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trueangel420 · 2 months

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precult!Kai Anderson, the female anatomy. ౨ৎ nsfw , bestfriend!reader. wc : 1506

Kai sat next to you on the couch, his laptop resting neatly on his lap. He shifted around, adjusting his gray sweats, before looking at you. You and Kai spent a lot of time together; after all, you had been best friends for years. You knew everything about him—his parents situation, his insecurities—except for one thing: he was definitely a virgin. He was waiting for you to notice him, his eyes glued to you with an amused expression on his face. “What?” you asked, looking up from your notes and leaning over to stare at his computer screen. Your eyes widened as a flashing warning that read 18 or older appeared on the screen. You watched his fingers press “accept” as he entered the X-rated site. “You’re not serious, are you?” you snickered as he moved closer, your knees now touching. “Yes, best friends do this kind of thing all the time,” he argued, as if you’d believe that. Your IQ was just as high as his, if not higher.

“Kai, I’m not watching porn with you.” Kai’s face flushed slightly, but he didn’t back down. “Come on, it’s just for fun,” he said, trying to maintain his confident facade. “Fine,” you huffed, closing your textbooks and focusing on him completely. He didn’t know what to do at this point; he had expected you to say no and put up a fight. But you didn’t, and now here you are, sitting next to him and looking at his laptop.

“So, what now?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. Kai shifted nervously, his bravado faltering. “Uh, I guess we just... watch,” he stammered, clicking on a video. As it started playing, the room filled with slapping noises. You glanced at him, taking in his reaction as his eyes wandered along the screen. It was almost absurd what you were doing, sitting here watching his breaths quicken slightly, the noises becoming louder as he watched it—this definitely wasn’t normal, but it was better than studying all night. You didn’t focus on the laptop, though, only on him, despite the moans and groans and the wet slapping noises.

“Porn isn’t even a good example of female anatomy. Women don’t act like that,” you said, glancing over at him with a slight frown. “Uh, what?” he stammered, the noises from the screen still playing in the background. You let out a groan and pointed at the girl on the screen. “She’s fake moaning,” you explained. “Everyone knows porn actresses are just acting.”

"So…It's just for entertainment. It's all fake?" he asked nervously, his eyes flicking between you and the screen. "Kai," you said, confused. "Are you saying you haven’t figured that out yet? Have you ever...?"

“You’ve fucked before, right?” He felt his body warm up slightly, your blunt words making his erection jump in his pants, and thank God for the laptop; if you’d see his reaction, he wouldn’t know what to do. “I—yeah, I’ve fucked before.” His tone was almost convincing—key word, almost.

You wanted to laugh. You sat up straight, looking at him and leaning on his arm—he could feel your breasts pressing against him. “You’re a virgin, Kai?” You teased as you pressed pause on the video, “You never had sex before?” He couldn’t speak; his dark eyes looked into yours, and he let out a breath. He could feel his cock jump again. He shifted in his seat, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I’m not a virgin,” he declared, though the words came out more like a desperate attempt to convince himself than a bold assertion.

“Really? Show me,” you blurted out before thinking, your eyes widening in shock. You quickly cleared your throat, ready to backtrack and insist you were joking. The last thing you wanted was for Kai, your best friend, to prove he wasn’t a virgin—not at all. It was as if something primal inside him snapped. He couldn’t articulate the words, but he set the closed laptop on the floor and turned toward you, his Adam’s apple bobbing once more. “Show you?” he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he breathed in deeply. You had intended to laugh it off, to say it was just a joke, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you felt a flush creeping across your cheeks—warmth mixing with embarrassment and something else entirely. “Show you?” he repeated, his tone firm as his eyes flicked to your lips for a moment. “You want me to show you that I can fuck?” His voice dripped with confidence now. Your throat went dry, and every instinct urged you to say yes—to nod in agreement. But all you could do was stare at him, caught in the intensity of the moment.

“I can fuck,” he couldn’t; he knew he couldn't, but he’d watch so much porn; surely it can’t be that hard, right? “Kai…” You whispered as he stared at you again, “I’ll show you; let me show you,” he said, his voice strained. “I don’t think that’s—“

You found yourself flat on the couch, your legs settled on his shoulders as he grabbed at your leggings frantically—you panted the excitement making you shiver; he was greedily touching all over you—squeezing places he didn’t know he could squeeze. It was forbidden to him, his own best friend, but he was so starved. "Fuck,” he groaned, grabbing the leggings again and ripping them, the cold air hitting your cunt. god—god, kai jaw was slack as he stared at your lips, his finger touching over the folds, the wetness making him shudder—god he was so close, so close to fucking for the first time, god he was desperate.

“Kai—oh my god,” you gasped. He wasted no time burying himself in you; he’d been erect all day; he knew whether you noticed or not; it didn’t matter now; his cock was in you—well, it was almost in you. “Kai—are you—are you in me?” You stammered. You felt him prodding at you before he shook his head. He felt so deep already that you couldn’t believe it. “Just put it in, okay?” you huffed out, your chest rising and falling as you clenched around him. He inched into you so slowly, so slowly that his eyes glazed over as he stared at you. He pressed his hands on your lower stomach—he’d seen that in a video. “Kai—“ you choked before he slammed down his hips, snapping into yours.

He was overwhelmed, so overwhelmed, and you were too—but this wasn’t your first time; this was his; you couldn’t tell, though, not to with the way he’s rutting into you like an animal in heat. With each thrust making his eyes clench shut, you pawed at his lower stomach, your hands trailing down his vline—he was deep, too deep.

“Kai,” you choked your eyes shut, brimming with tears. You felt yourself whining as the noises came out louder. He pressed his palm harder against your lower stomach; he could feel himself hitting the soft, spongy spot. “Tell me how I feel,” he ordered, his pace still relentless, and all you can do is gasp. You couldn’t answer, not with him knocking against your g-spot. You heard the loud gushing noise as he continued, his lips parted slightly as he rutted slower, trying not to cum. You were so full, so full. “You—you feel—“ You whimpered, your hands pulling him closer. Dignity was overrated anyway. He grabbed your hands this time, pinning them over your head as he speed up again, thrusting into you.

“Oh, my God," you practically screamed out. He let out a huge grumble; he couldn’t hold it any longer, not with you looking like this, your back arching off the couch—he moved his hand off of your wrists to your clit, rubbing it frantically; he needed you to finish before him. You felt your eyes roll back as he kept abusing that spongy soft spot, his fingers rubbing on your clit in a quick circular motion.

He didn't know if this was working, but the way you clenched around him made his hips stutter. He kept going, and you got louder, nearing the brick of overstimulation. “thought you said it was all fake, look at you screaming” his thrusts got more desperate he could feel his stomach tighten and all you could do is whine and moan louder—you won’t be able to talk tomorrow. Dignity was overrated at this point; it didn't matter with him on top of you like this, fucking his seed into you like his life depended on it. “I'm no—“ you felt the warmth pool into you, your eyes widened despite the panicked look you had. You clenched and released around him feeling yourself finish with him. He collapsed on top of you, his breathing shaky, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he calmed himself down. He’d never admit it was his first time, not with his ego, but it didn’t matter. You were both embracing each other, minds blank and completely spent.

#evan peters #kai anderson #tate langdon #stan bowes #kyle spencer #james patrick march #american horror story #kai anderson smut #ahs cult #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #fem reader

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kai-anderson-whore · 1 year

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In the office (Stan bowes x fem reader) smut

Summary: Stan bowes is your boss and one day in the office everything changed

Warnings: smut, mentions of a divorce, blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, reader having sexual relations with their boss

Word count:1,6k

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You walked into your bosses office with a pile of paperwork on your arms, with a soft sigh your knuckles knocked on the hard wood of the door waiting on your boss Stan Bowes to allow you in.

"Come in" his voice echoed through the other end of the door you turned the handle peering through the door, "Mr Bowes I have the paperwork you asked for" you smiled politely your skirt was shorter than usual Stan noticed making him feel hot.

"Just put them there y/n thank you" he smiled trying to hide the boner he got as you placed the paperwork on the desk your cleavage slightly exposed yet leaving Stan wanting more, you didn't do it intentionally funny enough you were running late for work and threw on the first things you could find what happen to be a bit small for you.

"Is there anything else I can do for you Mr Bowes?" You asked standing straight back up. Smoothing out your shirt Stan stared at you with an intense gaze making you nervous. "Yes there is infact y/n shut the door over I've got something to say" he instructed You nodded your heels clicking as you walked over closing the heavy tall door.

"Yes Mr bowes?" You asked wondering what he wanted to say. You noticed the mood shift in the room your breathing got heavy as Stan smirked noticing your nervousness. "Do I make you nervous?" He asked Standing up from his chair.

"N-no sir" you said with shocked eyes, your boss never asked anything like this before. but your boss just chuckled at your answer. "You sure y/n it seems like I do why's that?" He questioned further.

'Fuck' you mentally cursed yourself. End of the day Stan did make you nervous he's your boss end of the day. But he was a understanding boss and was kind you couldn't take that away from him, he was fair.

Stan stepped closer to you face inches away. "Do you know what I think it is" he said his hot breath fanning your face making you grow hotter for your boss. "What?" You asked.

"I think it's because you want me to fuck you am I right or wrong?" His theory wasn't wrong at all. You had the hots for your boss since you started working for him. Many late nights you would spend thinking about him.

You blushed nodding your head "yes" your voice barely above whisper. "Then why don't we make it happen" he suggested his lips inching closer to your red stained ones till they met. You dreamt of this moment for so long and it felt better than you had imagined.

"Wait" you said pulling away your hand on his chest. "Your married Mr Bowes we can't" you said feeling guilty. "Actually not for long we're divorcing" he informed you furrowed your brows "Oh Stan I'm sorry" you sympathised placing a gentle hand on his arm comforting him.

"It's alright I was the one that filed for the divorce anyway" he shrugged his eyes darting from your own then to your lips. You grew impatient with the constant back and forth you decided to take this into your own two hands. Bumching onto his suit jacket bringing him closer smashing your red stained lips on his own.

Stan was shocked at your sudden action but responded to your lips. His hand on your waist holding you close. Your hands letting go of the jacket and resting on his chest. Stans hands roamed lower resting on your ass giving the covered flesh a squeeze earning a moan from you.

You pulled away again only this time dipping to your knees. Your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, unzipping the zip of his suit pants pulling them off. You gulped seeing his erection through the white briefs he wore underneath.

Your fingers dipped into the waistband of stans briefs pulling the fabric restraining him away. A sigh left stans lips as you wrapped your hand around his shaft stroking him. You took the tip in your mouth swirling your tongue around earning a groan from him. You felt the wetness drip from the warmth of your core, the lust building more for your own boss.

You knew deep down this was wrong but it was a little too late and you didn't really care. Your mind clouded within the heat of the moment working your warm wet mouth on Stan. Growing wetter by the second bearding those sweet moans leave his lips. "Fuck just like that keep going" he praised as you took him deeper in your mouth. Your tongue pressed flat against his shaft. His hand wrapped around your hair holding you close.

Continuing to push your head back and forth, occasionally kitten licking the reddish tip gaining a taste for the salty taste of pre cum. Your hand trailed down your body to your thighs eventually getting lost under your skirt circling your clit through your soaked panties. You moaned against stan's cock making him twitch in your mouth. You looked up at him through your mascara coated eyelashes that slightly ran down your blushed cheeks from the prickles of tears, you saw what could only be described as pure heaven.

Stan stood there with his eyes screwed shut, his chest heaving, the small beads of sweat decorating his forehead. And the sweet noises that left his lips. You felt him twitch in your mouth but Stan pulled away from your now swollen lipstick smudged lips making you furrow your brows in confusion.

"Stand up" he instructed you wasted no time getting up on wobbly legs. Stan guided you to the edge of his desk where there wasn't much of anything. Shrugging out your skirt, You pushed your body to sit on the cold wooden desk making shiver as the coldness came in contact with your hot skin.

Stan's hands roamed your thighs your breath hitched awaiting his next move. His hands got higher and higher till his thumb came in contact with your clit rubbing the bundle of nerves through your underwear. You bit your lip suppressing the moans desperate to escape your lips. "Come on let me hear you" Stan grinned moving the fabric of your panties to the side, pushing two fingers inside you.

You let out a gasp Stan wasted no time pumping his digits in and out you stretching you out slightly but enough to give you pleasure. "Oh fuck" you hissed. Stan used his other hand to unbuckle his belt allowing his trousers to fall down freeing his cock from his tight underwear. You gasped at the sight mouth watering with all the filthy thoughts that ran through your head that will become true.

He removed his fingers from your needy heat, teasing you with the tip collecting your arousal. You wriggled closer to Stan desperate for him. Stan bucked his hips up slowly entering into you. Your back arched against the wooden desk as he pushed himself further into you, blissfully stretching you out.

Your walls fluttered against stan's cock trying to adjust to his size. Stan had his lips back on yours, Stan pulled his hips back making your gasp against his lips he took this opportunity to deepen the kiss. Stan pulled away from your lips, his hips thrusting into you the desk moving with each hard thrust Stan delivered.

Your fingertips gripped the back of his blazer pinky adding more fire to his fuel. His thrust got harder and faster with each and every tug you gave to him. Your walls clenched around him your moans filled the office but you tried to suppress them by biting your lip once again, fearing that everyone will hear you.

"Come on let everybody know that your boss is fucking you real good" he grinned cockily. You didn't care if anyone could hear your mouth letting all those sinful voices out. Your ankles clamping together keeping Stan in place. All stan's paper work now over the floor but neither of you cared.

Sweat decorating stan's forehead, his hair tossled out its pristine way, he was a sight for sore eyes. Just picture perfect to you. The way he gripped onto your hips, eyes filled with lust and desire compared to the bored dull ones he usually has in work.

You felt dangerously close to the edge your walls fluttering against stan's cock. Your moans, the low grunts from Stan plus the sound of your hips meeting together was all that filled the office walls. Stan was truly intoxicating and you craved more.

Stan continues to thrust into you with a fast and hard pace, driving you crazy. “I’m so close” you panted out. Stan didn’t say anything but kept chasing both your highs, he was dangerously close to the edge as well the droplets of sweat decorating his forehead.

With just a few more thrusts you reached your climax, releasing all over stan’s cock. Your back arched as the most sinful moan left your lips triggering stan’s own orgasm. Your legs trembling at how hard you came undone, a moan coming from Stan like music to your ears.

Once you both calmed down Stan pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden loss of contact. Tucking himself back into his suit pants, you sat up with shaky legs fixing your attire properly. You were both silent but not awkward it was comfortable.

“I should get back to work mr bowes” you said trying to hide the crimson blush in your cheeks thinking about what you both previously did. “Take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow I want you back in here” Stan instructed. You let out a smile at the fact stan wanted to see you again, sure you worked with him he is your boss. “Okay thank you mr bowes”.

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evanpetersfangirl · 7 months

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Evan always tries to play hide and seek with me, god 🙄🙄🙄

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babygorewhore · 1 year

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Tied up. Stan bowes Smut.

You’re tired of working your useless job. Until one night you see an advertisement listing. You accept. What happens next?

WARNINGS! Bdsm themes. Daddy kink. Fingering. Oral! Fem recieving. Ropes. Age gap! Pnv!

You took another swig of the drink in front of you. You had worked late again. Your clothes were wrinkled, you needed to shower but you had to stop at the bar first.

“Another round?” The bartender asked, raising his brow when he saw the empty glass. You opened your mouth to say no, considering you had to work again tomorrow, but you decided to say fuck it.

You nodded and he proceeded to pour the liquor into the glass, sliding it over to you.

The television played the news, showing the same tragic events that happened yesterday. You hated watching it. All the negativity. All the people turning against one another. It made you sick.

You were a housekeeper. At a hospital of all places. You’d been there for two years. Your back permanently tilted from lugging around buckets and a trash can all day. Your scrubs were stained from bleach, your hair thrown up in a bun and you hadn’t worn real clothes in a week. You were only 21 years old, living in a shitty apartment downtown.

If you quit your job, you’d have to move back in with your parents and that’s not what you wanted. You wanted independence and freedom yes but you also wanted security and the ability to enjoy things around you. Everything was so fucking depressing.

You hadn’t been on a date, other than driving through a parking lot with some football player who tried to shove his hand up your skirt an hour later and you slapped him across the face. Your life wasn’t interesting. But you craved intimacy. Something. Something to make your life more enjoyable.

As you rode in the Uber, scrolling your phone you saw a ad on a job search that you forgot to unsubscribe too. “Wanted housekeeper.” It said. The pricing was more than you made and one day less than you worked.

Biting your lip as you walked inside your apartment, you looked around the room. You kept it tidy, given your job but you groaned when you saw it was after midnight. You’d have to be up soon. You glanced back at the add. Cleaning a house? Verses a hospital. Again, you decided to say fuck it. You clicked on the application and added your resume, contact information and photo. Throwing off your shoes, snapping off your bra, you climbed into bed and turned on your comfort show you’ve watched for the 100th time.

Your eyes drifted shut before you felt your phone buzz.

Groaning, you rolled over and selected your phone. It was an email. The message from from a name, Stan Bowes. And you skimmed the text before opening it. “When can you start?” It read. You sat up, surprised at the fast response. Normally that would be a red flag but you were desperate.

You typed. “Two days.”

Waiting, you shimmied out of your scrubs and laid back down. Your phone lit up and you checked it. “Done. Here’s the address.” You breathed harder. That’s it? You had a new job. Sighing, you curled into a ball and fell asleep.

You arrived at the house two days later, wearing your stained scrubs. It was big, bigger than the house you grew up in and you realized something as you reached underneath the welcome Matt for the key. As you opened the door, the entrance welcomed you. This guy was rich, you thought while closing the door behind you.

Modern furniture, art and shiny hardwood floor adorned the living room. Your feet padded the space and you frowned. It was pristine. You went into the large kitchen, an island was wiped off. The dishes put away, and it even smelled clean.

Was this the right address? You checked again on your phone. It was the right address.

You climbed up the stairs, opened up the first door on the right. Finally, you saw the mess. Clothes thrown everywhere. The bed unmade. Trash bags everywhere. You nodded to yourself and set down your cleaning supplies. This would take you a few hours, with that including vacuuming, dusting and cleaning the window. You knew how to extend your time, making the pay fair.

The hours went by, you finished the bedroom and made your way to the downstairs. You felt unsure of what to do, you could vacuum and mop the already clean floor. Deciding to do that, you started humming to yourself as you twirled the cord. This was significantly more peaceful than scrubbing blood off hospital floors but you worried. Was this is? Cleaning a bedroom and tidying an already clean rest of the house?

The door opened and you turned, wiping your hands on your pant leg. A man entered, holding a briefcase and he was wearing a suit. He was handsome, brown hair, brown eyes with a strong nose. He was taller than you, lean muscle. 30s, you guessed. Younger than you imagine for having a house this big.

“Oh, hello, Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded, and extended your hand for a shake.

He gripped your palm, shaking it gently. “Stan. Stan Bowes.” You smiled in greeting, feeling nervous by his attractive face.

“You’ve done a wonderful job.” He noted, glancing around the room.

“Well-honestly it was already clean when I arrived, Mr. Bowes. I’m a little worried to be honest. There wasn’t much for me to actually clean.” You confessed.

“I know. I wanted to be private about this job, because I couldn’t advertise my real intention.” He said, sinking onto the couch.

Your head tilted. “True intention?”

“I…advertise cleaning to keep things subtle. But really, my real hope is to have someone’s company.” You almost groaned when you realized exactly what he meant.

“So, you’re a sugar daddy? Is that what you’re saying?” You asked, withholding a cackle. You couldn’t believe you fell for something too good to be true. Granted you were a little tipsy, tired and you were about to fall asleep.

“I-I don’t care for that but…I-“

You held up your hand. “Let me guess. Cheating on your wife?”

He stilled, his shoulders dropping. You knew you hit a nerve. “My wife. We’re not together anymore. But she has my children most of the time. And I-I’m desperate. I’m desperate to have someone near me. My wife was more like a roommate. And after a while, I wanted to leave but she didn’t want that. I filed for divorce, she fought me the whole time and finally I’m here.”

You sigh, believing him. But what were you supposed to do with this information? You couldn’t just sleep with him for money. Well, you honestly could, he was hot as fuck but…would to be worth it? You needed the money. Badly. You hated your job. You hated your life.

“What would I have to do? Sleep with you?” You asked.

Stan shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Just…keep me company. Talk to me. Spend time with me. And I’ll take care of you in return.”

You went home after that statement, you got out of the shower and put on your robe. You hadn’t made a decision yet. Promising to text him after you did. Walking to your small bedroom, you sat on the bed and sighed.

Just spending time with him? Talking to him? That’s it. That’s all he wanted. A paid girlfriend basically. You would be responding to a 30 plus year old divorced single dad. It was every teenage fantasy you had but this was real life. How would you explain this to anyone? “Yeah, mom. My boyfriend. He um pays me.” You laid on your pillow.

You debated this. This wouldn’t last forever, who knows how long. It wasn’t guaranteed. But you couldn’t help the urge to try it. He seemed like a nice guy. Lonely, but nice. He saw you in dirty scrubs and still asked you to be a his sugar baby.

Picking up your phone, stopping yourself from thinking about it too long, you brought up his contact information on your phone.

“I’ll do it.” You typed. You pressed send.

“Meet me at my house tomorrow. 8 o clock. Wear whatever you want.”

You bit your lip, your heart quickening in pace. You didn’t have much to work with but you did have an idea.

The next day came, you rushed home from work, jumped into the bath and scrubbed yourself clean. You wore your hair down, threw on some eyeliner, lip gloss. You wore all black as you rode in the Uber on your way there, you dressed the same as you did in high school.

You arrived at his house, 2 minutes to spare and you jumped out. Walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

He answered, wearing a white suit shirt, black trousers and his tie was loose. You felt underdressed. “I hope what I’m wearing is okay?” Stan guided you inside with his hand on your back.

“Of course. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, I mean.” He chuckles awkwardly and you both go into the living room. Sitting down, you press your knees together and wait for him to tell what was going to happen next.

“How was your day?” He asked you, settling next to you.

“Oh, it was-okay. Boring honestly. My life is boring.” You shrugged.

“Boring? You’re so young and you think your life is boring already?” Stan questioned. “Tell me more.”

“Tell you about me?” You parroted and he licks his lips. Nodding.

“I was a good kid. Always stuck to the rules. Pretty good parents. But I had a rough time in high school.”

“Why do you say that?” Stan asked and you could see his sincerity through his brown eyes.

“Oh you know, I was bullied. Asked out as a joke. Just typical high school shit.” You laughed.

“Someone asked you out as a joke?” Stan asked, disgust evident in his tone.

“Oh, more than once actually. The first three times, I actually fell for it.” You leaned back on the couch. Stan leaned forward, resting his hand on your knee. He gave it a soft squeeze before he pulled away. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserve better.”

“What’s your story? I mean. I know you’re lonely. Divorced. With a couple of kids. But what else? What makes you Stan?” You inquired.

“I’m as uninteresting as they get. I’m afraid. My life is meaningless. I go to work. Come home and go to sleep. Start it all over again.” He rubbed his hand over his face.

Now, you were curious. He was sitting with his legs spread. He had muscular legs, you had to admit. He was desperate. Paying a stranger to spend an evening with him, just talking. “Who do you work for?” You quipped.

Stan quirked his eyebrow. “Donald Trump.”

“Oh shut up,” You laughed. “No you don’t.” Stan’s eyes slid over to you before he reached inside his pocket. He pulled out his badge. It was an identification from the building downtown. One that Donald, orange trump owned.

“No way. So, that’s your secret huh? You work for him, you make a bunch of money and you’re a sugar daddy? I don’t think that’s meaningless.” You giggled and he rolled his eyes before smiling to himself.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to my ex wife.”

“When was the last time you went out, Stan? Got out of your house that obviously doesn’t need cleaning?” You flashed your eyebrows at him, the words flowing off your tongue like honey. His veiny hands extended down his legs as he leaned on his knees.

“It’s been two years since I’ve partied. What about you? A shy, young girl, living in a studio apartment. Working as a housemaid. Surely, you like to go out?”

You hummed and pulled your legs up to your chest. “Last time I went out, it was to a rock concert. A tour of three bands. I stayed out until 3am. I had just turned 20. It was the best night of my life.”

“A rock concert huh? For some reason, I took you as a Ed Sheeran fan. Or Taylor swift?” You smirked.

“I like other things too. And I’m not just some young girl. I have dreams, goals, you know.” The more you spoke, the easier it was.

“I’d love to hear them.”

“I want to get my psychology degree. I want to help people. Make a difference actually. Instead of what I’m doing. I’ve always to reach someone. Pull them from the darkness.” You spoke with your eyes focused on his white ceiling. You felt him shift.

“I want you to do that too. I can tell you would be good at helping people.” You turned your head to look at him. He had moved closer.

“Why?”

“Because you’re helping me. Right now.” He whispered. And glanced at your lips. Your heart thudded louder against your chest. You knew what he was thinking. But would you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?”

The request hung in the air like a ringing bell and everything went silent. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, to your eyes. Then down again. What would happen if you said yes? Would that be it? You wouldn’t know unless you gave in…

You nodded.

Stan leaned in slowly, his hands still on his laps as he breathed in your scent. His lips encompassed your lower one, softly sucking on the flesh. Your hand went to rest on his chest, gently gripping the fabric as he deepened the kiss. Turning his head to the side, he brushed his tongue against your lip, asking for entrance and you granted it.

He groaned into your mouth, his hand reaching to cup your jaw. His mouth was warm, his hand calloused as he ran his thumb across your cheek.

Stan leaned his weight down, pinning your back against the couch as he kissed you, hungrily and desperately as his hand moved from you face, to your neck, squeezing softly.

You pulled back at the contact, breathing heavily and glanced at his hand encircling your neck. Stan leaned back, almost ashamed of his actions. “I’m sorry. I know…it’s not part of the deal. I just couldn’t seem to help myself-“

“It’s okay. I liked it.” You whispered, caressing your neck.

He looked at you again, eyes darting to your own hand. “I haven’t-kissed a woman in a while. I know this situation is extremely complicated. You don’t owe me anything. And if you want to leave, you can. I’ll still pay you for everything. But-“

“Stan, it’s okay. It’s just a kiss.” You reassured him before biting your lip. Kissing him, your core tightened at his heavy breathing. Soft romantic eyes…

You went to your hands, crawling over to him and you straddled his lap. Either legs on the side of his pelvis and his eyes widened. Your hands settled on his shoulders, before trailing to his hair. It was soft underneath your fingertips. Could you do it? Your hips rolled against his, you felt him harden beneath you and you smiled at him. You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from, but you didn’t want it to end. “Mmmm,” You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his neck. “You seem so nervous, Stan? What’s wrong? You’re not used to being wanted?” Your mouth settled on his sweetspot by his collarbone and he shivered at your tongue brushing against it.

“I-I don’t know. You’re so young. So inexperienced.” You gently bit down, and he moaned, his hand moving to your lower back. His other went to your breast.

“Stan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut the fuck up. And do as your told.” Your hand went to his neck, squeezing the sides and your other hand went to his crotch. You started massaging his cock outside his pants, giving the erection a slight squeeze. Stans head lulled to the side but you straightened it, gripping his jaw.

“Stay still.” You whispered in his ear.

You went to lower yourself down, before his hand went to your hair. He maneuvered you over his lap, his arm pinning you down over his knee and you gasped in shock.

“I think you have me mistaken for some little boy who likes to be dominated. But I think you’re mistaken, baby.” His voice was soft and commanding.

But his hold on your hair tightened, pulling your head back, your breasts arched above his knee and his other hand settled on your ass.

“You know, I want you to count. Count to 10. And if you don’t, I’ll stop touching you. And I don’t think you don’t want that.” Your breath shuddered as his hand came down. Hard.

“Ah! Fuck!” You cried out at the stinging. But you obeyed him, any urge to take control was futile. “One.” You winced as he continued spanking, but you counted to ten.

“Good girl.” He leaned to whisper that in your ear before releasing you. You went to the ground on your hands and knees, shocked at the sudden turn of events. Your head whipped to him as he stood up.

“You have two options, Y/n.” He started, resting his hands on his hips. “You can walk away right now, like I said. Or,” He trailed towards you, leaning down to brush his thumb across your lips. “you’ll do whatever I want.”

You were speechless as his eyes narrowed hungrily. “You seem nervous, Y/n. What’s wrong? You’re not used to someone wanting you?” He repeated your words and you inhaled sharply.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” You whispered, looking up at him with your mouth watering. Stan nodded. A new, dangerous confidence building inside him.

He aimed his head towards the stairs. “Go upstairs. On your hands and knees.” He ordered softly.

It took more time, going up the steps on your hands and knees but you made it to the hallway with Stan behind you. He remained silent. “We’re not going to my bedroom. We’re going to the spare room.” You turned and saw him holding a key.

He walked ahead of you, his posture stiff as he turned the key to a door at the end of the hall. “One last chance to back out.”

You shook your head. “I want to see.” You insisted. He sighed and opened the door.

“Oh my god.” You whispered.

It was red. A red room. Dozens of tools hung from the walls, fake candles flickered around and in the center was a large bed that had black bedding but underneath were crimson LED lights. A black chandelier hung on the ceiling, but what caught your attention were whips, riding crops and robes that adorned the wall.

“This is…my secret. This is why most people run from me.” Stan sighed and clicked his tongue.

“Your secret? That you’re super kinky and you have some sort of sex dungeon?” You realized the hypocrisy of your statement, given you were on all fours but you couldn’t help it.

Stan chuckled and put the key in his pocket. “I’m waiting.” He said to you and you entered the room, crawling forward.

“Stop.” You did and you sat on your heels and Stan approached you. Holding rope. Surprisingly, despite the situation, he still seemed somewhat unconfident.

“Stan,” You began as he secured the rope around your wrists. “I want to do this.” He paused and looked down at you. “I want you to use me. Anyway you want.” You pleaded.

Stan grounded his teeth before he yanked you from the floor, crashing his lips to yours in a fevered kiss of tongue and teeth. Blood quirked from your bottom lip as he tugged it with his teeth, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed your hands above your head, holding you in place. Your center pooled as he ripped himself away.

“I want you to spread your legs.” Stan growled. His hand flexing.

You separated your knees, your underwear sticking to your pussy as he licked his lips. Stans fingers circled around your pants, pulling them down slowly and your underwear. Your pussy glistens and he flicked his pointer finger, inside the wet walls before trailing your clit.

You trembled as he inserted it into his mouth, his eyes drifted shut and he hummed to himself. “You taste so sweet.” He groaned before leaning down.

He trailed kisses along your inner thighs, close but not close enough. His tongue moved along your pussy but pulled away last second.

“Fuck, Stan. Please don’t tease me.” He launched himself up, his fingers plunging inside you. You threw your head back, as he went knuckle deep and sank into you.

“You don’t order me around. Do you understand?” He pumped his fingers inside you, and your back arched as he went deeper, impossibly deeper.

“Yes-yes I understand.” You squeaked.

“Yes what?” His thumb grazed your clit before pulling away.

“I-I don’t know.” You whimpered. Stan removed his fingers and shoved them into your mouth.

You tasted yourself on his digits and you tried to fight against the ropes but they were tight. “What did you call me that first night? I want you to say it.”

You realized what he meant.

“Daddy?” You questioned. He nodded.

“Now, ask me. What do you want from me? You can ask me. Nice and proper.”

“Daddy…please. Taste me. I need it. Please?” You begged.

Your begging killed him and he forced your legs apart. “Moan nice and loud for me okay?” Stan whispered as he laid on his stomach, lifting your thighs over his shoulders.

He laid his tongue flat against your pussy, kitten licking your clit repeatedly, before diving down to your entrance, then bringing it back to the top. You moaned, loudly in your chest and throat before you turned your head to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as Stan increased the pressure on your clit.

You shuddered as his fingers swiped against your entrance before he slid two fingers inside, pumping slowly as he slowed his pace on your sensitive bud, torturing you as you neared your climax, before he would change paces again.

“Daddy-please don’t tease me-“ You inhaled and Stan chuckled against you.

“I don’t think you should tell me what to do right now, baby. Do you? Not when I have you splayed out like this.” He licked a long, stripe against you before he pulled away. Keeping his fingers deep inside you.

Sweat gathered on your forehead as your back arched into his hand. His free one settled underneath your midsection as he hovered over you.

“You’re being so good, taking my fingers like this baby. You’re being such a good girl, right now.” His mouth went to your neck, he peppered kisses along your skin. “Such a pretty little slut. Doing whatever I want.” You were about to burst.

“Let go for me, it’s okay. And then I’m gonna fuck you like an animal.” Stan reached over to the drawer, selecting a plastic wrapped condom. Sliding off his pants and boxers, he wrapped his dick inside the protection. His hand locked on your shoulder as he turned you over on your stomach, forcing your tied hands on the bed with your ass up.

His hand pushed down on your head, “Spread your legs. Nice and wide for me, okay?” He ordered softly and you listened, breathing heavily as he pressed himself inside you.

You buried your head down, exhaling long and hard as he thrusted inside you, shifting to hold your hips in place as he moved deep and hard into you. “Fuck.” He moaned as your walls clenched around him, welcoming him in the deepest parts of you.

You stayed like that for several seconds, him moving roughly against you with his hard cock pounding you, animalisticly like he promised. He gripped you in place as you tried to move your hips to create friction. He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “I’m gonna play with your pussy now, okay? Can you hold out a little longer for me? You’re doing a good job, princess.” He groaned.

You couldn’t hardly see straight as his fingers circled around your clit as he continued thrusting, you weren’t going to last much longer. This was better than anything you had, better than your own pathetic fingers.

“I’m gonna-daddy I’m gonna come-“ You managed before your release came over you with a powerful rush. You stilled and then felt Stan stop moving as he came, releasing into the confines of the condom.

He pulled out of you, releasing your fullness and he collapsed next you. You turned over on your back, panting heavily as he started untying your hands. As they were free, you stretched out your arms over your head as he laid next to you.

You both stayed silent, breathless and then you moved over, leaning your cheek onto his chest. He glanced down at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Was that submissive enough for you?” Stan asked and you chuckled with a blush.

Soon after, you ended up falling asleep.

The next morning, you woke up late, still naked on the bed. When you sat up, you noticed a note next to you.

“Had to leave. Hopefully…I see you soon on your next work night. Maybe we can make this a regular occurrence…S.B”

You bit your lip. It was the most passionate night you’d ever had. But he had to leave. Without establishing the next step.

As you left the house, you turned one last time before making your mind up. Next time? He would be the one tied up and helpless.

Taglist. @spill-the-t @icannot3 @howtobesasha @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @demxnicprxncess @evanptrss @randodummy tagging @frankenkyle19 and @scene-and-dandylover because they requested it tonight

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writing-good-vibes · 8 months

Text

another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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darlingdaisyfarm · 10 days

Text

୨ৎ hot summer night (Ford x fem!reader)

minors DNI

In the sweltering heat of a summer night at the Mystery Shack, you find yourself unable to sleep and stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water. Little did you expect Ford Pines to find you here like this, almost naked. God knows Ford tried. tags: sexual themes, nsfw, smut, kitchen sex, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, dirty talk, loud sex, from sub to dom ford, teasing

You look at the ceiling, the night silence is broken only by the buzzing of an old fan in the corner of the room. It’s unbearable, the heat. Kicking off the thin sheet that was sticking to your legs, you sigh. The twins are probably passed out, you think and prove of that is Stan's snoring could practically be heard through the walls. But you. . . you're damn awake, too hot to even think about sleep.

Screw it.

You slip out of bed, stretching your sore limbs. The old wooden floor creaks under your bare feet as you pad quietly down the stairs in nothing but a bralette with a tiny bow and your panties. Who the hell was going to see you at this hour, anyway?

The kitchen is dark when you step inside, and the thought of cold water is enough to make your mouth water. You take a glass and fill it from the tap, feeling the coolness under your fingers, which is a little relief in this damn heat. You take a sip, sighing, your body relaxing for the first time all night.

Then you hear it.

A shuffle. Someone’s steps.

You freeze, heart pounding. Fuck. You spin around, nearly dropping the glass, only to see him standing there. Ford. Great, just your luck. Stanford Pines, of all people, is here in the middle of the night. And you? Half-naked, barely anything covering you.

You feel your cheeks flush immediately, not just from the heat anymore. "Shit, Ford!" your voice barely above a whisper. "i thought everyone was asleep."

He looks as surprised as you feel, adjusting his glasses, eyes sweeping over you before darting away just as quickly. "I- I couldn’t sleep," he mutters, looking anywhere but at you, his normally calm voice sounded awkward at this moment. "too much on my mind, I guess."

You nod, trying to act casual, but the air between you becomes tense.

Ford fiddles with the rim of his glasses, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I didn't mean to interrupt,” he says, but his gaze just keeps returning to you, despite his obvious efforts to look away. What a beautiful sight in front of him. His eyes flick to the window, to the floor, but you’ve already caught him glancing at you more than once. It’s quick, like he's really ashamed, like the sight of you in just your bralette and panties is something he shouldn’t see, but can’t help but stare at.

His reaction to you isn’t what you expected, he’s usually so composed, so wrapped up in his own world of journals and interdimensional science that it’s like nothing could shake him. But here he is, standing in front of you, and he can’t take his eyes off your body. You stand here awkwardly. Ford clears his throat, his eyes flicker up to your face, but then you catch him, a quick glance downward, right at your bralette, to your nipples.

You shift uncomfortably, tugging the hem of your bralette down instinctively. “I just. . . needed some water,” you’re trying to break the tension

Stanford nods, but you catch him again, his gaze darting lower, this time lingering on the curve of your thighs, your panties hugging your hips. His Adam’s apple twitches as he swallows hard. You watch him adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his hands tremble slightly.

He’s trying not to look, but it’s obvious. He’s failing.

And the worst part? He’s clearly beating himself up over it. “I. . . shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles as his brows furrow, deep lines cutting across his forehead, like he's angry with himself. You don’t say anything, and that only seems to make it worse for him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm- damn it. I shouldn't-“

You know you should say something, anything, to break the tension, but instead, you just stand there, watching him struggle with his own thoughts. His eyes open again, and this time when he looks at you, it’s different. There’s heat in them, something he clearly doesn’t want to feel. His eyes trace the lines of your legs, lingering a little too long on your bare thighs, and then up again to your bralette.

"Ford. . .” you start, but he cuts you off with a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "God, what the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t-“ he rubs a hand over his face, turning away slightly, like he’s trying to physically stop himself from looking at you. "I’m too old for this. For you."

You turn away from him, feeling the need to focus on something, anything, other than the heat pooling between your legs what makes you unbelievably wet and horny. The sound of water pouring into your glass is the only thing filling the silence now, but you can feel his eyes on you. Even with your back turned, you can feel him watching.

As you stretch up to place the glass back on the shelf, your shirt rides up just a little, exposing more of your lower back and hips. You don’t do it on purpose, but it’s like the air gets hotter, the tension between you two almost suffocating. And now it’s not because of summer. You’re not oblivious. You know he’s still looking.

Behind you, Ford’s breath hitches, and you hear him shift awkwardly. His mind’s at war with itself. He knows he should turn away. No. . . He must walk away, run away. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze locks onto the soft curve of your waist, your hips, the way the fabric of your panties hugs your skin. It feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but he can’t help himself. His eyes drift lower, following the delicate lines of your legs.

Stanford feels a stirring deep in his gut, an unwelcome, insistent pressure building. "Shit. . .” he mutters under his breath, barely audible.

Blood runs to his cock, he’s getting hard and he knows he shouldn’t be. Every logical part of him is screaming to stop, to tear his eyes away, but his body and feelings betrays him. He watches as you stretch again, the hem of your bralette lifting, exposing more skin, and feels how his pants are getting tighter.

You catch the faint curse slip from his mouth, and for a moment, you pause, gripping the glass tighter in your hand. You don’t need to turn around to know what’s going on behind you, but there’s something that makes you curious. Part of you wants to tease him, just a little more, but you stay quiet, pretending not to notice.

“Ford, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, fine.”

“You sure? You seem. . . tense,” you say, dragging the word out just enough to make it obvious you know exactly what’s going on.

He clears his throat, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s clearly struggling to keep it together. “I’m- I don’t know what’s wrong with me, goddamn it, I’m sorry.”

Your lips curl into a small smile. "You don’t have to be," you say, turning around fully now, your eyes locking with his. "I mean, it's not like I’m exactly dressed for modesty right now."

Ford runs a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a weak, "You should. . . put on something more."

Your eyes linger on him, the way his chest rising and falling as he’s breathing heavily. You know you should feel awkward, embarrassed even, but you don’t. Instead, you feel something else. You take a step closer, just enough to close the gap between the two of you, and watch as his eyes widen. And then you do it — you slowly lower the strap of your bralette, letting it slip off your shoulder. His gaze follows the movement instantly, like he's mesmerized, completely unable to look away.

Ford’s eyes glued to the skin you’re revealing. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you can see the conflict all over his face. His body betrays him, his hands twitch at his sides, like he's fighting the urge to reach out, to touch you. He swallows hard, trying desperately to keep control, but it’s so obvious he’s struggling. His pants are unbearably fucking tight now, a bulge straining against the fabric, and it hurts him so bad.

"Jesus Christ. . . what are you doing? you-you shouldn't-“

You tilt your head slightly, letting your fingers toy with the other strap, but you don’t lower it, yet. “What?” you ask innocently, your tone light, teasing. “does it bother you, Ford?”

He’s quiet again for a second as he tries to force out words. “This- this isn’t right.”

You take another step closer, almost closing the space between you. His breathing is ragged now, his gaze hungry despite the guilt clouding his features. “I don’t know, Ford,” you murmur. “you don’t look like you want me to stop.”

He groans softly, his body tensing at your words, his dick is going to explode.

Ford’s eyes dart around the room, searching for some kind of escape from the situation. His hands grip the edge of the counter as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “No, we can’t. . . not here-“

You tilt your head, feigning confusion, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Not here? oh, then in your room maybe?”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, no, I mean- fuck,” he stammers, trying to find the right words but only fucking up more. “This is- this is insane,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m supposed to be- damn it, I’m old enough to know better.”

“Ford,” you say softly, “you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. I mean, it’s just us here. What’s the harm?”

“I shouldn’t be doing this. You- you have no idea how much I want to. . .”

You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “But you do want to, don’t you?”

Ford’s eyes snap open. “Yes, but- but we can’t”

You cut him off, gently pressing your body against his, your breath warm against his ear. “Why not?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin. “tell me what’s stopping you.”

He groans, his control slipping even further. “God, this is such a bad idea, im so fucking attracted to you, but this- it’s not right.”

“Isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips grazing his ear as your hand lays on his bulge, slowly and gently caressing it. His cock twitches.

You press closer, your words a siren’s call, tempting him, he swears he’ll just cum right in his pants only from your voice, he doesn’t even wanna think what’ll happen if he’ll fuck you.

“Tell me, Ford. Did you think about how your fingers would feel in me? what you’d do with them?”

He’s fucking surprised, what a fast girl you are, straight to the point. “I- shit,” he hisses. “i imagined them everywhere. Touching you, your, oh my god, your-“

You interrupt him, leaning in closer, your breath warm against his lips. “You don’t have to imagine anymore,” you whisper, your hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his pants. “i want you to touch me. Everywhere you’ve dreamed about.” you whisper as you smile against his ear, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his pants, brushing against his skin. “You want me to tell you where I want your fingers? i want them. . . right here.” you press your fingers locked with his to the inner of your thigh.

His breath catches and he fucking groans again. “Jesus. this is- this is so fucked up, but I can’t, I can’t stop.”

Slowly you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes follow every movement. It can’t be happening. “do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You look up at him with a smirk, your fingers teasingly brushing against the bulge in his pants. “I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” you murmur, “now, let me show you just how much I want you.”

You brush your fingers gently over his clothed hardness, feeling the way he twitches under your touch. Ford’s hands tremble, his control slipping away with every touch, every word. He looks down at you, his face a mix of need and regret, his body aching with desire as you take the final step, his cock springs free, already hard and throbbing and you look up at him with a wicked grin. Then you bring your lips to his tip, giving it a light kiss. His fingers grip the counter for support, knuckles white against the wood.

“Fuck,” Stanford mutters, bucking his hips. “Please, just don’t stop. . .” Ford’s eyes roll back, his head falling back against the cabinet as he struggles to keep himself together. He’s lost in the sensations, his entire focus on the way you’re swirling your tongue around his tip. “Mmm-! yeah, yeah. . .”

You take him into your mouth, slowly, your tongue curling around him in a way that makes him gasp. Fuck, he tastes so good and you enjoy the way he shudders and moans above you. His hands find their way to your head, all six fingers tangled in your hair as he tries to hold onto something, anything, to keep from losing himself completely.

“Aghnn, s-such a good girl-“

You hear his praise and take him deeper, your head moving with a rhythm, drawing out every groan and sigh from him. As you suck his cock, you can feel the ache between your thighs growing more intense. The more you please him, the more he moans, the more horny you get, fuck, you’re getting awfully wet from this. And you find your free hand slipping between your legs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

Ford’s groans fill the room, so desperate as he holds your head and fucks your mouth, but when his eyes flick down and see your hand moving between your legs, something snaps inside him. “Shit,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth. “I- oh god, baby. . .” Ford’s gaze locks onto you, and his breath hitches at the sight of you rubbing your clit while you continue to take him in your mouth. He can see how you’re trying to satisfy yourself. His hands move to your shoulders, gripping tightly. “I can see how much you need it. I can’t just let you do this alone.”

You pull away, your face flushed and your breaths ragged. You look up at him, all turned on and hot.

“Let me take care of you, babygirl.” last thing you hear him say before he lifts you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as he turns you around and bends you over the counter. You gasp in surprise, your heart racing as the cool surface of the counter presses against your skin. Your panties are pushed aside as he positions himself behind you, his cock, all wet from your saliva, rubs sweetly between your folds.

“Ford-!” you start, but he cuts you off with a slap on your ass.

“You’ve been teasing me all night. Now it’s my turn.”

You shudder at his words, your body arching into his touch. He leans over you, leaving kisses on your neck and groaning in it as his hands trail down your thighs until he reaches the waistband of your panties. His fingers hook under the fabric, pulling them down just enough to expose your dripping cunt, and his hand settles between your thighs, rubbing you slowly.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, sweetie,” he mutters. His fingers begin to work in slow circles on your aching clit, rubbing you.

You moan, pressing your hips back against him, desperate for more. “Ford-! ple-please. . .

He chuckles darkly, his fingers collecting your slick. “Oh, you want more, do you? After everything you did to me, now you’re begging?” his other hand slides up your back, pushing your body further against the counter, making your ass raise up even more as he teases you mercilessly. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

“Fuck- fuck yes!” you gasp, your body trembling under his control. His fingers work faster, the slick sounds of him rubbing you filling the kitchen as the pressure builds inside you. You’re panting, your body reacting to every touch, every stroke, your mind crazy . “I’m ready,” you whine. “I need you, Ford- pleasee!”

He pulls your panties down fully and steps back just enough to take in the sight of you bent over the counter for him, your legs spread, ass up, your skin flushed.

“God, you’re perfect, dollface,” he murmurs, more to himself, his hand running over the curve of your ass before landing a sharp slap that makes you gasp and press back against him.

You feel his hands steadying you as he rubs his length against your soaked pussy. Every inch of him is hard, and you can feel how badly he needs you. “You’re going to take me now,” he whispers against your ear. “all of me.”

Without waiting for an answer, he thrusts his hips forward, sliding into you with a groan. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you wanted. Your soft walls welcome him as you clench around his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grits out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you back against him with every thrust. “I’m not gonna last long like this.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure is so intense that it leaves you breathless. All you can do is moan and gasp his name as he fucks you from behind, holding your waist.

His pace quickens, the sound of your bodies moving together filling the air, so fucking dirty. “Say my name,” Ford demands.

“Fo-Ford-!” you gasp, barely able to get the word out as he thrusts deeper, his dick feels so good inside you.

Ford’s body is pressed tightly against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s afraid to let go. Each thrust is followed by his groans and your moan. He fucks you so hard, holding your body like he’s trying to make up for lost time, time he spent denying what he wanted.

“F-fuuuck,” he groans as he can’t believe this is happening. “I’ve thought about this, about fucking you for so long. Needed to fill this little pretty cunt. . .”

He grips you tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. You’re both lost in it, his rhythm hard and fast, but there’s something in the way he moves—like he’s still in disbelief, like he thinks this is going to disappear.

Ford’s thrusts grow more erratic and you can feel him losing himself in you completely. His breath is hot and jagged against the back of your neck as he pounds into you, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room, slap after slap. You can hear him muttering under his breath, words slipping out like he can’t control them anymore.

“Fuck, this is unreal. . . so good to be true,” he groans, each thrust deeper, harder than the last. His grip on your hips tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of how desperately he needs this, needs you. “Can’t stop- won’t stop.” you moan his name, your body arching to meet him and your eyes roll back.

Stanford’s hand slides to your front, his fingers rubbing roughly against your clit as he fucks you harder, deeper. That drives you mad, his thumb circling your needy clit, the pleasure builds in you fast, almost too fast, and you can barely breathe as he thrusts into your cunt. You’re both a mess, the heat between you making it impossible to think straight.

Then, through the haze, his voice comes out, rough and desperate. "No, no, baby. . . need to see your face," Ford moans. "Need you to fucking see who’s filling up this tight pussy right now."

Before you can react, he pulls out and spins you around, pressing you against the counter. You barely have time to catch your breath before he grabs your thighs, spreading you wide and slams back into you. The force makes you gasp and his hands are everywhere, fingers gripping your skin, going to your breasts, cupping them, pinching your hard nipples through your bralette like he can’t get enough.

“I need to see your face, sweetie.” he leans closer to you. “need you to see who’s fucking you senseless right now, yeah?” you close your eyes tight being a moaning and whining mess under him. His eyes lock onto yours and he fucks into you much rougher. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he commands. “Look at me and see who’s fucking filling up this sweet cunt right now.” his hips snapping forward again, hitting deep- so deep you swear you can feel him pressing against your cervix. "im gonna fucking lose it, baby, look at me, look at me while I wreck this cunt."

You can barely focus, your vision blurred by the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You’re too breathless to respond, your body trembling from his pace, but you lock eyes with him. Ford’s movements are so rough, each thrust deeper and harder as he drives you both toward the edge. “You’re taking it so well,” he growls. “So fucking tight. Goddamn, such a good girl for me.” as he continues to pound into you.

“Yes, Ford-!” you gasp. His words, his cock - it’s all too much. “im- im yours. All yours, ahhhn” you swear feel his cock dragging against every inch of you, his thickness stretching you so wide it’s obscene. Your head spins as his filthy words push you even closer to the edge, make you even more wet when you thought it’s impossible. “F-Ford, fuuck, i can’t-!” you whine, but before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing roughly yet so fucking nicely over your clit and you arch into him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he warns you as he can’t help but watch your pussy take his cock. “I’m gonna cum inside you, fill you up completely.” the pressure building in your core as he pounds into you, harder, deeper, relentless

Your own pleasure peaks, and you cry out, your body trembling as you cum hard, body convulsing as you finally break, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You cry out his name, your thighs trembling as he keeps fucking you through it, his hips slamming into yours. You’re shaking in his hands, your little pussy so tight around him, milking him, every drop. Ford follows, his orgasm hitting him as he thrusts into you, filling you completely.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Ford’s grip tightens and with one final, rough thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, groaning loudly as he spills into you. “Fuckkk, yes,” his voice breaking. “s-such a good girl, huh,” his body trembles against yours, his cock pulsing inside as he empties himself, filling you completely. you gasp again as you feel his cum filling you up and you just stay still, enjoying this feeling as he claims you, burying his seed deep inside your womb.

The intensity of his orgasm leaves him breathless, his body shuddering as he holds you tightly. He stands still against you, his legs trembling, both of you panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. “Jesus fucking christ. . .” Ford mumbles, looking at you. “I can’t believe I fucking did that." he looks down, watching as his release drips from between your legs. What a sight.

The room falls into a sudden, heavy silence, save for the sound of your breathing as you both come down from the intense high. Ford’s hands are still gripping your hips, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His forehead rests against yours. The realization of what just happened slowly starts to settle in.

Your eyes meet, wide and tired. Neither of you speaks for a moment, still shocked what just happened. Ford’s gaze flickers, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lips parted as though he wants to say something but can’t find the words.

Ford swallows hard, his grip loosening just slightly. “I. . . I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think- damn, I didn’t mean for it to-“ he brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead.

The realization of how loud everything had been creeps in: the slamming of bodies, the gasps, the moans. Shit! Your face heats up as the thought clicks in your mind.

“Do you think. . .?” you begin, glancing nervously toward the hallway.

Ford’s eyes widen. He seems to understand what's going on at the same time as you do.

Then, from the hallway outside the kitchen, there’s the unmistakable creak of floorboards, followed by a very familiar voice.

“For the love of god, could you two have picked a quieter fuckin’ spot?”

#gravity falls smut #ford pines smut #ford pines x reader #minors dni #x reader #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #stanford pines x reader

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simpforboys · 1 year

Note

Just an idea but olo'eyktan!neteyam and preggo!reader but it's that one scene from ice age 3 where the dads like panicking and running around thinking that the baby's coming but its was actually a kick. (LOOK IK THE MOVIES ABOUT 12 FOOT FURRY ELEPHANTS BUT DON"T JUDGE ME ITS A 3AM THOUGHT) (link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfxmRsWGg_0)

-🍄

i think this is my sign to rewatch the ice age movies (i'm an ice age stan)

right here

olo'eyktan!neteyam x fem!pregnant!reader

summary: when a false rumor gets back to neteyam, it leads the anxious mighty warrior to panic

warnings: fluff, pre-dad!neteyam, swearing, neteyam is my fav boy ever

aged up characters

the raging wind blew neteyam's long braids as he rode his ikran, soldiers following behind him as they made their weekly hunt.

neteyam's ears flicked from the wind, his loincloth and feathered vest blowing gracefully.

neteyam called out to his warriors, circling in on an animal pack.

however, as they were beginning to land their ikrans, a call came in through the ear piece the group were wearing.

"neteyam- it is y/n. she has gone into labor."

neteyam's body froze once he heard lo'ak speak. his heart was pounding as the men and women looked at their leader, waiting for his word.

"continue with the kill."

his command was quick as he took off, ikran roaring as the banshee felt neteyam's nerves. he hadn't noticed his shaky hands and pounding heartbeat, his focus on getting home to you.

he landed quickly in the high camp, surprised there aren't more people panicking.

"where is y/n?" neteyam asked one of the people. the girl just shrugged back in response, watching neteyam take off.

"neteyam!" lo'ak caught sight of his brother. they both ran towards each other.

"where is she?" neteyam rushed.

"over here, c'mon, bro!" lo'ak lead his brother.

"i'm having a baby!" he announced to the clan, excitement taking over his long body.

people whooped and cheered, the women and children cocking their head at the olo'eyktan.

there had been no sign from eywa of you having your child, being only eight months along.

"code blue! code blue!" lo'ak ran with his brother, their large feet padding against the stone ground.

"or pink if it's a girl." neteyam happily slapped his brother's shoulder.

the tent was getting closer, neteyam pausing to grab some fresh water for you. his excitement was turning into nerves as lo'ak looked at his hesitant brother.

"what is wrong?" he asked, confusedly walking up to neteyam.

"it's finally happening... and i-"

"what is finally happening?"

your gentle voice scared both the brothers, your bulging belly appearing from the tent.

"my love- aren't you supposed to be in labor?"

neteyam's giant hand placed itself on your belly, feeling your baby kick against his palm.

"what?" you asked, your brow bow furrowing at your mate.

"oh my eywa- lo'ak i told you! it was just a kick!"

neteyam's ears fell flat as he looked between you and his little brother, the future uncle now blushing from embarrassment.

you rolled your eyes at lo'ak, feeling neteyam's hand travel down near the band of your loincloth. he stood on his knees, face by your tummy as he kissed your belly button.

"you gave sempu (daddy) a scare, baby."

"mhm." you playfully rolled your eyes, softly punching lo'ak in the arm.

"hey!"

the surrounding clan members whom where excited to welcome their future olo'eyktan or tsahik frowned from lo'ak's false rumor.

"that is the second false alarm this month!" a child pouted.

"alright people, nothing to see here." lo'ak pushed away the crowd as they went back to their tasks.

"darling, i know you are nervous. i am too, but that was a bit too much." you cupped neteyam's face as he stood now, slightly towering over you.

your pregnancy made your height shrink slightly, going from 8'8 to 8'6. neteyam kissed your forehead, standing at 9'4.

"i am sorry, i am just scared."

you rubbed your belly as your made pulled you into his embrace.

"i have seen you with tuk and the children, ma neteyam. you are going to be an amazing father."

neteyam reassuringly smiled.

"i will be right here with you every step of the way."

and once the baby did come, neteyam was calmer than ever (on the outside, not internally).

this was so cute omg

#neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam #simpforboys #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully smut #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam oneshot #olo’eyktan neteyam #neteyam x you #avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar the way of water #pregnant!reader #avatar neteyam

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am3ricanh0rrorwh0re · 3 months

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Try || Stan Bowes

stan bowes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, angst i guess? oral (m receiving), stan just being a jackass

"i've been waitin' all day for this," stan laughed, swaying to the music on the radio as he set down his last shot of whiskey. you chuckle, turning the music up a little louder as you cup his face. you press your lips against his, sighing as he grabbed you by your waist and dragged you to the bedroom.

you were the mistress. the other woman to a man in an unhappy marriage. and that didn't bother you one bit. Stan Bowes here had originally been a paying customer to you and the rest of your hooker friends. he stole you for a few minutes, for about $95, but in turn decided it would be okay to take your heart as well. not that you cared. you hadn't felt the loving touch of a man in years. it was always slaps on the ass, names like 'slut' or 'whore'. but not from stan. hell, this dude bought you a whole ass apartment for when he wanted to come and see you.

you pushed him onto the bed as the two of you got undressed. hm.. he wasn't hard...what was up with that? he usually was every time he saw you. you kissed down his abs, running your fingers gently down his length. you always hated soft dicks. you heard him sigh and looked up to see him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"what's wrong?" you ask softly. "too much to drink?..or is the thrill losing its edge?" you continue as you pin his arms out to his sides, hovering over him. he looks up at you, a smitten look on his face as he practically pants.

"no," he pants, shaking one of your hands off. "its the whiskey, i swear..its the whiskey" he said, rubbing one of his eyes. you scoff, rolling your eyes as you start to kiss down his abs again, laying your head on his chest. stan sighed, running his fingers through your hair.

"no..no, no, baby, c'mon, don't stop...its the booze, its the booze. just keep tryin'.." he practically begged, urging you back down to his length. you sigh reluctantly, moving back down his torso again. you kiss down his length.

"just try," he said softly, knotting his fingers in your hair as you starting sucking again. in, out, in, out, you felt him going in and out of your throat constantly, but it wasn't hardening up. why the fuck couldn't he get it up today?

"c'mon...c'mon, baby.." stan whispered, trying to take some deep breaths as he pushed your head down softly and pulled it back up. he cupped one side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. as you got more and more frustrated at his lack of an erection, you pulled back, hovering over him once more.

"what's the matter with you today? it's not the goddamn booze," you say softly, your voice having a hint of sharpness in it.

"baby, what's wrong? stop being crazy, you're drunk," stan said, his voice sounding affectionate. he was always very good at distracting from the real problem.

"no, tell me the goddamn truth, stan. do i just-- do i not have it anymore? whatever it is you crave?" you ask, scoffing.

"baby, no, you do, i promise...its the booze, i told you.." stan virtually whimpered.

"one last shot," you sigh, pushing your head back down, your lips enveloped his tip, circling softly around the small hole. you tasted the pre cum, felt his hands in your hair, pushing your head down. after what felt like ages of half-assed sucking, he finally got it to harden up.

"praise the universe," you sigh after pulling away. stan chuckled, kissing your forehead before you continue.

he reached his hands into your hair, his fingers intertwining in what was virtually silk, in his opinion. you felt him in your mouth, although at this point you couldn’t tell what was your saliva or his precum.

“c’mon, baby..” stan panted, practically holding your head down.

he massaged your scalp gently, kneading the flesh and hair with his fingers. you let out soft gags as you bobbed your head up and down, wet noises gurgling in your throat. you coughed around his length, breathing through your nose as he continued massaging your scalp with one hand, the other rubbing your back to soothe you and your gag reflexes.

“you’re okay, you’re okay…just— aagh- just a little longer—

tags: @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @slutforgarlogan @nickrhodeslittledarling @lacucarachapisser

it makes me sad that my fics have been flopping recently yall. are people just not interested anymore 😭

#stan bowes #evan peters #pose #stan bowes x reader #stan bowes imagines #stan bowes oneshots #stan bowes x you

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marchsfreakshow · 7 days

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Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

(aka Evans characters that don't fit anywhere)

Warren Lipka

Lovingly Obsessed 18+

Cherries 18+

Dinner Blues

Oral fixation imagine

Eating out imagine 18+

Colin Zabel

Just There

Missing Dates

Dad!Colin imagine

Stan Bowes

Stars

More to come (Potienally)

#evan peters #masterlist #warren lipka #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka imagines #American animals #colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #mare of easttown #stan bowes #stan bowes x reader #stan bowes x you #stan bowes imagine #pose #x reader

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doll3tt33 · 10 months

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Stan picking you (his boss’s daughter) up from a party 𝜗𝜚

The greeting message:

I had this idea in mind for awhile now and I finally got around to making another Stan bot for this scenario, even though I should def focus on making bots for other characters lmaooo.

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evanchantingpeters · 5 months

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How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind.

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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trueangel420 · 2 months

Text

Ghostface!Kai / wc 1856/ “do you have a boyfriend?”

You leaned on the counter, the popcorn in the microwave clacking as you absentmindedly watched the horror movie playing on the TV in the living room. It was another monotonous Friday night, and you found yourself babysitting as usual. This time, it was an odd little boy you called Ozzy, who was obsessed with clowns—so much so that he had the creepiest clown figure in his room. You tried to ignore it; after all, he was only ten, and watching him didn't require much effort. Ozzy was self-sufficient, only needing you to answer his endless curious questions and read him a bedtime story. Now, you were the only one awake, feeling increasingly bored. The microwave dinged, and you turned to retrieve the popcorn, pouring it into a large bowl. Before you could grab a handful of the buttery snack, the landline rang, its noise obnoxious and loud. You shuffled over to answer it, bringing the receiver to your ear with a small breath. You expected Ally or even Ivy, but instead, you were met with a static-like noise that made you wince and pull the phone away slightly. "Hello?" you said softly into the receiver.

You waited for a moment, growing increasingly impatient before hearing a dark chuckle with an almost robotic tone. "Did you know today was Halloween?" the voice said, making your eyebrows furrow. Something told you not to entertain this, but your boredom got the better of you. "No, I didn't," you replied truthfully. You had been so busy babysitting Ozzy this week that you hadn't even glanced at your calendar.

"Do you like scary movies?" the voice continued. You nibbled at your bottom lip, leaning on the kitchen counter. "No, stranger, I don't really like scary movies," you answered, prompting him to tsk tsk at you. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked. You let out a small scoff, laughing a bit as you glanced at your nails. "Why? You wanna be my boyfriend?" you replied in an amused tone.

"You shouldn't tease me like that, doll," he hummed into the phone for a moment before letting out a breath. "Especially dressed in that little tank and that pink skirt of yours... is that a bow?" Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively looked down at your outfit. How could he know what you were wearing? You scanned the room, your eyes darting to the windows and the dark corners, but saw nothing unusual.

"Who is this?" you demanded, struggling to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

He chuckled, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "You know me," he said, his voice clear and unsettling. Without thinking, you blurted out, "You're a fucking creep" Immediately, you regretted it, covering your mouth. That was a bad choice. The voice on the other end of the line let out a slow, sinister laugh. The voice oozed with a dark, mocking tone. "You know, I've always liked how feisty you are," he said, the words dripping with a twisted sort of charm. "It's one of the things that makes you so... intriguing."

You tried to steady your breathing, struggling to keep calm. "What do you want from me?" you asked, forcing your voice to stay even. "Oh, it's not what I want," he purred. "It's what you're going to give me. I'm just looking forward to our little game, doll. I have a feeling you're going to be a lot of fun."

You nibbled on your bottom lip, looking outside the window as you leaned forward on the sink. "Wha-what do you mean?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The voice on the other end took on a teasing, ghostly edge. "Oh, come on, don't play coy with me," he said, his tone dripping with flirtatious menace. "You know exactly what I mean…I can't wait to see that fear in your eyes up close, especially when i stick my knife in you."

"What?" Your voice trembled a bit, trying to grasp the full implication of his words. The line went silent for a moment, and then you heard a low, almost inaudible whisper.

"Turn around."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you quickly turned, your eyes scanning the dimly lit kitchen. The shadows seemed to stretch and morph, playing tricks on your mind. There was no one there, but the feeling of being watched was overwhelming.

"See you soon, doll," the voice said, just before the line went dead. You dropped the phone, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Panic surged through you, and you knew you had to get out of the house. Now. You sprinted upstairs, heart pounding, and burst into Ozzy's room. The boy was still sleeping, oblivious to the danger. You shuffled over to him, shaking his shoulder urgently.

"Ozzy, wake up," you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. "We need to go, now."He stirred, groggy and confused. "What's going on?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "No time to explain," you said, your voice trembling. "I need you to hide, okay? Don't come out." You grabbed the phone out of your pocket and dialed the police, your hands shaking as you pressed the numbers.

As the phone rang, you guided Ozzy towards the closet, helping him crawl inside. "Stay quiet," you urged, closing the door just as the call connected.

"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked.

"Someone's in my house," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Please, send help quickly." You stayed on the line with the 911 operator, your heart racing as you gave them your address. They assured you that officers were on their way. Every second felt like an eternity as you crouched by the closet, keeping an eye on the door.

Within minutes, you heard the sound of sirens approaching, followed by a firm knock on the front door. You hurried downstairs, throwing open the door to find two police officers standing there. "Are you the one who called?" one of them asked, his eyes scanning the area. You nodded, your voice shaky. "Yes, please come in. I think someone's in the house." The officers entered, quickly spreading out to search every room. You stayed close behind one of them, your heart pounding with every step. They checked the kitchen, the living room, the basement—every possible hiding place.

After what felt like an eternity, they regrouped in the living room. "We've checked the entire house," one officer said, his expression serious. "There's no one here." "But I heard him," you insisted, frustration and fear mixing in your voice. "He described my clothes. He knew what i was wearing."

The officers exchanged glances. "Sometimes, these kinds of calls can be pranks or misunderstandings," the second officer said gently. "But we'll file a report and increase patrols in the area. If you hear anything else or see anyone suspicious, don't hesitate to call us again." You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering dread. As the officers left, you went back upstairs to get Ozzy. Opening the closet door, you found him curled up, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Is it safe now?" he asked, his voice small.You nodded, trying to smile reassuringly. "Yeah, it's safe. The police checked everything. I'm going to call your moms, okay?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. When Ally and Ivy arrived home, you filled them in on what had happened—well, not everything, but enough to avoid making Ally overly anxious. Afterward, you retreated back to your house. Ally offered to drive you, and you accepted. Luckily, you didn't live far from Ally's place, and she made sure to watch you unlock your door.

"Try to be safe, hun," she called out as she started her car.

You shuffled inside, locking the door behind you and turning on the lights. Letting out a sigh of relief, you crawled onto the couch and turned on a random channel, trying to distract yourself. Your mind raced with a mix of fear and unease, especially since the voice on the phone had sounded faintly familiar.

The next morning, you found yourself nibbling on a piece of bacon, your nerves still on edge. You'd called off work, unable to shake the lingering anxiety from the previous night. Every sound in the house seemed amplified, and you couldn't help but keep glancing toward the door, half-expecting it to bust open. You grabbed your phone, wrestling with the urge to call your neighbor and ask if he'd heard anything about what happened. Your fingers hovered over his contact before you finally pressed it, your heart pounding as the phone rang.

Kai answered groggily, as if he'd just woken up. "Yeah?" he mumbled, shifting around on the other end. "Did you hear?" you asked quickly, not wasting any time. Kai was your neighbor and, despite his intense demeanor, he'd been kind to you when you moved in, even helping with the boxes. "About last night? Yeah, I heard," he said, clearing his throat. He glanced out his window, his gaze landing directly on you. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry," you murmured into the phone. He let out a fake sigh. "Yeah, you did, doll. But it's okay." His face held a smirk, knowing all too well how clueless and trusting you could be. "It was so scary, Kai. I was babysitting and—"

"And you got a call, and they threatened you?" he interrupted, finishing your sentence. You nibbled on your bottom lip, letting out a breath."Yeah, how did you know that?" He let out a small laugh. "The news, doll." The suspicion you'd been feeling faded as you rolled your eyes at yourself for even doubting Kai. "Right, yeah. I even called off work, so I'll be stuck in my house all day," you murmured. "Maybe I'll swing by and make sure you're safe," he said softly, his eyes still fixed on you from his window as you nibbled on the bacon.

"That would be great. You're so sweet, Kai," you replied, your cheeks flushing. Maybe you liked Kai more than you let on, but it seemed he was always there for you when you needed him.

After the call ended, and you settled into your couch, curling up in your favorite nightgown. You turned on some trashy reality TV, letting the mindless drama provide a distraction from the lingering tension of the night before. As the skies started to darken, you continued watching the show, debating whether to turn on the lights. You felt too lazy to get up and didn't want to miss any of the unfolding drama on TV. The phone rang, jolting you from your daze. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced at the screen, half-expecting it to be Kai checking in. You reached for it, trying to steady your nerves. The phone displayed an unknown number. You hesitated for a moment before answering, your anxiety spiking. "Hello?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Missed me?"

#kai anderson imagine #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #tate langdon #kai anderson drabble #ahs cult #american horror story #stan bowes #evan peters #ghostface!kai #ghostface #fem reader #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x y/n

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