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gutsby · 7 months

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Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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kaijuborn · 8 months

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cozy, slightly spooky games for Halloween season!

Night in the Woods - an adventure game focused on exploration, story, and character, featuring dozens of characters to meet and lots to do across a lush, vibrant world.

Haunt the House: Terrortown - haunt your way through a town in the dead of night! Possess objects with your soul, to scare people away from a museum, a hospital, a theatre and a cruise ship.

Oxenfree - a supernatural thriller about a group of friends who unwittingly open a ghostly rift. You are Alex, and you’ve just brought your new stepbrother Jonas to an overnight island party gone horribly wrong.

Sunless Sea - LOSE YOUR MIND. EAT YOUR CREW. DIE. Take the helm of your steamship and set sail for the unknown!

Beacon Pines - a cute and creepy adventure set within a mysterious book. Sneak out late, make new friends, uncover hidden truths, and collect words that will change the course of fate!

Costume Quest - in this charming role-playing game, choose your hero and trick-or-treat through beautiful environments full of humor and story.

Death's door - reaping souls of the dead and punching a clock might get monotonous, but it's honest work for a Crow.

Hand of Fate - in a cabin at the end of the world, the game of life and death is played. Draw your cards, play your hand, and discover your fate.

LIMBO - uncertain of his sister's fate, a boy enters LIMBO.

Wytchwood - a crafting adventure game set in a land of gothic fables and fairytales. As the old witch of the woods, explore a strange countryside, collect magic ingredients, brew sorcerous spells, and pass judgement upon a capricious cast of characters.

Cult of the Lamb - start your own cult in a land of false prophets, venturing out into diverse and mysterious regions to build a loyal community of woodland Followers and spread your Word to become the one true cult.

#game recs #game recommendations #indie games #spooky games #ramblings

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urfavoritewriter · 4 months

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Ghostface Meal, Part I

Content: Male Vore, Oral Vore, Male Prey, M/M, Digestion, Belching, Belly Worship, Male Observer, Male Worship

A commission for someone here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Chris moved confidently through the Halloween party, the dim lights casting eerie shadows across the room as the muffled beats of music filled the air. The atmosphere was electric with excitement, and the room was filled with an eclectic mix of costumes. There were vampires, witches, zombies, and even a few superheroes scattered among the crowd.

As he navigated through the sea of people, Chris's eyes scanned the room, taking in the various costumes with interest. He was clad in a sexy Ghostface outfit, the iconic mask perched atop his head, while his sculpted physique was proudly on display, shirtless and adorned with fake blood splatters. His muscles rippled beneath the dim lights, drawing admiring glances from party-goers around him.

Amidst the throng of costumes, one particular outfit caught Chris's attention. A man dressed in a casual cream-colored outfit with sprinkles scattered across it stood out from the crowd. The man's attire resembled a giant ice cream cone, complete with a cherry on top. Chris's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he approached the man, his gaze lingering on the tempting sight before him– He was hungry, and he saw a guy who made him even hungrier.

Without hesitation, Chris made his way over to the man, his steps purposeful as he closed the distance between them. The man turned to face him, a curious expression crossing his features as he took in Chris's imposing figure. Chris towered over him, his muscular frame casting a shadow over the smaller man as he loomed above him.

"Hey there," Chris greeted him with a charming smile, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in closer. "Couldn’t help but find you delicious in that costume." He teased, intending it as a joke.

The man's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected attention, but a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded in response. "Not the first guy here who wanted to eat me," he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Chris grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he extended a hand towards the man. "I'm Chris," he introduced himself, his tone friendly and inviting. "What's your name?"

The man hesitated for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. "I'm Alex," he replied softly, his voice barely audible over the music.

"Nice to meet you, Alex," Chris said warmly, his smile widening as he gestured towards the nearby bedroom. "Shall we?"

Alex cheeks flushed with color at the suggestion, but he nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation as he followed Chris towards the secluded room.

Chris and Alex slipped into the dimly lit bedroom, the muffled sounds of the party fading into the background as the door closed behind them. Chris's eyes gleamed with hunger as he gazed at Alex, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

"Ready for a little fun?" Chris teased, his voice laced with excitement as he stepped closer to Alex.

Alex nodded nervously, his heart pounding in his chest as he met Chris's gaze. "Yeah, let's do it," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a swift motion, Chris lunged forward, his powerful arms wrapping around Alex as he pulled him close. Alex let out a muffled cry of surprise as he was engulfed by Chris's massive form, his body disappearing into the depths of Chris's voracious maw.

The room fell silent as Chris swallowed Alex whole, his throat rippling with each gulp as he devoured his prey. Within moments, Chris emerged from the bedroom, his belly distended and bulging with his latest meal. Drool dripped from the bottom of his mask as he passed by a row of photos on the wall, his memory jogged by the sight of the party's host.

"Huh, guess that was the host," Chris muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he continued on his way.

Chris swaggered through the crowded party, his shirtless torso adorned only with the iconic Ghostface mask. His muscles rippled beneath the dim lights as he made his way upstairs, the weight of his recent meal sloshing around in his distended belly.

"Fucking stuffed," Chris muttered to himself, shaking his belly slightly to keep his prey squirming inside. He shot a sly grin back at Alex, who was undoubtedly feeling the effects of his journey through Chris's digestive tract.

As Chris reached the top of the stairs, he ducked into a random room and flopped down onto the bed, his belly protruding heavily as he settled in. He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes flicking over to the door as it creaked open a few minutes later.

A petite man entered the room, his eyes red and puffy from tears as he wiped them with the back of his hand. Chris's gaze softened as he watched the stranger, sensing his distress; The man was wearing a velvet, devil costume that accentuated his petite figure in an attractive manner.

"You okay, man?" Chris asked, his voice surprisingly gentle as he gestured for the man to come closer. The petite man leaned against the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," the man replied, his voice trembling slightly as he glanced up at Chris.

Chris extended a hand towards the petite man. "I'm Chris," he introduced himself with a charming grin.

The man hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to shake Chris's hand. "I-I'm Robin," he stammered, his cheeks flushing as he met Chris's gaze.

Chris chuckled warmly, gesturing for Robin to come closer. "Nice to meet you, Robin," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Why don't you come over here and give my belly a rub?"

Robin's blush deepened at the suggestion, but he complied, stepping closer to the bed and tentatively placing his hand on Chris's distended stomach. Chris let out a proud smack, causing his belly to jiggle slightly as he unleashed a monstrous belch.

Robin couldn't help but giggle at the display, finding himself drawn to Chris's confident demeanor and undeniable charm; He thought Chris was fucking hot.

Chris lounged back on the bed, watching with amusement as Robin curiously rubbed his distended belly. "You know," Chris began, flashing Robin a mischievous grin, "I always joked about wanting to eat the entire party, but now I really wanna fucking do it."

Robin chuckled nervously at the comment, his cheeks flushing pink. "Well, why don’t you go and surprise everyone then?" he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Chris let out a hearty laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hey, it's not every day you get to fulfill a fantasy, right?" he quipped, winking at Robin as he playfully patted his belly. "And hey, I wouldn't mind letting you rub an even bigger belly next time."

Robin's blush deepened at the suggestion, but he couldn't help but smile at Chris's playful demeanor. "You're crazy," he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

As the conversation continued, Robin couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and warmth in Chris's presence. After a moment of comfortable silence, Robin shyly looked up at Chris, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Um, Chris?" he began tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chris turned to face Robin, his expression curious. "What is it, Robin?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Robin hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak. "Um, do you think you could...uh, belch again?" he asked, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Chris chuckled softly at the request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure thing, Robin," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he bounced his pecs, thumped his chest, and let out a monstrous belch that echoed through the room.

Robin couldn't help but giggle at the impressive display, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "Thanks, Chris," he said sincerely, his eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Chris flashed Robin a charming grin, giving him a thumbs up as he got up from the bed and began to strut out of the room. "No problem, Robin," he replied casually. "Just doing my part to make you feel better."

Turning around at the doorway, Chris glanced back at Robin with a playful smirk. "Stay put, okay?" he said with a wink. "I'll be back for you, with an even bigger belly for you to be a good boy to." And with that, he disappeared out of sight, leaving Robin alone in the room once again.

#m/m #male vore #male pred #digestion #male prey #gay vore #fatal #male observer #belching #belly worship

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oleander-nin · 8 months

Text

Horrortober Day 11- Mind Games(Yandere Rise Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: mention of alcohol and drugs, manipulation, hinted emotional abuse, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 1693

Summary: You broke up with Leo, but he's not ready to give you up.

Your eyes drift across the sea of bodies, stepping back and to the side to avoid touching any of them. Coming here was a mistake, you felt. Sure, you wanted to get your mind off your recent breakup, but this was not the way to go. It was too loud, too bright, and everyone was already high or drunk and the many masks and faces of monsters and witches wasn’t helping. You grimace at the strong smell of the fruit punch in your hand, knowing it had been spiked at some point. If you found a garbage can, you’d throw it away before mistakenly taking a sip. You didn’t want to risk anything. You still had to drive home after all.

You search through the costumed college students for the friends that had insisted you come, promising it would be worth it and you’d have fun. You snort at the thought. It had barely been twenty minutes, and you already had a headache.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, catching your attention. Slipping away from the mass of bodies and giving up on the search, you pull out the vibrating device. Text after text was rolling though, different numbers flashing on your screen. You frown as you read the name rolling though, Leo’s pleading and angry texts blowing up your phone.

You unlock it and go to the conversation between the two of you, blocking his number once more. You were getting your number changed tomorrow, so dealing with him would only be another day. You were free of him, free of the pain and stress he caused, the sense of paranoia and fear he brought on. No more fights, no more of his obsession, no more being a prisoner to your own boyfriend.

You turn off your phone and slip it back into your pocket, doubt and guilt bubbling in your stomach. Part of you felt like you were over reacting. You knew he loved you, it was clear. But that love had gotten too much and you were starting to feel the danger brewing under his skin. The way he looked at you was once filled with love, his dark eyes swimming in happiness and hope for the future, but now they only carried the cold touch of possession and want. He still made his jokes, still treated you like you were his favorite thing in the world, but now it was… Dangerous. Like if you said the wrong thing or did something he didn’t like he would explode. He was a ticking time bomb you forgot how to defuse, and you didn’t want to be there when it finally set off.

You still loved him, the pang in your heart reminding you with every thought that flooded your brain, but being with him has gotten to be too dangerous, your mental health draining. He had started to cost you your friends, started to make you paranoid. You didn’t know how long it would go on before either of you snapped.

You gaze back into the crowd, bright lights attacking your view and making your vision swim. A group of ghosts floated by, the sheets over their heads billowing as they walked. It entertained you to see such a thing, your own costume having about the same effort as theirs. With the party so last minute, you hadn’t had time for a complex costume. You simply woke up this morning and put on a black shirt and sweats, topping the look off with a cat eared headband and three lines on either cheek with a sharpie.

Green skin in the crowd catches your eyes, your heart rate jumping as you tense. You search through the mass of people until you find what you thought you had seen. The ogre’s costume was a duller green than the one that caught your eyes, but you assumed a yellow or green light had been shining rather than the red covering them now. You lean against the wall, swirling your spiked drink. You were really thinking about taking a sip now, at least to get your mind to ease up. This was a party, you were supposed to be having fun, not thinking of Leo.

Pushing off the wall, you merge into the crowd once more to continue looking for your friends. You turn your head as you walk, looking out for the Sesame Street characters your friends said they came as. While scanning faces and masks, your eyes meet familiar ones, the deep onyx oh his eyes shining against the light. Your breath leaves you as you take in the green skin and pink crescents, his mask a stark contrast on his face.

You blink and he’s gone, a costumed student in his wake. You stare at the spot where you saw Leo, your hands shaking slightly. Did you accidentally take a sip of your drink? Were you losing it? In your confused haze, you let the crowd slowly push you back to the edges, your mind still reeling with the sights of your now ex. He couldn’t be here, he wouldn’t even know of this party. You stare at the floor, finally putting your drink down on a small table without a care. It wasn’t like you were going to pick it back up.

The feeling of three-fingered hands drifting over your waist makes your blood run cold and your muscles tense, one settling and the other crossing over to hang onto your wrist. His mouth presses against your ear, his voice a soft whisper full of unsaid fury. “Never thought you’d be in a party like this.”

You stand dumbly in his arms, unable to speak nor move. You gape at the wall in front of you, his strong hands guiding you towards the corner of the room and away from prying eyes. He seemed content with your silence, a smug smile on his face when you glanced back at him. You couldn’t help but feel terrified. Why was he here?

“Dance with me,” He purrs, his eyes flashing dangerously everytime you try to pull away. He never turns you around, keeping your back pressed against his chest. It was surreal, and your brain was stuck in an infinite loop of panic. You couldn’t help but feel unsafe, even in the arms of someone you once, and still do, loved. “It’s the least you could do after the fit you’ve been throwing. I can’t believe you’ve been ignoring me.”

You let him sway you both back and forth with the music, your voice stuck in your throat as you try to not pull away from instinct. His nails dig into your skin, a deadly smile on his lips. He hums along with the music, keeping your body pulled flush with his while he moves. He seemed content despite the circumstances, his hands holding you steady and close.

“Why are you here?” You ask quietly, your heart beating faster than it ever has before. The music was too loud still, the bass drumming the tune in your skull. You felt tired all of a sudden, the safety your brain had found in Leo over the years overriding the clear danger he presented. You wanted to pull away, to run and never look back, but his grip is firm. You weren’t getting out of this one.

“Because I’m your boyfriend, and I got worried when you didn’t answer my texts and calls.” He exaggerates a pout, jutting out his bottom lip as he looks down at you. He had grown over the years you knew him, yet still managed to keep the same jokester personality he claimed was the face of his brothers team. You scowl at his words, finally being knocked out of whatever trance you were in. You try to pull away, thrashing slightly in his grip.

“We broke up.” You remind, glaring at the mutant blending in with the fellow partygoers. Leo drops his pout, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his grip and moves you both closer to the wall.

“No, we didn’t.” He says with the certainty of a monarch sending a traitor to death. “You got upset, and said something you shouldn’t have. But we’re not breaking up.”

"Leonardo Hamato, let me go this instant." You demand, pushing harshly against his chest with your one free hand. His words pushed your brain into overdrive, the fear hitting you like bricks. You needed to leave. Now.

Leo smiles deviously, his eyes flashing as he dares you to do more. "Pulling out my full name now, are we? Looks like someone's getting serious."

His tone is no more than a deep purr, smoothing over the anger and hatred held in his heart. He wanted to slam you against the wall and choke you until you passed out, his steady hands twitching with greed. You were small compared to him now, his size nearly doubling since he was a teen. Not to mention the muscle mass he gained and the reflexes and experience he now had. You were but a lamb to the slaughter, and it was Leo who was the deciding factor on whether you made it out alive. Leo's smile widens. You were so lucky he loved you.

He squeezes your wrist and you can feel the bones start to strain under the pressure, threatening to crack. Your knees buckle at the pain, a small cry leaving your lips. He had never really hurt you before, and especially not while he was grinning. A small kiss is pressed to the back of your head, a quick squeeze being given as a warning.

“Come home with me now, quietly and on your own, or I snap both your legs and kill everyone here.”

He says this lightly, as if it was a small joke between friends. You feel tears well in your eyes. There was no way he wasn’t serious, the glint in his eye showing just how badly he wanted to show you what he was willing to do. You let out a sob, and crumple in his arms. There was nothing you could do but comply.

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

Text

Trick or Treat

Miguel x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None, other than Miguel being a bit thirsty (haha pun intended you'll see what I mean)

A/N: Thanks to @obi-mom-kenobi for the fic idea for spooky day™! (I'm sorry the plot got off track, though asdfghjkl)

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

He should have figured something like this would have happened.

He should have figured that he would do this.

Goddamn Deadpool.

Of course he caused a ruckus in one of the other universes, just to hop to this one to avoid Miguel, taunting him the whole time.

And naturally, it had to be fucking Halloween of all nights in this universe.

Among the Michaels, Jasons, goblins, ghouls, and witches and werewolves there were superheroes.

Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and half a thousand Spider-Mans.

This universe didn't have things like superheroes, not for real. All of that was Hollywood magic for the silver screen; the colorful fevered dream of a comic book artists.

He spent four hours trudging through the crowds, shouldering past drunkards and women dressed in far too little to be classified as clothing...

He finally spotted a Deadpool. The costume was very accurate, right down to the texture of the suit and how many pouches were on his belt.

But he was wrong. It was just some... Guy. Dressed in a "screen-accurate" cosplay.

But it was around the fifth hour (and twelve, terrified innocent Deadpool cosplayers later) that he got so frustrated he actually decided to take a break.

"Puta madre it's like Mardis Gras..." He hissed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He'd long abandoned wearing his mask, wanting complete unobstructed range of his sense of smell and hearing. Neither of which have been particularly helpful with the smell of vomit, liquor, perfume and sweets littering the air.

"Wow! Buddy, you look like you need a good time!" A man dressed in some macabre clown suit said to him. When Miguel fixed his crimson eyes on him the man seemed to deflate, the gulp in his throat audible as his posture shrunk and he struggled to keep his voice collected at the imposing sight of the larger man.

He pointed at the door to a bar that seemed full to bursting, crowds chattering, and a group of obnoxious women clucking like drunken hens as they left, shouting rather inappropriate things at Miguel as they walked by.

Miguel sighed and decided to just say fuck it, one drink or so. Deadpool probably already hopped to another dimension already and this could be a pointless waste of time.

The patrons parted around him like the sea for Moses, too intimidated by the man who towered over them to stay in his way as he made it over to the bar.

The seat to the barstool creaked under his weight as he sat down, burying his face in his hand

This is the last time he'd ever chase down a Deadpool. Next time, he would pass it off to Ben or hell, even Hobie...

"Wow! Miguel, huh?" A bubbly voice giggled out.

His head shot up as she mentioned his name, and hi blinked at her.

Uncharacteristically, he felt his mouth go dry at her costume.

The black dress was cut down to the top of her underbust corset, revealing delicious amounts of her marshmallowy soft-looking cleavage. Honestly, if the woman sneezed, she'd probably spill right out of it...

Her hair was... Off. A kind of black beehive atop her head, sharp makeup accentuating her cheekbones and eyes. Bright, crimson lips smiled at him, dimples in her cheeks.

She wasn't rail thin like the other women who had come onto him all night, her body was soft, and squeezable; warm and looking as though he would get decent handfuls of her sweet soft rolls in his hands--

"Wow! You even look like him, too!" You giggle.

His mouth opened and he blinked.

"Ah... El... Elvira. Right?" He tried. He remembered Peter showing him that movie one of the times he'd visited him and MJ's place.

"Ah! Ding ding, my dear!" You grin, tapping your nose. "Some people keep saying I'm Morticia Addams."

"Ah..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.

Even in your heels, you had a feeling that if this man was standing on his own two feet he'd tower over you.

"Wow! You really do look like Miguel!" You gasped, your ruby red lips parted in a sweet "O".

They looked so soft, just like the rest of you--

"Well! What's your name, big guy?" You ask, your long, wispy (maybe fake?) eyelashes batted at him.

"Uh... Miguel." He said stiffly.

You giggle again, a sound he was quickly focusing on, a sound he found he liked amongst the hustle of the other patrons in the bar.

"Pff, no, silly. Your name."

"...Miguel."

Your smile falters a bit as you blink up at him.

"Oh. Oh! Oh gosh, that's your actual name? I'm sorry!" You laugh awkwardly.

He decided that maybe, just maybe... His night wouldn't be spoiled after all.

"Well, I don't think it's bad enough to apologize for..." He said, flashing a smile, his fangs poking out just past his lips.

You giggle a bit girlishly. "Oh! Oh, that's not what I meant... But I mean! At least you're... Well, uh. In character! You got the looks, the height, the name!"

Miguel shakes his head with a deep chuckle.

"I suppose I do." He fixed you with a soft gaze as his fingers tapped the bar top. "What's your name?"

You grinned at him and tapped the name plate on your breast, drawing his gaze downward to your cleavage.

He felt his face heat up a bit as his eyes lingered on the soft swells, until his brain finally processed the name written.

He repeated it back to you, his voice just barely shaky.

"Yep! Don't wear it out!" You wink, leaning on the bar.

Once again, your cleavage on full display, just begging for him to--

"So, no offense but you look absolutely miffed 'bout something." You chuckle.

"You... Could say that." He struggled, clearing his throat. "I was... Supposed to meet somebody but they... Bailed."

"Oh, god, I haaaaaate that for you, bud." You say, leaning back with a click of your tongue. Your long acrylic nails tap on the laminated bar.

"So! What'll it be?"

"Uh... I don't have any money on me. Sorry."

"Hah!" You point up at the whiteboard sign above the tap.

'Those in costume -- First two drinks are free!'

He blinked up at the sign. "That's... Generous."

"Yeah, my boss is big on community. And I'm the one who told him that promising two free drinks instead of one will draw our competitor's clientele away." You wink.

"That's awfully... poachy of you." Miguel smirked.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Capitalism is capitalism and you gotta make a buck somehow. And besides! Halloween and other holidays are the best nights for tips!"

You looked back at him with a twinkle in your eye.

"So! What'll it be mister Spider-Man?"

"...Hell. The strongest drink you have."

"Ooooh! Risk taker! I like it." You laugh in a sing-song as you turn to start gathering what you needed to mix his cocktail.

The gaze of all the male patrons were drawn to you when you started shaking, humming to yourself as you did, looking at the list of things for the drink you were making, not paying mind to the prying eyes ogling your breasts. Miguel was, abashedly one of them. But he stopped himself once he realized what he was doing, the others?

He wanted to strangle all of them. Especially the three men next to him who were making bets on who would convince you to go to their car with them.

They clammed up when Miguel leaned in when you turned away.

"Keep staring at her like that, and I will gouge out your eyes, pendejos." He growled, flexing his talons in the face of one of the men for emphasis.

They all freaked out and ran, not wanting to piss off some 6 plus foot whatever guy with what looked like retractable blades on his fingers, and glowing red eyes.

When you turned back around, the cherry red drink topped with strawberries and a black cherry in hand, you grinned at him, and saw the money on the counter.

"Oh!" You hum, handing Miguel his drink and placing the money in their proper places.

"So... What's in this?" Miguel asked, sniffing the drink lightly.

You smile again at him, a cheeky glimmer in your eyes. "That would be telling, sweetheart. But I will say I put some sour grenadine in it."

"Hah. Fair enough." Miguel said, taking a sip of his drink.

The burning in his throat caught him off-guard. As did the heavy taste of the alcohol, that was quickly snuffed by the fruity flavor as he swallowed it down.

"It's... Good."

"Your cringe says you weren't expecting the punch." You smirk, crossing your arms and pushing up your soft breasts.

"It's... Surprising." He conceded, plucking the black cherry up out of the top of the glass.

He decided to make a bit of a show as he curled his tongue around the cherry, bringing it into his mouth and snapping off the stem, chewing lightly.

Miguel couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks flush a little bit and you busy yourself with wiping down glasses.

Maybe tonight wasn't such a bust, after all.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #halloween fic #halloween 2023 #happy halloweeeeeeen

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southerngothicchic · 7 months

Text

King Steve's Halloween Party

18+

You looked yourself over in your vanity mirror. Your eyes traveled from your teased hair, to the sparkly eye makeup that enhanced your eyes, then to your costume. It might have been kind of basic to go as a witch, but yours was a sluttier version of the classic Halloween costume.

Your tight, black dress exposed just the right amount of cleavage, but it was shorter than you were comfortable with, so you wore matching fishnets underneath. You usually didn't wear such revealing clothes, but it was Halloween and you also wanted to show off a bit for the host of the party you were going to later.

You smiled as you thought of him, and how he personally invited you to his party, last week during English. He had chosen the desk behind yours at the start of the semester and struck up a conversation with you almost immediately. You tried to resist his charms, as his reputation definitely preceeded him.

You proved an easy target, though, as you soon looked forward to seeing him every day and his perfect hair and plump lips.

You wondered when he'd finally ask you out, and that moment came when he invited you to this party.

The honking of a car's horn snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly slipped into your black heels and grabbed your witch's hat and purse, before hurrying out of your room.

Excited screams could be heard from your friends as you approached the car.

"Damn, you really went all out for Steve, didn't you?" Your best friend Lauren teased, as you slid into the passenger seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you deflected, while she narrowed her eyes.

"Come on, we all know you have the hots for him," your other friend Nikki interjected, from the backseat.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked, turning to look at her.

"Yes!" The two girls said in unison, before laughing.

You blushed, while also laughing. You couldn't help your crush on him, but if it was that noticeable to them, then he probably picked up on it, as well.

A nervous pit formed in your stomach during the drive to Steve's house. You wondered what he would be dressed as, if he decided to dress up at all. You knew he'd look good no matter what he wore. He was so effortlessly handsome, it bordered on annoying.

After Lauren parked down the street, you all walked the short distance to his house. She was dressed as Alice from Alice in Wonderland, while Nikki was dressed as an equally slutty vampire.

Lauren could sense your anxiety and nudged your arm. "Don't worry, he's gonna love your costume."

"That's what I'm nervous about," you confessed. "What if he likes it too much?"

"Isn't that what you were going for?"

"Yeah, just...I don't know."

"Relax," Nikki said, draping her arms over yours and Lauren's shoulders. "You already know he likes you, so hopefully he'll get so turned on, he'll want to fuck your brains out."

You laughed at her crudeness. "That was oddly comforting, thanks."

"That's what I am, oddly comforting, " she also laughed.

The three of you finally reached Steve's doorstep and the thumping music could already be heard. After stepping inside his house, you were instantly greeted with the sounds of drunken cheers and overwhelmingly loud music.

"Come on, let's go find the kitchen and get some drinks," Nikki loudly suggested, leading both you and Lauren further into the house and into the sea of people.

You couldn't believe you were actually in Steve's house, at one of his famous parties. Your anxiety then crept back in at the thought of seeing him. You tried to calm yourself the best you could, as you followed your friends into the kitchen.

There were several makeshift coolers sat out on the counters with different drinks to choose from. As you were chatting away to Lauren, you heard a familiar voice greet you.

"Ladies, I'm glad you all could make it."

The three of you turned around and were met with the sight of Steve dressed in a white bedsheet. It was tied over one shoulder, revealing his tan skin. You averted your eyes from the tiny glimpse of chest hair, as the sight of it made you feel faint.

"And what are you supposed to be? Caesar?" Nikki asked, mockingly.

"Its a toga, from Animal House, obviously," he replied, matter of factly.

"Oh, obviously," she nodded, trying not to laugh.

He rolled his eyes before focusing his attention on you.

"You...look gorgeous," he softly complimented, stepping closer to you.

"Yeah? You like it?" You asked, smiling up at him.

"I do, it's very sexy," he said, sliding his arm around your waist.

You hoped he couldn't see how he was making you blush.

"Why don't we go see who all's here," Nikki interjected, taking you by the arm and gently pulling you away from Steve.

"I'll see you later," you called to him, over your shoulder.

"Count on it," he smiled.

Before you could say anything, Nikki explained, "You can't seem too desperate, you need to make him want you."

"Judging from how he was looking at me, I think he already does," you challenged, as you both reentered the living room.

"Well, yeah, but you need to play hard to get for a little while. Make him beg for it."

"You are just a fountain of knowledge tonight," Lauren then intervened.

"Let's just say I have experience with guys like him," Nikki defended. "I know how they think."

You remained at your friend's sides for most of the night, much to Steve's dismay. You caught him in your periphery staring at you, but he would always look away whenever you glanced towards him.

At one point, you had become separated from Lauren and Nikki and found yourself talking to two football players.

Steve noticed and started making his way over to you.

"Sorry guys," he apologized, once he appeared at your side. "Can I steal her away for a minute?"

He then slipped his hand into yours and led you away from them. Your skin tingled at the feeling of him holding your hand.

He sat on an unoccupied couch, in the den, and pulled you down, onto his lap.

"You shouldn't talk to those meat heads for too long, you'll lose braincells," he warned, wrapping his arms around you.

"Thanks for rescuing me then, I guess," you laughed, draping your arm around his neck.

"Well, one of my duties as a good host is to make sure all my guests are looked after," he smiled.

"Oh..." you sighed, as he pressed a wet kiss against your cheek.

His hand rested on your thigh and lightly squeezed as he continued kissing you.

"So, like, you weren't jealous or anything?" You shakily asked.

"What if I was?" He softly asked, turning your head so you could meet his gaze. "I wanted the prettiest girl at the party for myself, and got tired of waiting."

His lips brushed yours, teasingly, before he kissed you. His lips felt amazing, tasting like a combination of beer, tobacco and mint. You didn't care, though, because it was Steve Harrington.

His hand moved up your thigh, under your dress. His fingertips teased you through your tights, making you whimper. You closed your legs and trapped his hand there.

"So shy," he breathed, against your lips. "You don't like it when I put my hand up your dress out in the open, like this? Where anyone could see?"

You shook your head.

"Good. Let's go somewhere more private, then."

"Ok," you quietly agreed.

"You're going to have to open your legs first," he smirked.

You felt a familiar heat rising to your cheeks when you released his hand from between your thighs.

He then led you upstairs, to his room. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, drowning out everything else around you.

Once he opened his bedroom door, you walked in first and went to sit at the foot of his bed. He couldn't keep the smug look off his face as he closed and locked the door.

You slipped your heels off and leaned back on your hands. He turned and crossed the short distance to you.

He also took off his shoes, before standing in front of you. You looked up at him, as his hand cupped your chin. He could feel himself getting even harder as his eyes traveled your face, then your chest.

"You look so fuckin' hot tonight," he breathed. "I bet you wore this just to drive me crazy, didn't you?"

You shrugged.

He licked his lips. "I know you did, angel."

He placed his knee beside you, on the bed, and leaned forward, causing you to lay back. He hovered over you, eyes darkening with lust. His hands then pinned your wrists to the bed as he leaned in close.

He ghosted his lips over yours, before kissing you deeply. A slight whimper escaped your lips when he licked his way into your mouth. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to touch him in some way, and he knew it.

His lips then trailed kisses to your jaw, then to a spot just underneath it. He lightly sucked on your skin, leaving a small purple bruise, in his wake, as he continued his descent down your neck.

You writhed underneath him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache between them. You felt him smile against your shoulder, before kissing it.

He glanced up at you, satisfied smirk on his lips as he kissed his way across the tops of your breasts. He then released his hold on your wrists and your hands immediately went to his hair.

He moaned at the feeling of your fingers running through his sculpted locks.

"I fucking love this dress, but I want it off," he breathily demanded, looking up at you.

"If my costume's coming off, yours is too, Harrington," you replied, your eyes challenging his.

"Fair enough," he grinned.

"You'll have to unzip me," you added, as he sat up.

"With pleasure, angel."

You also sat up and turned, revealing the back of your dress.

He happily grasped the zipper and slowly unzipped it. His breath caught in his throat when he saw your bare back. His lips were soon pressed to the back of your neck, then to all the newly exposed skin.

You gasped slightly at the feeling of his wet lips on your skin. He placed his large hands on your shoulders and pushed the straps of your dress, off your arms.

"God, you're so beautiful," he lamented, as he kissed across your back.

Your dress was pushed down to your waist as his hands made their way to your bare breasts. You sighed his name as he cupped them and lightly squeezed.

Before he let himself get too carried away, he leaned in close to your ear and instructed you to lie back.

You turned your head to the side, capturing his lips in a kiss. Your hand snaked back into his hair, as you held him in place.

He eagerly reciprocated your kiss, with soft moans leaving his lips. He ended it sooner than either of you would've liked, but he really wanted to feel your skin pressed against his.

He stood up, hastily untying the knot at his shoulder. You did as he instructed and lay back on the bed, watching him. He was having trouble getting it untied, but the sheet eventually pooled at his feet. He was left in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts that made your mouth water.

Seeing his muscular thighs made you even hotter for him. Everything about him like this was appealing.

He crawled back onto the bed and hovered over you again.

"I've fantasized about having you here, like this," he confessed, leaning in close. "All those times in class, all I could think about was getting you into my bed-" He paused to kiss you. "-And making you scream my name all night long."

You whimpered at his confession, lightheaded at the thought of King Steve actually fantasizing about being with you.

He then kissed you hungrily, rendering you thoughtless. It held such intensity that you felt yourself melting into the mattress.

"Don't tell me you haven't had similar thoughts about me..." he panted, pulling away only to catch his breath.

"I have," you answered, meekly. "I wondered what it would be like to feel your lips on mine..."

"And did it live up to your expectations?"

You nodded. "They felt even better than I ever could've imagined."

"Imagine how good they'll feel when I kiss other parts of your gorgeous body," he breathed, against your lips, before kissing you again.

"You've also fantasized about that too, right? Having my head between your thighs, my tongue lapping at you..." he continued, in between kisses. "And my fingers fucking your pretty pussy..."

"Y-Yes," you sighed, already unraveling at his words.

"I knew it," he grinned. "I knew you pretended to be all innocent at school, when you were secretly dying for me to fuck you."

"To be fair, that's what, like, half the girls at school also want..."

"Yeah, but I don't care about them. You're the girl I've had a crush on all year, so..." he then revealed.

You smiled. "You really like me that much?"

"Obviously," he also smiled, making you giggle.

You pulled him into a kiss and each of your smiles faded as it became more lustful.

His hand glided down your body, stopping at the waist of your tights. He slowly moved lower and cupped you through the sheer fabric. You gasped into the kiss, making him smile.

He then raised his hand back up and slipped it underneath both your tights and panties. He ran his finger over you and lowly moaned.

"Fuck, angel, you're so wet for me..." he breathed. "I didn't know you liked me that much..."

"Sure you didn't," you remarked, as he gave you a look.

"Yeah, you're right. I already knew you had it bad for me," he continued, before kissing you again. "You practically had hearts in your eyes every time you looked at me."

"You're cute, what can I say?"

"I think there's more to it than that, angel," he replied, sitting up and sliding down your body to take off your tights.

You raised your hips to help him pull them down your thighs. Once he had them off your legs, he held your leg and pressed kisses from your ankle to your inner thigh.

You whined and tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was much stronger and only tightened his hold on you.

He smirked up at you, his face now between your legs. He pressed a kiss to your panties, moaning into it.

"I want to make all your fantasies come true tonight, angel," he softly began, his voice dripping with lust. "Starting with this."

He quickly pulled the dainty fabric down your thighs and tossed them somewhere in the room.

You felt the sudden urge to close your legs, feeling too vulnerable, too exposed to him. He placed his hands on your thighs, spreading and keeping them open.

"Still so shy..." he mused. "You don't need to be shy around me, honey, I only want to make you feel good."

He looked up at you, eyes darkening with desire.

"I'll stop if you want me to, ok?" He said, his thumbs lightly caressing your skin.

You nodded.

He smiled before parting your lips with his tongue. You gasped his name as he just lapped at you, to start.

"Oh angel, you're even sweeter than I imagined..." he panted. "Like the best fucking dessert."

His words sent your head spinning along with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

He licked and sucked on you, while your hips bucked underneath him. Your back arched and your fingers clawed at his scalp as he ate you out.

You whimpered when he slipped two fingers inside you, and began pumping them vigorously. He was starting to lose his hold on your legs, as you kept writhing and squirming.

"S-Steve..." you breathed, when you felt him add a third finger.

"I need to get you ready for me, honey. I don't want it to hurt when I fuck you," he breathlessly explained.

You threw your head back, against his pillows and alternated between moaning curses and his name.

He glanced up at you, then slowly withdrew his fingers. He sat up, on his knees and placed them between his lips.

You watched, dazed, as his eyes rolled back as he sucked on them.

"Christ, honey, you have the sweetest pussy," he smiled, crawling over your body.

His face hovered above yours, just gazing at you and how pretty you looked, already a mess from his affections.

"How're you feeling?" He then quietly asked, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"Pretty good," you smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Good, but I wanna make you feel even better," he replied, against your lips.

He then kissed you slowly, passionately. He let his body fully engulf yours, by pressing more of his body weight against you. He fully overwhelmed your senses now, with the scent of his cologne and hairspray, almost suffocating you. It was like he was too close, yet still not close enough.

"You ready for me, angel?" He softly asked, his lips brushing your cheek.

"Yes, I need you," you replied, bashful.

"I need you, too," he breathed, into another kiss. "I'm literally aching for you."

You sighed into his kiss, unsure if you'd be able to handle sex with him, mentally or physically.

He climbed off the bed to take off his shorts, which at this point, left little to the imagination.

You bit your lip at the sight of his throbbing length, now knowing all the stories you heard about him were true.

He fished a condom out of his nightstand and quickly tore open the foil packaging. He then rolled it onto himself before climbing back onto the bed.

He positioned himself between your legs and pressed his body against you once more. You had to resist gasping, as it felt like all the air was being pushed from your lungs, and nothing had even happened yet.

His hand then stroked your cheek while he gazed at you, softly.

"Are you ok?" He asked, with traces of a smile.

"Yeah, this is just one of those moments I never thought would happen," you admitted. "Its surreal, you know?"

He nodded. "I get it. I know how my reputation makes me sound, but I'm really not that much of an asshole."

"I hope not," you laughed.

"If you give me another shot after tonight, I'll prove it to you," he replied, hopeful.

"I'm pretty sure you've already guaranteed yourself another shot with me," you smiled.

He bit his lip before pressing his lips to yours. Your hands immediately went to cradle his face as he slowly eased himself into you.

You hadn't felt anything like this before, as he was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with.

You each moaned into the others mouths as he pushed himself all the way in.

"Fuck..." he breathed, in a drawn out breath. "How's it feel, is it too much?"

"N-No, it's good..." you said, ragged.

"Yeah?" He asked, as he slowly moved his hips.

"Yes...oh S-Steve..." you gasped, already overwhelmed by him.

"You feel so good, honey.....fuck..." he praised, thrusting a little faster.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to push himself even deeper.

You were now truly gasping for air, as he was so deep inside you, and thrusting even faster.

He buried his face in your neck, leaving new love bites, as he relished how you took every inch of him.

"Still good, angel?" He asked, his voice muffled against your skin.

"Y-Yes, so fucking good...don't stop, please..."

"Oh, I won't..." he replied, breathless.

Sweat covered your bodies as you each worked up to your releases. He licked the perspiration from your neck, up to your ear, illiciting an obscene moan from you.

" Kiss me..." you pleaded, not caring how needy you sounded.

He immediately pressed his lips to yours for a wet kiss. You licked the sweat from his upper lip, which made him shudder.

"You're so fucking hot, oh my God," he breathed, before deepening his kiss.

His thrusts became sloppy and erratic, signaling he was close. You held him impossibly close as you neared your release. One hand was in his hair while the other was gripping his sweaty shoulder.

After a couple thrusts, you came undone around him, pulling him into a kiss, to muffle your cries of pleasure.

His kiss was equally sloppy as you sent him over the edge. He breathed praises mixed with your name, against your lips, as he kept fucking you, until he couldn't anymore.

Once the waves of pleasure washed over him, he stilled, on top of you. He pressed his forehead to yours, while breathing heavily.

"Shit...that was way better than any fantasy could ever be," he panted.

"It was," you replied, dreamily.

He then gazed into your eyes.

"You were amazing," he praised, as his hand cupped your cheek. "I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but that was the best sex I've had in a long time."

Your brain short circuited as you processed what he said.

"Really?" You questioned, as your eyes searched his for any trace of insincerity.

"Yeah, see, I knew you wouldn't believe me..."

"Its not that I don't believe you, I'm just surprised," you clarified, smoothing a hand through his hair.

"I guess I should've expected that, considering that it's me and everything," he replied, deflated.

"Steve, look at me," you softly instructed.

His eyes warily met yours.

"I believe you."

You then pulled him into a kiss, repeating that over and over, against his lips. He reciprocated your kiss and deepened it.

"Wait one second," he breathed, before pulling out of you, making you wince.

He carefully pulled the condom off and discarded it in a nearby trash can. He then returned to you, pulling you to his side.

"I knew there was something special about you," he revealed, as his hand gently stoked your hair.

You smiled, as you looked up at him.

"You'll be good for me," he continued, "in more ways than one."

"Does that mean THE Steve Harrington is now a one woman man?" You playfully asked, making him laugh and roll his eyes.

"Maybe," he smiled, "though I'll need to take you on a proper date first, I think."

"You mean this didn't count?" You pressed, with an exaggerated pout.

"Well, yeah, but I don't want you think that's the only reason I wanted to see you tonight..."

His insecurity crept back in causing you to lean in and kiss him.

" I know how you feel about me," you quietly said, gazing into his troubled eyes. "I know your feelings for me go deeper than just hooking up at one of your parties."

"Like I said, you'll be good for me," he smiled before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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