needed. His hand not clutching one of your biceps slides down between your thighs. He can feel the slick on his fingers in seconds, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, aren't you? The slightest bit of attention, and you're dripping. I didn't even have to do anything," he says.

After those words hit your ears, he pulls back. He tugs your shorts all the way off to free your legs before he shoves his jeans down far enough that his length can spring free. He's almost fully hard. The sight of your slippery cunt makes it easier to take it from almost to solid.

He strokes it and watches you. It's obvious how ready you are, but he can't help but want to draw it out a little more.

"Take off your top," he commands.

Your breath hitches, and you swear you feel your heart stutter. Of course, he'd seen you naked before, but it felt new here. This wasn't Rick's cool blue eyes gazing down at you with love. It was the dark, empty patches of painted plastic.

Nevertheless, your hands venture down and peel your shirt from your body. Once it's gone, your tits are left exposed to his view. He doesn't touch them, and you can't see if he stares directly at them, but it feels like he does.

He pumps his cock a little faster. A small groan rumbles from his mouth.

"I don't even have to say it twice. You didn't even need to see my face to listen. I either have you so well-trained, or you're just the most natural slut out there, babydoll. Just waiting for orders to follow like a little puppy," he rasps.

He pushes forward and slides his leaky tip against your folds. A small whine sneaks out of you at the pressure on your clit. The head nudges it before gliding down toward your entrance again where it pops in.

You both hiss at the feel. On his part, you're already so warm and tight. For you, it's the mild stretch combined with the satisfaction of having something inside you. Either way, it's just a taste of what's to come.

He sinks in more, guiding the rest of his shaft into your pussy. Whimpering, you arch your back off the bed the tiniest bit. His hand lands on your tummy and pushes you down again though. He forces you to take it all and then rocks his hips back and slams forward again.

"So sensitive," he teases.

His hands curl around your hips before he starts thrusting. Like the earlier kisses, his pelvis snaps against you with more force than usual. Your eyes roll back from the bouncing rhythm while your fingers clutch the linens beneath you.

"Poor baby. You never had any fight in you to begin with," he teases, "You give in so easily."

"It- it's not my fault," you whimper. More moans seep out of you. It feels like every slap of skin on skin knocks a new noise from you.

"Oh yes it is," he grunts, "You didn't even try because you want this. You just wanna be filled up. Don't even care who's doing it."

As he says that, your hazy eyes look up at the mask. "Do too..." you pout.

Your walls squeeze around him tight at the sight of the haunted face watching you. It bobs a little with his motions as well, shaken by the force of them.

He laughs at you from beneath the mask and speeds up a little. You clench around him in tandem with your toes curling. He leans in and bends you further in half on the mattress.

"Ok sure, sweetheart. That's why you didn't even need to see my face before I slid my dick inside you," he breathes.

Your little clit throbs at the words. As if he can sense it, one of his hands rises to thumb at the nub. Your hips buck in response, eager for more. Deep, whiny sighs flood into the air from you. He can't get enough.

"That's right, keep squeezin' me, darlin'" he says, arousal infecting his tone now too.

You nod like you have a real say. The way he was battering your pleasure spots and swiping at your clit had you tightening up involuntarily. He still moans with the feeling though. His head tilts back. You can hear his panting getting louder below that mask.

A few strokes later, he reaches up and yanks it off, dropping it to the floor next to his boot. His hair hangs damp against his forehead while his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat. None of this stops him from fucking into you though. It's as if he can't stop. The chase for release captures him on a deeper level.

Even without the help of ghostface, his stare is intense. His pupils glare into you as he provides you with more pleasure than you know what to do with.

"You think you're gonna cum for me? Gush all over my cock?" he croons mockingly.

You nod. Your arm weakly flies up so you can grab at his wrist. "Need it, Rick," you whine.

He chuckles, a small smirk teasing his lips. "You can have it then. Let it go for me," he says.

Your hips buck in time with the next handful of whimpers that leave your lips. The climb to the top feels so fucking good. Your core sizzles up until it reaches a fever pitch and you explode into white hot pleasure. A low, satisfied hum reverberates from you as your eyelashes dust your cheeks.

He fucks you through the feeling, one hand on your throat, the other down at your clit, swirling around the small nub a few times to give you the extra boost. It makes you nice and tight around his dick. Your walls squeeze like a vise. He has no choice but to let go.

As desperate as he is to fuck it deep inside of you, he stops himself at the last second and pulls out. He grabs his cock at light speed before that feeling can vanish and pumps it at the same rhythm he'd been thrusting into you.

Warm, milky ropes of cum shoot out onto your belly. The splatter across your skin, glimmering in the cool light of the night. You force your eyes open when you hear his deep moan. You're almost certain you've never seen anything as beautiful as Rick's face when he releases. His brows furrow while his jaw relaxes. He parts his lips in a small o. You watch with droopy eyes, the haze of lust still not totally gone yet.

When he's finished, he stares down at you in a similar fashion. His hand cups the back of your neck so he can bring you up to give you a kiss before he goes and grabs a towel. The bloody shirt he'd been wearing is gone when he returns. He cleans the spend off your belly and then crawls back into bed with you.

You snuggle up to him, ready to close your eyes and conk out. But then you think of something.

"I knew it was you before you took off the mask," you say. The flesh of your cheek smooshes against this chest.

He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Cause your watch," you say proudly, as if you'd discovered some great clue.

The information registers but then his lips break into a grin. "Hmm, smart girl. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever put on the mask for something secretive," he teases before yawning and tugging you closer to his side.

"Mhm, cause I'd figure you out right away," you murmur.

"I'm sure," he agrees, pressing a few kisses to your head. "Get some sleep, baby."

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #twd x reader #twd smut #twd imagine #twd x you #twd x y/n

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6esiree · 3 months ago

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Halloween With The Hazbin Men And Your Daughter

With Spirit Halloween already showing up around town, I’m out here thinking about Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam taking care of your daughter during Halloween. 🤭

Alastor:

• I feel like he would be the type to hand out treats—or more like tricks—but with your daughter in the picture, he’s walking around Hell’s neighborhoods with her little hand holding onto his, his back slightly hunched because of the significant height difference between the two.

• If your daughter begged Alastor to wear a costume… it would most likely be something as subtle as Jim from the Office wearing a sticker on his shirt with the name “Dave” on it. While she’s 5-years-old, she’s already accepted her adoptive father’s stubborn nature.

• Oh! And if someone tries to pull a trick on your daughter, which is not likely to happen with him around—but if it does, you best believe that Alastor will summon one of his minions to make sure that she listens to his instructions: close your eyes, cover your ears, and turn around, while he devours the poor soul for trying to scare her.

“Daddy? Why did you ask me to do that?” Your daughter innocently asks after he shrinks back to his normal size. His minion vanishes with a wave of its hand, so she narrowly misses the way his tongue swipes across his teeth.

“Well, to get your treats, my sweet little doe,” Alastor says, handing her a full-sized candy bar, which he definitely stole from a random kid’s basket. That house was only dealing tricks, after all. “Now, let’s move onto the next house, shall we?”

• Your daughter tries to grab his hand again, but Alastor decides to carry her, his spine slightly aching after walking down several blocks with his back hunched. She is delighted, of course, a chuckle reverberating through his chest as she marvels at the different view, eating her full-sized candy bar all the while.

Lucifer:

• Oh, Lucifer would be absolutely elated to take your daughter out trick-or-treating. He’s willing to wear everything and anything as a costume, no matter how embarrassing it may seem, excited to relive what he used to do with Charlie.

• Hunching? What’s that? Our short King doesn’t have to worry about his back hurting if your daughter holds his hand while going door-to-door in the neighborhood, although he’d rather have her sit on his shoulders in fear that someone will try to take her.

• Nobody is going to try and pull a trick on your daughter with Lucifer around, they’d be stupid to do so. But if they have no treats and only tricks, the random sinner will probably scramble to find something sweet in their house to avoid him turning them into a frog or something, lol.

“Wow! They gave me more candy than the other kids,” Your daughter gasps as she stares down at her basket, already filled to the brim despite only trick-or-treating for 30 minutes. “Look, daddy!”

“Oh, that’s amazing, ducky! Do you want to continue walking around or…?” Lucifer asks, his hands clasped behind his back as he anticipates her response.

“No, because my mommy won’t even let me eat that much candy,” Your daughter says, but Lucifer leans down and whispers in her ear, telling her that he’ll promise not to tell her how much candy she eats.

• And he keeps his promise, allowing her to eat all the candy she wants on the way back to the hotel, even eating some alongside her. But when your daughter complains to you about having a stomach ache, you end up scolding both of them, leaving Lucifer a flustered mess.

Husk:

• Oh, Husk would definitely be the type to stay back and hand out treats, but only because Alastor forced him to. With your daughter in the picture, however, he’ll be spared from the mind-numbing duty.

• Would Husk wear a costume? Hmm, I’m not quite sure, but if your daughter whines enough, he’ll acquiesce and allow her to put something on him. He is not pleased when she swipes his hat off of his head and replaces it with a tiara.

• Husk is not as tall as Alastor, and even though your daughter is rather short, the man spends most of the time hunched anyway. He doesn’t mind holding her hand as they go door-to-door, but he does mind the snickers random sinners toss his way at his half-assed costume.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bub?” Husk growls after your daughter receives her treat, and he almost feels bad for causing a scene in front of her… until she unwraps the candy bar and it ends up being fake.

“Oh no, it’s plastic,” She pouts, her big, round eyes staring up at Husk in disappointment, brimming with tears, especially as the sinner in front of him laughs. “Daddy?”

“Aight, pumpkin, turn around and let ya old man deal with this chump,” Husk instructs her, and she complies… sort of, kind of, peeking through her fingers and giggling as he knocks him out.

• After that, Husk takes your daughter in his arms and uses his wings for once, an excited squeal seeping past her lips as he flies to the nearest gas station, allowing her to take whatever candies she wants, leaving his poor wallet hurting. But the way she smiles up at him as he pays for everything makes it all worth it.

Vox:

• Does Vox even go outside? It would take a whole lot of begging and whining from your daughter for him to even consider giving out candy outside of the Vee tower. Much like Alastor, he’ll wear a half-assed costume and call it a day, your daughter sitting on his lap as you give out candy.

• Every time your daughter looks over her shoulder with those big, round eyes of hers, he’ll put on his signature grin, making sure that she doesn’t see how displeased he is that he’s giving out candy in Hell for the first time. For some odd reason, it’s just embarrassing to him.

• Vox doesn’t bother giving out tricks… until one unsavory child tries to take more than what your daughter is supposed to give, hurting her in the process. He has a TV for a head, so I can imagine him putting on something scary, and all your daughter sees is him chuckling as she turns around in confusion.

“Daddy? Why did that little boy run away screaming?” Your daughter asks, turning away and watching the boy run down the streets of Hell in fear, candy spilling from his bucket all the while.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweet pea,” Vox says as he settles down, affectionately carding his claws through her hair, making her giggle. “Is the candy almost done?”

“Yes—are we going to do something else after that?” Your daughter asks, digging through the bucket, finding a candy she likes. “Oohh, and can I eat one?”

• Vox allows your daughter to have whatever is left, knowing that you’re not particularly keen about her eating too many sweets. Plus, he could have anything else sweet whipped up in the Vee tower easily, alongside some child-friendly Halloween movies, of course. Maybe next year he’ll go trick-or-treating with her.

Adam:

• Look, I’m not religious or anything, but I’ve met plenty of Christians who do not celebrate Halloween, but let’s say Adam is in a secret relationship with you, a sinner, and begrudgingly agrees to look after your daughter while you’re out with some friends.

• He can’t take your daughter out trick-or-treating, so he decides to put on some movies in your room and brings a lot—and I mean a lot—of candies and sweet treats for the two of them to indulge themselves in. Adam ends up eating most of the stuff he brought, however.

• Your daughter plays with Adam’s mask, pretending to be an Exorcist after losing interest in the movie, an amused chuckle reverberating through the angel’s chest as she trips over his leg. He quickly spreads out one of his wings, so all she feels are his feathers when she falls.

“You wanna be an Exorcist, just like me?” Adam asks as he watches her peel his mask off, her head nodding vigorously. It’s bittersweet to him—the 5-year-old doesn’t know the full extent of what Exorcists actually do.

“I want to be a fighter just like you, daddy!” Your daughter says, jumping over his legs and pretending to fly, her mouth stained with chocolate. “And have wings like you, and that round thing on your head—“

“The halo?” Adam chuckles as she approaches him, her hand tapping it. “Yes, this thingy majiggy,” She giggles, sitting back and taking some of his candy; and while he usually doesn’t like sharing what he’s eating, he doesn’t mind her taking some. “Hmm, I’m not sure if your mommy would like that, princess.”

• Adam invites her to eat more candy with him in an effort to make her drop the whole Exorcist topic. And fortunately, your daughter drops it, sitting next to him and eventually falling asleep in his arms, using his belly as a pillow. He never thought he’d feel bad about Extermination Day, his hand stroking her hair as he watches the TV.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #husk x reader #vox x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor imagine #lucifer imagine #husk imagine #vox imagine #adam imagine #just did this for fun hehe

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angeldiarybook · 1 month ago

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Spooky season with Stu and Billy°。

Billy Loomis

-him being very focused while carving a pumpkin for you

-him sneaking into your room at night with his ghost face costume on to scare you

-low key scares you even if it’s Halloween or not (it’s just his demeanor)

-wearing his flannels when it gets chilly outside

-catches you using his Ghostface voice changer to prank call people on Halloween

-you guys watch nightmare on elm street in his room on Halloween night

-probably dresses up as Norman bates for Halloween if he feels like it

- sorts out your candy on which ones he wants and doesn’t want when he gets bored

-taunts (threatens) Randy to let him borrow any Halloween movie you want to watch such as hocus pocus and what not

-black cats always seem to be near him

-lets you do Skelton make up on him

-takes any slasher mask at spirit Halloween he can get his hands on (kinky ig)

-watches random goosebumps episode while you take naps on his bed during gloomy weather

Stu Macher

-him throwing Halloween parties

-watching Scooby-doo Halloween specials with eachother

-devouring pumpkin pie together

-him having an unhealthy addiction with pumpkin spice lattes

-acting like dumbasses at spirit Halloween

-screaming so loud into your ear while clinging onto you while you guys are at a haunted house

-him shitting on candy corn but secretly eating them when no one is around

-wants you guys to dress as Shaggy and Velma (he asked Billy to be Scooby💀)

-gets so thrilled and excited wanting to see your reaction to his surprise of an extreme boo basket he made you

-binge watch iconic horror movies (even if it’s not spooky season)

-loves doing Halloween couple activities with you such as painting pumpkins

-going to corn mazes with you just for his tall ass to hide in the fields to attempt to scare you

-letting you wear any of his cozy sweat shirts that he has

-forces you to rake a big pile of leaves just for him to jump ontop of it

-definitely trying to be sneaky while stealing candy from literal children

@vzp1kl

#billy loomis #ghostface #stu macher #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x you #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x you #stu matcher imagine #stu matcher x reader #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #billy loomis x stu matcher #billy x stu #stu macher x reader

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camille-lachenille · 27 days ago

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Fëanorions and fam go to the ren faire:

Maedhros: basic tunic and cloak with a hood. Leather boots and belt, a giant bag with a first aid kit, snacks and water for everyone.

Maglor: cliché jester outfit in clashing colours with extra long shoes and obnoxious bells on his hat and the point of his shoes. Carries a ukulele and plays earworms the whole time

Celegorm: Spirit Halloween Robin Hood costume (yes Nelyo, the leggings have to be that tight), Huan is dressed like the Sheriff of Nottingham in the Disney cartoon

Caranthir: painstakingly reproduced by hand a historical outfit from a Byzantine mosaic, sourcing the most historically accurate fabrics he could find. Yes, these are real pearls and gems. No, he won’t say how much the whole thing is worth nor how long it took him to make.

Curufin: borrowed old stuff from Maedhros. He put all his time and efforts making Celebrimbor’s garb

Amrod: front part of a dragon puppet

Amras: back part of a dragon puppet

Celebrimbor: asked his dad if he could dress like a knight and Curufin made him real plate armour and a sword out of aluminium so it’s not too heavy and roped Caranthir into making a tiny gambeson to wear under the armour

Fëanor: black t-shirt and jeans, spends all his time critiquing other people’s outfits

Nerdanel: Merida cosplay, having the time of her life beating the shit out of buff guys at strength games

#maedhros #maglor #celegorm #huan #caranthir #curufin #amrod #amras #celebrimbor #fëanor #nerdanel #the silmarillion #silm crack #ren faire

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angelisverba · 1 year ago

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praise

in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny

word count: 5.5k

pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)

warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.

author's note: happy late halloween!

When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.

She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.

Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.

Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.

Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.

He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles.

So y/n had a little crush.

A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it.

She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her.

In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.

Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.

But she couldn't.

Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.

She could imagine it.

He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.

And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.

So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.

With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.

A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.

She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.

But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.

She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.

***

Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.

He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.

Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.

A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.

He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.

It reminded him of one his students, y/n.

She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.

But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.

Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.

She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.

Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.

But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.

Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by.

Not that he noticed.

Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.

Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again.

This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.

He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.

Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.

Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.

It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.

Her hearbeat.

Calm. Steady. Alive.

It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.

He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.

He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.

She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.

Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.

Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.

He had to get her to speak.

The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.

Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”

At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.

Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.

Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.

"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.

But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.

In fact, he looked almost... mad.

Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.

Everything, including her breathing.

He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."

She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.

Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.

And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.

One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.

This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.

"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"

***

Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.

She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.

He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.

“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.

"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.

"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.

"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.

She was wrong.

Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.

Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.

And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.

Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"

She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"

"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.

In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."

She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.

“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.

He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.

"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."

When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.

"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.

"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.

Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.

The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.

"You were a bad girl, y/n."

Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.

She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.

His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"

"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.

He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"

Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”

“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.

“I need to cum, sir. I need-”

“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”

"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.

She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-

"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.

"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.

"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.

"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.

"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.

Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.

Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.

He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"

"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.

"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.

"I understand, Professor"

He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."

*****

happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #vampire!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x yn

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phregnancy · 2 months ago

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i saw someone say they blanked on coming up with tit preshow questions so here are 40 questions i would ask that you can take

- does phil consume cannabis in any form for his migraines

- list three book recommendations

- will sister philip made an appearance for halloween this year

- will phil try a slutty halloween costume from spirit halloween

- if you had to change your height, what height would you be

- who bought the precious baby angel shirts

- can phil walk us through his philognese cooking process

- are you ordering deliveroo multiple times a day or do you get enough for leftovers

- what was dan’s clumsiest moment recently

- phil what are your favorite musicians/bands that aren’t muse

- dan what was the last song you learned to play on piano

- what is one aspect of your personality that you feel has changed the most over the last fifteen years

- phil once said he knows how to make salad, what does he put in his salads

- what is your least favorite liquor

- what was the most sentimental gift you’ve received recently

- has phil hurt himself since the rib breakage

- dan have you taken any color blindness tests since hearing about this theory

- phil shares little linguist facts every now and then, dan, is there anything you learned in university that’s worth sharing

- when was the last time you cried and what prompted it

- fmk: chappell roan, janelle monáe, kehlani

- who is your favorite character from scott pilgrim, and you can’t pick wallace

- what bingeworthy tv series have you watched recently

- if you couldn’t get a corgi or a shibe, what type of dog would you get

- how would you cope with going bald

- if you could each change one thing about each other what would it be

- has phil gotten more comfortable around babies since becoming a guncle

- what are your most embarrassing food moments (public spillage, being caught eating something you shouldn’t, etc)

- can’t be career related, what is one thing you both are looking forward to

- what studio ghibli character do you most relate to

- what is something not many people know about you / would assume about you

- what is your favorite quality in the other person

- has phil always been a gentle princess or is this a phlonde-era development

- when eating cereal, do you prefer to use a tablespoon or a teaspoon

- if dan is concerned with phil stealing his cereal, why doesn’t he start buying two boxes

- phil have you had any interesting dreams lately

- if dan has to cook, what is his go-to meal

- where did you get your mario piranha bouquet from

- you two have gone to many award shows and events wearing two button suits, with both buttons buttoned. are you aware that you’re always supposed to leave the bottom button open

- any nailsinki plans? will phil get his nails painted this time?

- what do you like more about manchester than you do london

#amazingphil #phil lester #dan and phil #dan howell #phan #dnpgames #terrible influence tour #dnptit #tit preshow

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byllsbytch · 2 months ago

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Halloween Party 🎃 (18+)

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Genre : Smut

Summary: Dressed up as pirates you and Nicolas head out to a party, it turns out to be a great time and toward the end of the night things start to get heated.

A/N: Due to popular demand - the Halloween party plot was most voted upon so here ya go!

Warnings: p in v (tbh i dont know whats a warning)

I sat on the floor in front of the mirror. Makeup all around me. It was chaos, organised chaos though. I reached over to a fresh pack of eyelashes and placed them on to finish the look. Fuck I was smoking and I wasn’t even done. I leant over behind me to my curling iron and turned it on waiting for it to heat up. While waiting I scrolled through my phone and a message from Nick popped up on my screen.

“You’re gonna love my costume, I’ll be over soon.”

I smiled at his message before putting my phone down and reaching for the curling iron. We planned to go to the party together as pirates. I wrapped my hair around the rod and held it for a few seconds repeating the steps until I’d curled all of my hair.

Once I was finished I grabbed a bandana and wrapped it around my head. Finally I got changed into fishnets, boots, a skirt, white button up shirt and vest. I walked to the living room and loaded up my cooler bag with drinks and a pack of lollies I bought to get into the spirit.

“You’re looking good.” Mum called from the couch.

I smiled knowing damn straight I did.

“Thank you Mum.”

“Nicholas is still tagging along yeah?”

“Yeah he is, why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well, he’s cutting it a bit fine isn’t he?”

I looked at the clock.

“Yeah, but we’re in no rush.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“OK then.”

Almost on cue a knock appeared at the door and I answered to be met with Captain Jack Sparrow.

“You look so good!” I shrieked. “Stop it!”

He looked at the ground a large grin on his face.

After the praise he looked back up and his eyes were stuck on me, his face going redder.

“Woah! You look gorgeous, who knew a pirate could be so HAWT!”

He took a step inside and followed me to my room.

“Can I please put eyeliner on you?”

In character he bowed, “Of course m’lady”

I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with my eyeliner in hand.

“Ok baby, so you have to keep your eyes open and look up.”

He hummed in agreement.

I brought the pencil to his waterline while he brought his hands to my hips slowly rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion.

His eye twitched like crazy. “Eh! Uh, Uh!” He groaned.

“Shh Nick! Stop being a baby, relax your eye.”

“Oh my god! It’s not relaxing! I don’t know if you can tell… Jesus how do you do this?”

He gripped tighter onto my hips as I started on his other eye, digging his nails into me. I folded backwards yowling in pain.

“Fuck! Ouch!”

Nicholas quickly jumped up from underneath me with instant regret.

“Oh my god babe I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on here!” Mum screamed.

Me and Nick both flung our heads into her direction.

“Oh,” She said quietly. “Nice eyeliner Nicholas.” Before turning back around and heading out the door.

We both look at eachother in silence then began to lose it, laughing hysterically.

“We better go.” I tried to say in between laughs.

I got up and reached my hand out to him, he grabbed my hand and wiped his tears with the other hand.

I grabbed the bag full of drinks and headed out the door, it wasn’t long until our friends swung by and picked us up.

Arriving at the party the music was already loud and bumping, the house was decorated nicely. Lights and projections illuminated the exterior of the home.

Me and Nick walked in hand in hand and began to mingle with all the other party goers. The house was packed with people and we were all cramped like sardines.

Once the liquid confidence kicked in, I joined Nick to the dance floor. Nick was being funny and bopped his head, pouting his lips. I giggled at his silly-ness and swayed my hips to the music, keeping my eyes on his. The music was upbeat and Nicholas grabbed my hand spinning me. We danced together and sang all the songs at the top of our lungs. It was so much fun.

We became sweaty messes and Nicholas took my hand as not to loose me dragging me outside to the cooler air.

“Oh this is much better.” I groaned fanning my face with a paper plate I picked up from the buffet table. Nick stood behind me and lifted my hair off my neck.

“Thanks babe, how’d you know?” I laughed.

“You’re gonna have to do the same to me in a minute, this wig is so fucking hot.”

I turned around, him letting go of my hair, placing a hand on his chest.

“That wig IS so fucking hot.”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle and I lifted the heap of hair off his neck, fanning him now with the plate.

“Fuck this sweat and all this makeup, I cannot wait for a shower.”

Nick grinned looking me up and down. “Me too.”

“I’m gonna get us a drink. Objections?”

I shook my head. “None whatsoever.”

He took off back into the crowd and loud music.

I scanned around me and seen people jumping in the pool, other drinking and then a girl laying in the bush, spew all around her. Yikes.

I walked over to the food table and grabbed some munchies placing them on a plate for me and Nick to share. I then walked back to where I was before so Nick would loose me.

After a while he came back with drinks.

“They’re doing beer pong in there if you want to play.”

I gestured the plate toward him and he grabbed a mozzarella stick.

“Sure, can we finish our drinks out here and then go in?”

“Yeah of course darling.” He wrapped his free arm around me rubbing my shoulder.

Nicholas spun his head toward the girl in the bush and made a disgusted face. “Eh. Nobody see this?”

“I don’t think anyone cares to be honest.”

“She’s sleeping good alright.”

I sipped my drink and once I got to the last mouthful I downed it.

Me and Nicholas walked back into the muggy house and felt the heat instantly his us. The smell of sweat and booze lingered. I noticed that the house was all foggy whether that was a result of a smoke machine or the many vapers in the house I couldn’t tell at first. Judging by the fruity smell it was the vapes.

I stood behind Nicholas as he played his turn at beer pong, cheering him on. He managed to get 3 cups before missing on his fourth attempt. The chick opposing him absolutely crushed his team, dunking 7 cups in a row.

Later on in the night I had a girl spill her drink on me and I was so fucking ready to fight her. I grabbed all of my hair and started to tie it up, to which Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me away.

“It’s not worth it!” He yelled over the music.

I looked at him and instantly calmed down.

“Just wait here I’ll get you some paper towel.”

“I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” I yelled back so he could hear me.

I’d seen the line to the bathroom and threw my head back in annoyance. I leant on the wall with my arms folded waiting for the queue to die down.

Nicholas found me and looked around before shaking his head.

“Come.” He said holding onto my hand and taking me upstairs.

“Nicholas, we shouldn’t be up here.”

“Pft, it’s fine, no one will know.”

He lead me into one of the bedrooms which had a bathroom connected to it.

I hoisted myself up onto the bench which Nicholas soaked the paper towel handing me one, I scrubbed at my t shirt while he wiped the drink off my chest. He stopped what he was doing and looked me in the eyes with a hunger.

I lifted my head up noticing his sudden halt. He’d placed his hand on the spot of my chest he was cleaning previously and then moved his hand up toward my neck, his hand pushed back until my head touched the mirror behind.

I spread my legs making room for Nick to get in between them. He came closer and tucked the hair out of my face all the while I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kept his hand behind my ear, continuing to look at me with desire. We stayed in this passionate encounter for a couple second before Nicholas had brought his soft lips to mine. He tasted of spirits, making me drunker by the second. I’d had fully given into him.

I wrapped my fingers into his hair, slipping my tongue into his mouth as he sucked on it. Our tongues went to war for dominance, with Nick’s ultimately winning.

“Best get this dirty top off, I don’t think that stain is coming out my love.” He managed to hush out in between our kiss. Immediately I obliged taking off my vest while Nicholas undid the buttons of the white shirt. He stood back to watch himself slip the shirt of my shoulders, admiring me.

“You’re just too perfect my beautiful.” He closed the gap between us, holding my face in his hands. I felt him poking me. “Ouh!” I moaned excitedly moving my hands down to his pants and rubbing his bulge. I yanked at the top of his pants and he groaned lowly as a way to give permission. I began to have a go at his belt. Trying to rush and get his buckle undone quick only made it harder for me so I had to break the kiss and focus on getting the belt undone. Nicholas was panting and looking down at what my hands were doing.

“Mhmm, that’s it baby, you got it, good job” He encouraged me, making me instantly look at him for his validation. He nodded, causing a big smile to approach my face. He wasted no time sliding his pants down. He forced his way between my legs and I brought my feet up to the edge of the counter giving him full access.

His fat cock sprung free and I began to stoke him, teasing him. He threw his head back thrusting into my hand. He lifted my skirt over my thighs and pulled my panties to the side, exposing my wet pussy. He spat on his hand for extra lubrication and slipped his fingers between my wet folds, inserting two fingers. I stopped all movement, especially stroking Nick and gasped, reaching my hand out to grasp anything. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me before he teased my entrance with his tip. I flung my knuckle to my mouth and bit it, a weak attempt to silence my pleasurable screams, not that anyone would have heard it through the load music that echoed through the walls.

Nicholas kept his eye on me to watch my reactions, he was pretty good to take notice on what to do, if I didn’t like something or if he should keep going. Judging by the look on my face his had the green light to go faster.

I leant my head back and let the pleasure take over me, Nicks dick repeatedly hit all the right spots. I wrapped my hands around his neck for support and Nick leant in to continue the passionate make out. He slid his tongue to the back of my throat and licked my teeth.

He took it upon himself to lift me. With the back of my knees being supported by his forearms his repeatedly lifted me and dropped me back down onto his member. I buried my head into his neck and dug my nails deep into his back, making scratches that left welts.

“Uh-huh right there.” My words started to become gibberish, as I felt myself coming close to orgasm.

“Nick, uh, right there, right there, right there.” My pitch became higher and my words faster. He continued thrusting into me.

“I’m gonna cum!” I screamed twitching in his arms, my eyes rolled back into ecstasy and I continued to ride out my high. Nicholas placed me back onto the counter before giving his final few pumps, trying to chase his high. At this point I was overstimulated and really sensitive.

“Nicky Baby! It hurts!”

“I’m right ther-“ Before he could finish his sentence he released his load and folded in half, collapsing on top of me.

We both panted loudly and Nick looked back up at my face smiling with a light chuckle.

I placed my hand on his abs and shook my head with a smile.

“Are you ok?” He asked inbetween pants.

Unable to say anything I just nodded with my eyes half closed in satisfied relaxation.

“You were so fucking good baby.” He said planting a kiss on my forehead.

Nick handed me his shirt, “Just put this on, I’ll hold onto your dirty shirt.”

“And you’re just going to walk around half naked?”

He stared at his pecs in the mirror, “Well yeah, I don’t plan on staying for long, I think we have a date with the shower.”

I laughed and shook my head standing up, my legs were wobbly and I couldn’t walk properly for the life of me.

“Yeah I think we should go now, lets not worry about hanging around.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrow at me standing awkwardly

“Shit, I’m sorry babe.”

“It’s fine, as long as you make it up by round 2 in the shower and cuddles and candy in bed.”

He nodded, “Agreed.”

Nicholas was distracted by his reflection again.

“Sorry I gotta say fuck captain jack sparrow looks good shirtless” He winked and clicked his tongue then walked to the door.

“You bet your ass!” I said, following him out the door and slapping him on the ass.

#nicholas alexander chavez #fanfic #fluff #grotesquerie #father charlie mayhew #monstererikandlylemenedezstory #ryan murphy

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