#Anything in a playboy bunny suit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

American Psycho*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*

The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“What…are you wearing?”

Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”

“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”

“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”

You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”

“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”

“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”

“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”

“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”

“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”

Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”

He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”

“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”

He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”

“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”

“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”

“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”

Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”

“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”

With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.

“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”

Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”

You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”

You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.

“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.

“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”

He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”

“Only if you agree to go.”

“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.

“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”

And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.

“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”

“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”

He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”

“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”

“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”

You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”

His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”

And you can’t help but grin.

“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”

Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”

“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”

“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.

She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”

He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You wink.

The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.

And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself.

You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.

Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room.

However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.

So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket.

It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune.

And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy.

Your breath hitches.

And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room.

Just like he promised.

After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.

But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.

A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.

He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation.

You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.

Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”

“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”

“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”

Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”

“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”

“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”

You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.

And then, you feel the strength increase.

It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.

But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.

And you have to admit…you adore him for it.

With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”

Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.

Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.

But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.

Him.

So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.

You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”

The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.

You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.

And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.

He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions.

He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.

He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”

You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”

He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder.

One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.

“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”

“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”

You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten.

“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”

You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.

And his mouth.

This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.

You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through.

“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”

You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume.

He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.

He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.

“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”

“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”

But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”

You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.

“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.

You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.

He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.

But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.

Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.

“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”

Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”

You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.

Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.

The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.

But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”

You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs.

“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”

“Sir—”

“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”

“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”

“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.

You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.

“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”

You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.

“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”

“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”

His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”

“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”

“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.

You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”

Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”

You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”

You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”

Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”

“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”

He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”

“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”

And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.

The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers.

“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”

Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.

“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”

“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”

You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”

He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.

However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”

The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.

“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”

You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”

You offer a garbled noise.

“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”

Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips.

And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.

You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.

“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”

Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.

It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.

That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.

“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”

The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.

You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.

“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”

He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.

“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”

His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip. “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”

And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.

Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.

You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.

And him.

The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.

And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other.

“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”

And you do.

You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch.

He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.

The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one.

“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”

You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”

He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”

“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”

Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.

“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.

You nod quickly.

“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.”

You feel your breath hitch.

He smiles.

“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”

~ One for the Money Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

1K notes · View notes

golden1u5t · 5 months

Text

playboy bunny | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: suggestive

ꨄ summary: while being questioned in regards to a murder investigation, your only way of proving your innocence is the tattoo you have on your underboob.

you're sitting in the chilly interrogation room, your arms folded in as goosebumps spread across your skin. the only thing you had on was a thin tank top and a pair of shorts the officers had given you to cover up the bathing suit you were wearing.

they hadn't said much when they brought you in, there was a ringing of shock in your brain that only allowed you to process the words 'murder investigation'.

after sitting in the cold room for at least half an hour, the door finally opened and two agents came in. you could tell they weren't just the local police, not just because of the way they dressed but also because of the way they carried themselves, they were confident but not in a cocky way like regular cops were.

"y/n? i'm emily prentiss," she gave you a polite smile as she sat down across from you. "this is derek morgan. we'll be questioning you today." she gestured towards morgan as he stood behind her.

"i'll tell you what i told those cops, i didn't do whatever you're accusing me of doing."

"we're not accusing you of anything, yet." morgan spoke from his position behind prentiss. your eyes flickered from the case file being presented in front of you to him crossing his arms over his chest.

emily spread out a few pictures in front of you, all of them of different men dead and mutilated from the waist down. you turned away from them and leaned back in your chair, feeling as though all the drinks and food you had the night prior were slowing making its way back up.

they started off with simple questions: "do you recognize these men?" "where were you last night?" then they moved to more deeper questions: "who was your last relationship?"

"were you abused as a child?" "what's your relationship like with your father?"

they didnt let up until the door opened again and another agent came in. you sat up straight when your eyes landed on him. he was tall and very handsome, he was just your type. under any other circumstances you would have started to fix your hair up and try to catch his attention.

"it's not her."

"how do you know that, reid?" morgan turned towards him with a confused look on his face. you watched as spencer blushed and glance over at you for a brief moment before turning back to derek.

"a witness came forward, said they saw the unsub and victim at the park when they were doing- uhm- when they were having sex. the unsub didn't have any tattoos." spencer stated, he still refused to look at you.

you thought for a second that he'd found you incredibly hideous but then the his words about the unsub not having tattoos donned on you. without second guessing him, emily walked around the table and uncuffed you. almost immediately you started to rub the skin on your wrist, wincing slightly at the dull pain. you waited until emily and derek walked out of the room to speak up.

"how do you know i have a tattoo?"

spencer finally looked at you, he shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "i saw your photoshoot in a magazine a while back." he mumbled, the blush on his face spreading to his neck.

"¡ assume you'll be in town for a few more days?" you stood up from the chair and made your way to stand in front of him. spencer quickly said yes before catching how eager he sounded and settling with a nod. "maybe we can have dinner and explore some of the other tattoos that didn't make it in the shoot."

"i- i'll have to think about it." there was no thinking honestly, he just didn't want to sound desperate.

"i'm sure you have my number if you wanna take me up on that offer." you gave him a smile and brushed past him.

spencer knew for a fact that he would be taking you up on that offer.

#golden1u5t #myrarants #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #sub spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

569 notes · View notes

rafesfavbimbo · 1 month

Text

glamourmodel!reader is the ultimate playmate! sure, she dabbles in a variety of modeling but she always goes back to her roots. she's been 'Playmate of the Year' a handful of times. has the most covers and centerfolds! she's got a pink and black bunny suit designed specifically for her. she loves all things pink, specifically 'Playboy' pink. diamonds and white-gold always glisten on her, hair perfectly styled, pouty lips always slathered in pale pink gloss, eyes always flirty and seductive with wispy lashes. she only owns skimpy clothing and wrinkles her nose in disgust at anything modest. heels always adorned on her feet. but now instead of running around Los Angeles as the ultimate bunny of Hefner's mansion, she's the bunny of Kildare's Tannyhill! Specifically Rafe's bunny. His and his only. 🐰🌸💕

(as always glamourmodel!reader can be imagined as anyone)

158 notes · View notes

capr1pengu1n · 2 months

Text

A little victim-less crime

Summary: Upon losing a bet, your consequence is to dress up in an outfit of Edward's choosing, while he shares you with his colleague, Jonathan Crane

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader, threesome, dom!Edward and dom!Jonathan, slight scriddler vibes tbh, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, facefucking, hair pulling

Words: 3.4k

Notes: This is FILTHY guys i'm so sorry, this was inspired by a dream i had and i wrote it all in one sitting lmao. It was meant to be more of a drabble while I work on an anon request but um...yeah this happened. This is also my first time writing Jonathan so forgive me if his characterisation is a little rough.

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

“Don’t keep us waiting doll, you promised.”

Hearing your boyfriend call to you gives you a rush of excitement and nerves as you stand in his apartment bathroom. Staring at the muted green tiles on the wall, you breathe slowly to prepare yourself before looking in the mirror to adjust your ears. Bunny ears.

You remember the playful bet you made with the two supervillains, hard to forget when you’re dealing with men like them. Edward, your lover, wasn’t too shy about sharing you with his friend, and as such you developed a taste for having both the criminals at once. He still had demands of his sadistic companion, like that he was not to use his fear toxin on you unless he had your explicit consent, even though Edward knows he still wouldn’t allow it; not sharing quite the same appetite for fear, especially yours. Since Edward’s pride also dictated that you could only be with Jonathan when he was present, you began to look forward to times when you knew the doctor would be coming to visit. It was one of such visits when you’d made the remark you were now slightly regretting.

“Oh come on, he clearly has to blink.”

You were referring to Jonathan’s uncanny ability to stare uninterrupted without blinking, causing Edward to chuckle. “Not if he can help it, although I suppose you could always try and outlast him.”

“Outlast me? Please, she couldn’t possibly.” Jonathan drawled, whiskey glass in hand as he smirked. He knew what he was doing, feeding into the competitiveness you tried to hide.

“I can…I’ll prove it.” You replied, overconfident. Before Jonathan could reply, Edward chimed in.

“Why don’t you make it a bet, my dear?”

This caused intrigue to be felt in the room, as you and Jon looked at Edward, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Perhaps, if you win, both me and Jonathan have to…be your servants for an allotted time.” He started, causing Jonathan to scoff. “Now now Crane, don’t be a spoilsport.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly and ask, “and what if Jonathan wins?”

“Don’t I get to decide? Since I’m the one doin’ all the effort here.” Jonathan murmured, before Edward smirked a little.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with my choice. If Jonathan wins, you have to wear something of my choosing, and be ours for the night.”

You couldn’t deny the offer was tempting, having them both at your beck and call would certainly knock their egos down a peg. Although you had no idea what on earth Edward planned on dressing you as if Jonathan won. But what’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine, deal.”

You can almost hear those two words in your head as you look at yourself now, twisting your body to look from every angle. All your curves were squeezed into a tight black corset style bodysuit that even had a cotton tail on the ass. You were floored when Edward had sent you into the bathroom with the instructions that your costume was on the side of the bath, expecting maybe some plain lingerie. But a playboy bunny suit? You’d blushed the whole time you put it on, pulling up the nylon stockings and attaching the wrist cuffs and bowtie neckpiece. Despite your initial hesitance, you’re sure they’ll like it as you spin in the mirror. It certainly doesn’t hide anything.

“Doll, you’re testing our patience.” You hear Edward say sternly from outside, so you reassure him you’ll be out in a moment. Taking a deep breath, you adjust the silly bunny ears on the top of your head for a final time and leave the bathroom, heading down the small hallway to the living room where the two men were sat.

The tension could be cut with a knife as they both look at you, momentarily stunned. Jonathan’s face seems more shocked; clearly Edward had kept it a secret from him what exactly you’d be wearing. But even Edward’s face looks a little stunned, his eyes greedily drinking it all in as he watches you step forward. Unsure what to do, you stand there, placing your hands behind your back in a submissive way they both seem to appreciate.

“Oh sweetheart, look at you.” Edward remarks, grinning now as he adjusts himself in his seat. “Come over here, give Crane a closer look.”

You know he likes that, reminding everyone in the room that despite the dynamics at play, he still is the one that has full control over you, he’s still the one letting Jonathan see you like this. Obliging him, you move over to where the two men sit on the couch.

“Ain’t she pretty.” Jonathan hums, leaning forward a little to properly inspect your curves.

“Well, I think this was a tremendous idea by me.” Edward says in a self-satisfied manner, before gesturing to the floor. “But I don’t think you should be standing right now, should you dear?”

You shake your head before you even realise, getting on your knees in front of them, keeping your back straight so you look eager. Jonathan huffs out a small laugh, flicking the bunny ears on your head. “Real cute.”

Biting your lip softly, you have a good idea of how this is going to go as you feel Edward’s hand tilt your chin up, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us? Or should I say, a good bunny.” He teases, relishing in how condescending and demeaning it sounds to call you a bunny. Especially since you’re the one who got yourself into this position. Regardless, you nod obediently.

“I’m nice enough to admit that Crane probably deserves the first go, since his freakish eyes won us this sight of you.” He relents, leaning back a little and dropping his hand.

“Damn right I do.” Jonathan mumbles, glaring at Edward having not missed the subtle insult. You hesitate before starting to undo the scarecrow’s belt, not missing the way his eyes flash. “Oh, what an eager bunny you seem to be, that right darlin’?”

He helps you to rid him of his belt and slacks, as you decide to play up the whole pet angle and nuzzle your face into his bulge. A groan is heard from above you as he pulls at your hair a little. “Dirty thing.”

Tugging his boxers down, his cock nearly hits you in the face as he holds you in place with his grip. You look up at him, waiting for permission which causes a rush of blood to go straight to his dick. “Look so good, lookin’ up at me like that.” His voice sounds rougher, emphasising his southern accent in a way that sends shivers up your spine, and forces you to clamp your thighs tightly together. Pushing you forward a little, you get the hint and lick a stripe upwards, repeating the motion a few times.

“Arch your back.” Edward says suddenly, his smug smirk never wavering as he demands you. “You’re my bunny too, remember? I want a show.”

Doing your best to do what he asks, you arch your back to emphasise your ass, even giving it a shake for him. His eyes are fixated on the cotton tail, before nodding as if to tell you he’s pleased. But Jonathan clearly isn’t happy with the change in focus, tugging your hair sharply to get you to continue. Breathing deeply, you open your mouth and start to suckle the tip of his cock, before slowly sinking down and bobbing your head. You’re rewarded with a low sound from Jonathan, making the heat between your legs worsen. Jonathan has never been a particularly loud lover, so any sound you can get him to make is a win, you think, as you keep sucking. Your hands grip Jonathan’s thighs, giving you leverage as you bob your head.

Edward watches the sight, mesmerised as he always is. He’ll never admit it out loud, but seeing both of you like this turns him on to no end. Captivated by how your lips look wrapped around the closest thing he has to a friend, causes him to grip his own thigh tight. You make a soft noise around Jonathan’s cock as you pull off for a moment, licking up it and looking up under your eyelashes. He strokes your cheek softly, his way of praising you without words before you begin again.

“You can do better then that, bunny.” Edward mocks, his hand finding itself in your hair as he starts to slowly move your mouth up and down Jonathan’s length. The doctor takes a sharp intake of breath at the sudden change, as Edward forces you deeper before pulling you nearly all the way off, repeating the action. You moan softly, the vibrations sending shocks up Jonathan’s back as he watches you.

“Good little pet, letting me take control.” Edward says lowly, still controlling your pace. “Show us how good you are. Hands behind your back, lace your fingers together.”

You stutter out another whimper as you do what he instructs, lacing your fingers behind your back. Your reward however seems to be your boyfriend pushing you down faster now, almost trying his best to trigger your gag reflex. Jonathan’s hand finds a home on your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your collarbone. You gag softly as Edward pushes your mouth nearly to the base of Jonathan’s cock, pulling you up to catch your breath before shoving you back down. He repeats this over and over, time blurring as you let yourself be used like this.

Despite the fact you can barely think, the one thing you can realise is how strangely intimate this feels. Not for you specifically, but for the two men above you. Edward essentially pleasuring Jonathan himself, with you acting as the toy. Although you can’t dwell on that for too long when Jonathan’s hips start to twitch and thrust up into your hot mouth, causing tears to form in your eyes from the intrusion. Still, you do your best to relax your throat as Edward keeps maneuvering you up and down, your bunny ears sitting askew halfway down your hair.

“Gettin’ close girl, where should I cum hm?” Jonathan rasps out, asking you as if you had the hope of answering as you splutter and choke on his length. Instead, you do your best to look up at him, your thighs pressed together but offering your drenched cunt little relief.

“Maybe I should paint that pretty doll face of yours, or that body in your slutty outfit.” He mumbles, and you swear you’ve never heard him this talkative before while you go down on him. It makes you shiver, before a small groan escape his lips. “Or maybe I’ll just let you drink it all up.”

You make a pleased noise, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as Edward keeps pushing your down further and further on Jonathan’s cock, your nose practically brushing against his pelvis. Jonathan’s hips twitch and his thigh tense, before he cums inside your mouth with a loud groan. Edward holds your position as his partner finishes, before he pulls your hair and lets you off his length.

“Don’t swallow. Be a good bunny and show us.” Edward taunts, knowing how embarrassing the request he’s making of you is. Still, you relent and stick your tongue out for the two criminals, eager to hopefully get a reward for your obedience.

As Edward looks at you both, his friend panting and spent, and his girl on her knees in front of them with cum painted on her tongue, he feels the rush of power and dominance that he craves, his ego through the roof now.

“Good girl, swallow.”

So you do, tasting the bitter cum before catching your breath properly. Your knees slightly ache from being on the floor this long, but you stay with your fingers interlocked.

“So, you gonna fuck her?” Jonathan finally speaks, glancing at Edward, however the narcissist simply shakes his head. You should feel a little embarrassed at how callously the two men discuss this, but you’re so desperate for your lovers’ attention you don’t let it bother you.

“No no…I think I’ll have the same.” He grins, before heat rises to your cheeks. You go to move into position between his legs before he speaks again. “On the sofa.”

Jonathan moves over to accommodate you as you get up next to him, before leaning over until you’re eye level with Edward’s crotch, adjusting your bunny ears. Your boyfriend hums appreciatively and runs a hand down your spine, feeling the material of your costume beneath his fingertips.

“You know what to do.” He says coldly, as you scramble to undo his belt. Meanwhile, Jonathan is greeted to the sight of his life as he practically has your ass in his face. He can’t resist the temptation to gently run his hand over the back of your thighs. The motion causes your desperate state to push back against him, and Jonathan scoffs a little.

With the assistance of Edward, you finally have his cock in front of you as you repeat the action from earlier, licking from base to tip a few times. To watch you jump, the man on the other end of you suddenly spanks you harshly, the gasp escaping your lips pleasing him. Edward utilises this to grab your hair and push you down on himself, not as harshly as before. You start to suck eagerly, bobbing your head up and down as he allows you to set the pace.

Jonathan spanks your other cheek before massaging your ass firmly, enjoying how your body bends and contorts from this angle. He notices that your bodysuit connects at the crotch, and he smirks before tracing his finger along it, ghosting your cunt through the material. You can’t help but let out a noise around Edward’s cock, needy for anything as you grind against the digit.

“Oh, you dumb little pet. Are you that needy?” Edward starts, ever the motormouth even when getting head. You nod around him.

“I suppose I could make m’self useful.” Jonathan says, a teasing lilt in his tone as he gently traces the seams of your bodysuit.

“You want that? Want Crane to play with you, bunny?” Edward asks, revelling in your needy whine. “Seems like she does…”

“Wouldn’t want her clawing at the furniture.” Jonathan remarks, and before you can remind him that you’re a bunny, not a cat, Edward pushes your head down just as Jonathan rips open the crotch of your bodysuit. You gag softly, feeling as Jonathan strokes up and down your dripping folds; Edward hadn’t left you any underwear to go with your costume. His finger trails up to gently play with your clit as Edward lets you breathe. Moaning, you tilt your head to look up at your boyfriend and observe the smug look etched onto his features before you go back to your job, sucking with vigour as Jonathan increases the pressure. Before long, he trails down and pushes a finger inside your cunt, the sound of how wet you are seemingly echoes around the room.

Both you and Edward let out a groan at this, your cunt finally being filled as you back yourself up on the doctor’s fingers, before he graciously adds a second one. The slick sounds of his digits fucking your pussy can barely be heard over the equally depraved sounds of you sucking Edward like your life depends on it. Your boyfriend is in heaven, truly having the best show of his life in front of his eyes. You can feel your bunny ears slip down again as Edward runs his fingers through your hair, before he corrects them on top of your head.

“So slutty, must be quite the honour. To have pleasured both of the most wanted criminals in Gotham, hm?” Edward teases, always having to mention himself even when trying to make you more wanton and desperate.

“I suppose that’s just what bunnies like her are made for.” Jonathan joins in, moving his fingers quicker and harsher. You moan out around Edward, the condescension making your clit throb. Your lovers’ hips twitch a little, forcing his cock deeper as you relax your throat. Making an almost pornographic slurping noise, you double down on your efforts as Jonathan pleasures you more and more.

“So good, what a good slut.” Edward praises, his hand running down so he can move his thumb over your cheeks as you suck.

Your pussy tightens at his words, Jonathan feeling this and smirking more. He uses his other hand to spank your ass again harshly, wanting to keep you on edge. Curling his fingers a little, your eyes roll back as you’re filled from both ends. You can’t deny that you love this, love feeling like a plaything for two men that strike fear in the majority of Gotham’s citizens. It makes you feel powerful in your own way, having almost tamed them in a manner of speaking. As you push yourself down so Edward’s cock hits the back of your throat, you know that you have the riddler addicted to you and the devotion you give him. You know just how to make him feel like a king, how to give him the praise and attention he feels he deserves, and you love giving it to him for moments like this. Where you can just switch your brain off and let yourself be a pet, a bunny, for them both.

“God, what a mouth.” He mumbles, slapping your cheek gently to punctuate his words as he barely suppresses yet another groan.

“She really is somethin’ else.” Jonathan agrees, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace inside you.

“And all mine, aren’t you?”

You realise that despite it all, this is Edward’s way of asking for reassurance, and you’re all to happy to nod around him. However, with the intense onslaught of sensation, especially now that Jonathan has slipped his other hand around your thigh to rub at your clit, you know you’re getting close. You pull off Edward with a pop before hurriedly speaking.

“Getting close…” you warn them both, before going back to your blowjob as Edward moans softly at your announcement.

“Yeah? Gonna cum sweetheart? Cum from being the riddler’s pet bunny?” he goads you, as he watches you moan desperately around him. “Don’t you dare pull off. Want to watch you cum with my cock in your mouth, understand?”

You nod, as Jonathan speeds up his firm circles on your clit. You’re in heaven, the comforting weight of your boyfriend on your tongue as Jonathan fingers you into oblivion. After a few moments, you’re cumming on Jonathan’s fingers with a moan, the intensity causing your whole body to shake. Edward groans at the sight, gripping your hair in place before thrusting up into your mouth. You swear you’re still orgasming, letting him use you as your mouth goes slack. It doesn’t take long before Edward finishes in your mouth with a grunt, letting go of your hair. You pull off and swallow, before taking sharp intakes of breath. Only then does Jonathan pull his fingers out of you, crudely wiping them on your ass.

Edward pulls you up, letting you rest against him, stroking his hand up and down your back gently.

“That alright?” he asks, like he always does. With your nod, he relaxes a little more. “You looked truly delectable in that costume. I really did make the right choice.”

“What was it between?” Jonathan pipes up. He never really is one for aftercare, but still sticks around, occasionally stroking an area of your body absentmindedly.

“This, or a maid outfit.” He explains, looking at your form with a smirk. “I went with something classy.”

“Classy?” you repeat, “You can practically see my whole ass.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jonathan asks, causing you to scoff and giggle.

“Well, the iconic playboy bunny outfit design was finalised in the early 60s by a French designer, so yes I’d argue it’s very classy.” Edward says, adjusting the bunny ears on your head. “Playboy bunnies are also required to know and identify 143 brands of liquor, and bend down in a certain way to serve men their drinks.”

“Alright alright, I’m not going that far.” You say with a small laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Not yet.” He mutters teasingly.

#the riddler #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #dc fanfic #dc smut #edward nygma #edward nygma smut #edward nygma x reader #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #the scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #the scarecrow smut #jonathan crane smut #scriddler #scriddler x reader #riddler x reader #dc x reader #batman x reader

149 notes · View notes

oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

funny bunny |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a halloween couples costume that's inspired by yours and eddie's relationship, and his special nickname for you.

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple big creds for the older!eddie pic used in the header!!!!

contains: age gap relationship. eddie is 43, reader is 26. everything is consensual. language, drinking, filthy filth ahead MINORS DNI 18+, oral fem receiving v and a, ass play, plugs, fingering v and a, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie. role-play-ish. not really rough mainly just kinky freaky but some aftercare after.

"You look so good!"

You squealed from your place at your vanity, pulling the hot rollers out of your hair.

Eddie pouted slightly, brows creased in a deep furrow on his forehead. Looking down at the Burgundy, velvet robe with black trim, he let out a small huff. "I look ridiculous." He muttered.

"No, you don't." You giggled, running your hands over the silk trim, fixing the collar. "This looks so good. I can't believe how close it looks to the real thing." You grinned, eyes gleaming when you looked up at him. "You look just like Hefner."

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head slowly so his curls bobbed, inked hand rubbing across his beard. "I think that might be more insulting than you mean it to be, bunny." He grumbled, plopping on the edge of the bed. "I'm not that old."

You laughed, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with a wide smile. Eddie couldn't help but smile back. How could he not? With how your warmth just radiated out of you and into him. Infectious happiness.

"I meant the robe." You reassured, running a hand down his chest. "We're going to look so good tonight. Steve and Nancy aren't gonna know what hit them!" You squealed, smacking your lips to his cheek in a quick, loud kiss before scampering back over to the vanity.

Eddie groaned. It had taken you weeks of convincing for him to agree to this costume. Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny; a classic- well, maybe more for frat boys, but when the idea came to you, you just had to do it. A light jest to the clear age difference in your relationship, a way to poke fun at the obvious, but also a nod towards your beloved nickname Eddie had given you: bunny.

A sweet, innocent little nickname, that had been given to you at a completely un-innocent moment, and it had stuck. You were Eddie's little bunny, his golden girl. His.

"Will you promise you won't post any pictures tonight?" Eddie asked for the tenth time that night. "I don't need Brielle seeing that shit or- fuck- or Gina. She'll probably take me back to court."

You nodded. "Eddie, I promise, baby, I won't post anything. I don't need to get fired over a Halloween costume. You know how those parents are." You teased, looking at him through the mirror. "And I highly doubt you'll be deemed an unfit parent for a Hefner costume."

Eddie nodded, looking down at his watch. "You almost ready? We're supposed to be there at seven."

You sprayed the final spritz of hairspray around yourself, smoothing and setting your styled hair. "I just gotta get dressed." You grinned, slipping towards the bathroom, throwing him a playful wink. "I'll be right back, Mr. Hefner." You dropped your voice to a sultry, low voice, batting your eyes before shutting the door.

Keeping your costume a secret for as long as you did was the hardest part. Eddie had agreed, eventually, but only with some persuasion, bribery. He had been dying to see your costume since you first announced it had come in. While his costume was nice, very close to the replica robe that the Playboy founder always wore with a matching pipe, it was nothing compared to yours.

Black nylon tights that were just sheer enough. Black pumps that Eddie loved on you anyways, he loved how they made your legs look- long and endless, his hands always trailing up your calf, squeezing your ankle. The corset, body suit was risqué. High cut and covering just enough of your ass that it could pass as barely not lingerie. Strapless and low in the front, tight enough to hold your breasts up in just the right way. You'd ordered white cuffs and a bowtie cuff choker to really complete the look, the authentic Playboy Bunny look.

Then of course, what kind of bunny would you be without ears and a tail? Black, silk ears that stood tall and slightly crooked on the headband, adjusted so it bent just barely. The tail, a black, faux-fur attachment you pinned just on your tailbone.

Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, smoothing your clammy hands over your bodice. You had been so excited to show Eddie just moments ago, but now... you wondered if it was too much. If he'd like it. If he'd yell at you, accuse you of wanting unwarranted attention that wasn't his, demand for you to change, tell you that you're embarrassing him like your boyfriends in the past did.

"You need any help in there?" Eddie's voice called from outside the door, making you jump slightly, ears falling forward gently.

"No! Just finishing up." You grabbed the hair pin, securing the ears back into place.

You checked your reflection one last time. Hands smoothing down the corset, turning in the mirror to make sure your attached tail was in the right place. Your heels clicked across the tile floors of the bathroom.

"Close your eyes." You called, barely cracking the door before you walked out. Eddie chuckled lightly and you could hear the bed creak, shifting his weight on the mattress. "Are they closed?" You asked, squinting out the small sliver through the door.

"They're closed, baby." Eddie reassured, his voice low and gravely. It made your stomach flip. "C'mon, show me Playmate."

Pulling the door open slowly, the hinges creaking ever so lightly, you stepped on to the shag carpet, steps muted by the material. You walked slowly, hands twisting and wringing in front of you before stopping in front of Eddie. You knew by the way his smile grew, dimples deep in his scruff and lines by his eyes crinkling, that he could feel your presence.

"Ok, open them." You smiled, placing your hands on your hips playfully.

Eddie's eyes opened, brows raising in amusement. "Oh-oh-oh, bunny." He laughed, moving closer, his hands reaching out for yours. You blushed under his gaze, how he roamed over your legs, tongue poking his cheek in a sideways smirk. Eddie looked at the cuffs, took extra time looking at your bodice and collar, calloused hands gliding over you.

"You've outdone yourself." Eddie smirked, looking up at you from his place on the edge of the bed. "Definitely getting the front page."

"You didn't even see my tail." You grinned, spinning and shaking your hips towards him, the attached tail bouncing with the movement.

Eddie groaned, low and deep, but playful. "Jesus, baby bunny, you're killing me. You know that?" He smacked your ass playfully, right beneath the tail, making you squeal. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to the party with you looking like this."

"We have to go, Eddie." You pouted. "Or else no one will see our costumes, and I worked so hard on them."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but stood, his hands still not leaving your waist. "I'd be alright with that." He laughed. "You could get me out of this robe and show me why you're called bunny, hm? Ride me all night, how's that sound?" Eddie nipped, tongue tickling the shell of your ear making you squeal and squirm against his hot breath.

You let out a nasally laugh when he squeezed your waist, hands gliding over your hips and tummy on the corset. He kissed right above your collar on your neck. "Eddie," You whined, thighs clamping. "Stop, we've got to go."

Eddie sighed, gently but not angry. He looked at your with soft brown eyes that had you melting. "I promise, when we get back I'll put on my real costume for you." You bit your lips, eyes meeting his, playful and alluring.

Eddie's brow quipped. "This isn't your costume?" He asked, hands trailing down your waist.

You shook your head, ears bouncing. "It's one of them, but I have a special costume just for you, Mr. Hefner." You purred, leaning forward so your lips barely brushed his. Eddie growled, tattooed fingers gripping your hips, digging into the nylons.

"But," You pushed back on his chest lightly. "We have to do this first." You lifted a finger towards him. Eddie groaned, head falling back. "Put your hat on Hef, we're late." You grinned, tossing him the captain's hat and slipping on your coat.

***

"Woah-ho-ho," Steve Harrington cackled, leaning in the doorway of his Hawkins McMansion. His amber eyes were wide, amused. "No fuckin' way. Hef and a Bunny?" He laughed, clapping his hands together.

You grinned proudly, arm lacing with Eddie's as you adjusted his hat, straightening it on top of his curls. "His favorite Playmate." You winked, giggling when Eddie's hand squeezed your ass.

"That's a fuckin' classic, holy shit." Steve laughed, shutting the door as the two of you walked in. "Nance, look at this!" He called into the living room where the party rage- well, as raging as a middle aged Halloween party could be. King Steve still did his best, even without the keg, you'd give him that.

Nancy gasped, Robin trailing behind her. "Oh my God, this is fuckin' amazing!" Robin laughed.

"How did you even think of this?" Nancy laughed, looking at the two of you, touching your cuffs on your arms.

You shrugged, biting back a smile when your eyes met Eddie's. "I dunno, just seemed kind of fitting." You laughed. "Brielle and I were actually watching House Bunny and it hie me, honestly."

Nancy laughed, shaking her curls that were piled high and teased. "That's genius, honestly. Way better than the Top Gun idea." Nancy rolled her eyes, glaring lightly at Steve, or Maverick, as he was supposed to be.

Nancy and Robin pulled you into the living room, offering to get you a drink while you chatted. Steve smirked, clapping Eddie playfully on the back. "Munson," He laughed, shaking his head.

Eddie grinned, shrugging as he watched you walk away, little fur tail bobbing with every swing of your ass. Steve snorted. "Hey, you think you can talk to your girl? See if she could convince Nancy to wear something like that for next year?" Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes, following you into the living room.

***

You were tipsy, but not drunk. You'd controlled yourself, despite the flowing drinks that Nancy kept offering you. You had a promise to keep.

You sat on the bench in Eddie's truck, hands in his, thighs touching, sharing small kisses at red lights. His hand cupped your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon.

Every passing red light, his grip got tighter on the wheel as they inched closer and closer back to home. If your current costume was any indicator of what was to come, Eddie couldn't wait. He pressed the gas further, fake pipe lying next to his cigarettes in the cup holder, captain's hat resting on the dash.

Eddie threw the gear into park, the truck stopping with a jostle that had you giggling, his hands rough and pressed against your cheeks, pulling you into a harsh kiss. You could taste the beer he'd drank on his tongue, roaming in your mouth, hands moving down your jaw to your collar.

You giggled when Eddie pulled you inside, pinning you up against the door, hands in a tight grip on your waist, his lips on your jaw, kissing just below your ear.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You squealed, eyes rolling back when he sucked on your neck. "Wait! I have to change, Eddie. I have another costume." You giggled, pulling back, your head resting against the cool wood of the door.

Eddie's shoulders fell slightly. "Bunny, this costume is more than enough." He pouted. "I've been ready to fuck you all night."

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "Just wait right here." You scampered down the hall towards his room. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

And, oh, was it.

Eddie waited for twenty agonizing minutes, hearing thumps and movement from behind the closed door of his bedroom. His leg bounced, hands pressed together. He'd ditched his clothes, well, except for the robe. It was comfy, and if you were going to stay dressed up, he figured he would too.

You beckoned Eddie in, squirming with excitement, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Eddie laughed when he walked in, eyes lit up and excited. "Shit..." Eddie's eyes roamed over your frame, your sheepish smile.

You knelt, waiting in what Eddie thought was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Black lace lingerie that left you exposed, completely see through and vulnerable. He could see your pebbled nipples through the cups, your exposed slit through the cut middle between your legs. The back was low on your spine, but high cup on the side, resting just above your hips. The best part- the slit went all the way up to your tail bone, leaving you completely exposed.

You finished off the look with two accessories just for him. A pair of matching lace ears, flimsier than the ones of the other costume, but complete with a small veil that covered your eyes, hitting the bridge of your nose. You'd tied your hair up, securing the ribbon underneath the ponytail.

Eddie's eyes traveled down next to you, where you giggled in excitement. Laying on the towel beside you, his real treat. A little tube of lee from his bedside drawer, and a fluffy, black tail attached to a plug- your bunny tail to complete the look.

You knew better than to put it in yourself and deprive him of his favorite part.

Eddie's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, picking up the shiny plug, rolling the cool metal around his fingers. You grinned, excitedly. "What do you think, Mr. Hefner?" You teased, cocking your head to the side. "Think I'll make Playmate of the month? Cover?"

Eddie laughed, deep and dark. "Oh, bunny," He brought the fur part to your now exposed neck, ticking over your collarbones so you shivered. "I think you're close, but you gotta show me you really want it." His eyes darkened, making you blush under his gaze.

"You ready to show me?" Eddie asked. Your head bobbed eagerly, obediently.

Eddie smirked. "That's my girl. Roll over for me, baby. All fours. Stick that pretty little ass up for me."

You shifted quickly, arching deep and low, pressing your hips up and your shoulders flat against the mattress. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his drawer.

"Gotta find my fuckin' camera, holy shit." Eddie muttered, pushing his socks and belts around in the drawer. "Gotta capture this, bunny. Can't believe you did this for me. All for me, huh?"

Your thighs clenched together, throbbing at the praise. Eyes pinched and you were sure he could see your slick already spreading, the cool air making goosebumps trail down your shoulders and spine.

Eddie pressed the film in, the whirl of the Polaroid starting up. He moved to the front, kneeling on the bed, camera pointed at you. "Look at me, bunny." You lifted your eyes, rounded and awaiting for him. The flash of the camera blinded you for a moment, making you blink under the lace mask over your eyes.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking the photo a few times before setting the camera back on his nightstand. "'M keepin' that for fuckin' ever." He groaned, hands trailing over your thighs and hips. "Gettin' that shit tattooed on me right now."

You giggled, arching into his touch on your ass. His hand trailed down your thighs and towards your aching center, gasping when he slid his pointer finger through your slick folds. Eddie hummed, pressing his face forward, licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass, collecting every drop of you and his tongue prodding your tightest hole.

You gasped, low and growling, clenching around nothing, head tilting back. You fisted the sheets, pushing your hips back even further when his touch returned to your aching clit, circling it with just the right pressure and speed that had your head spinning.

Eddie toyed with you, kneeling down with a groan, knees cracking so he was eye level with your sopping cunt. He pushed his fingers in, two pumping slowly. His other hand pulled your ass apart, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit.

You whined, legs trembling and clenching as he sucked and curled at just the right pace. He always had you coming undone so easily when he wanted, like he knew exactly what to do to make you wild. He did, clearly, playing your body perfectly like it was his guitar.

Your high pitched whiny cries floated towards the ceiling, head tilted back so far you were sure you'd just bend in half. Eddie's free hand caught your release on his fingers, spreading them over your ass hole, circling it gently before barely pushing the tip of his finger in.

You two had plenty of experience with ass play since the first drunken night, a favorable past time for the tow of you. Eddie had bought you toys, trained you up until you could finally take his cock. You loved how good he was at it, too good. You weren't exactly sure how someone could be so good at everything, and when you told Eddie that he laughed, telling you, "been around the sun a few more times than you, baby, I've got some more experience than others."

Your eyes pinched, falling face first into the duvet. The lace of the mask over your eyes rubbed against your lids and forehead when you pressed yourself against the bed, writhing and crying out when he pushed you over the edge again. The sensation of his fingers and tongue on both your holes mixed with your previous orgasm had you cumming quick, gushing around him.

Eddie grinned, standing with a low huff. Your knees were falling underneath you, leaving you spread, nearly rubbing against the duvet. "You ready for your tail, lil bunny?" Eddie asked, popping the top to the tube open. The plug looked small enough he could probably have you stretched out with just two fingers to the knuckle and the lube.

You sighed, whining slightly as you shifted, wiggling your still shaky legs back up into position, Eddie's hand on your waist guiding you back up gently. He ran a hand down back gently, pressing a kiss to space of your spine where the lace of the lingerie and exposed skin met.

Eddie squirted the cold lube making you clench. He cooed softly, trailing kisses down the dip of your spine over your hips, finger circling your tight hole. "You gotta relax, remember?" Eddie cooed when you clenched, pressing a kiss to your hips, his scruff tickling the delicate skin. "You need me to loosen you up a little more?"

You shook your head, dazed and hazy, pushing up on your forearms gently, looking back at him. "'M ready, I promise. 'M ok." You muttered, giving him a small smile.

Eddie returned it, leaning forward to kiss you, hard and deep, teeth clashing. "Fuck, bunny, you're too good to me." He muttered, lips still brushing yours, rubbing his nose to yours.

You looked at him, glassy eyed and dazed already even through the veil he could tell that, lowering your back so your ass arched farther, pressing your face to the side of the mattress. You watched him through the vanity mirror, the low lights of the room illuminating his figure.

Eddie pushed his first finger in, slow and gentle, circling you just expertly to get you ready. You moaned, clenching your legs when you throbbed. Eddie grinned watching you grind down, slowly wiggling back for more before he added the second, getting you nice and loose.

Eddie leaned forward, muttering in your ear little praises while he pushed in the plug, his lips against your lace covered temple. Eddie looked back when you shifted, the little puff of fur plugged in you making the cutest little tail.

"Look at you," Eddie cooed, laughing to himself, he kissed you deeply, wiping his hand on the towel you laid out. "God, baby, stay right there, ok? Arched just like that."

Eddie grabbed his camera, the flash going off rapidly. Eddie was making sure his spank bank would be full for a long time, drooling over you. He tossed his camera carefully, before climbing on top of you.

You twisted, his lips crashing and needy into you, grinding yourself down on his bare, inked leg when he wedged it between you, hands moving down to his boxers. You could feel his cock straining against his black briefs, hard and begging to be released to you.

Eddie moaned onto your mouth when you squeezed him through his underwear, your tiny hands expertly rolling and working him through the fabric. You could feel his pre-cum seeping through the material, leaving a wet patch.

Eddie's hands moved up to your tits, palming them through the material, squeezing and rolling your nipples. You whined, grinding down further on his leg. "Fuck, bunny, I gotta get this off you." Eddie muttered, pushing the straps down to your waist, leaving your top part exposed.

He kissed, sucked, bit all the way down, leaving trails of little bruises and red marks onto your skin. Your neck, collarbones, chest, breasts, tummy. He wanted to kiss every inch of you after you'd done all of this for him.

You whined when he turned you over, hovering so you were on your back, the tail of the plug shifting and moving with the duvet. Eddie pulled you carefully by your waist, brows furrowed slightly. "Here, let me help you out of this alright? I'll be careful."

And he was. So caring and gentle, pulling the straps of the lace down your body, until it was a puddle on the ground. You told him he didn't have to be so careful, but your heart was swelling at the gesture, how sweet he always was to you.

You went to move the ears off, but Eddie stopped you, running a hand down the nape of your neck. "Leave that on, please." He asked, eyes dark and lust blown. You just nodded, mouth salivating when he pulled his boxers down, throwing them next to your lingerie.

He pumped himself, pushing himself to the headboard, leaning lazily against it, lip tucked beneath his teeth. You blushed, squirming under his hungry gaze, slick and throbbing, nails digging into your palms as you shifted from foot to foot.

Eddie grinned. "You gonna show me why you're my bunny, aren't ya?" He asked, cocking a brow. You nodded. Eddie moved his hands, cock freeing from his grasp and lying against his tummy.

You grinned when you climbed on top of him, straddling him gently. "You wanna see my tail while I ride you?" You asked, loving the way his Adam's apple bobbed when you did.

"Fuck, please," Eddie groaned watching you shift, moving so you wiggled your ass in his face, squealing when he cracked a hand down on your cheeks.

"You better ride me good, lil bunny." Eddie warned, gripping your hips. "You want the front page, you better show me how badly you want it."

You giggled, looking over your shoulder, pumping his cock in your hands. "I will, Hef, I promise." You sunk onto him slowly, squeezing his dick the whole way down.

Eddie groaned loudly, grip on your hips tightening when you ground against the hair on his base. "Fuck, fuck, just like that." Eddie groaned when you started circling slowly. You always started slowly like this, working him up before you really rode him.

Then you lifted slowly as you bent forward, gripping Eddie's knees lightly when you lifted off of him, bringing your hips up and down over and over again.

"Fuck bunny, just like that, bounce on my cock, baby. You're just so good aren't you?" Eddie sucked in a breath, hands pulling your cheeks apart so he could get deeper.

The scene in front of him was too much, he was ready to bust already. Your little plug, bouncing and moving, tickling his pelvis with extra deep strokes. Your creamy spend smearing over his cock already, excess from the lube mixing with your slick pussy making the room fill with the squelching sounds.

You could feel his hips meeting yours, squeezing your ass, stroking your tail and moving it so you'd moan deep. You dipped lower, nearly lying between his legs, crouching so you lifted quickly and deeply.

"Fuck, look at you go." Eddie laughed in between a low growl. "You are my little bunny. My perfect little bunny. You just love bouncin' all over my cock, don't you? You'd bounce for hours for me, wouldn't you?"

You whined, his words making you clamp and gush, his cock brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you with the position. "Yes." You cried out. "'M your bunny."

Eddie grit his teeth, coil in his belly getting tighter and tighter with every pump of you around him. "Fuck, bunny, wait," He huffed, chest heaving. "Turn around f'me, ok? Let me see your pretty face."

You stuttered in movements, pushing up with shaky arms, squeezing with him still inside you. You pulled off just for a moment, adjusting yourself carefully so your legs were on either side of Eddie's hips. You lined him back up inside you, sinking down much faster than you did last time.

Your nails dug into Eddie's inked chest, clawing into him when he gripped your ass, hips thrusting up to meet yours. Your mask and ears were starting to slip, you were sweaty on your hairline under the band of the material, but you didn't care. Your hips lifted, slamming back down on him, pressing into his chest with a cry.

You kept your pace, fast and quick, Eddie's hips meeting yours. "Y'a little jack rabbit for me, huh? Bounce and bounce and bounce, look at you." Eddie cooed nearly mocking through grit teeth.

You whimpered, eyes pinching together. You were so close, the coil in your belly growing and growing. "My little bunny just loves to bounce all over my cock, doesn't she? Just my cock, right?" Eddie growled. You nodded, whimpering. Your thighs burned, but the burning in your belly was worse, hungrier. You slammed faster, desperate to chase that high that you were so close to.

Eddie was close, teetering on the edge, but he wanted you to finish first, you always finished first with him. "Look at me." Eddie grit, hand finding your jaw, holding it lightly. He moved the veil up when your eyes met his, seeing your rounded, desperate eyes, glazed over and nearly teary.

"Y'gonna cum? Cum all over my cock? Yeah? Go ahead, you earned it, bunny." Eddie grunted, lifting his own hips to meet yours, punishing pace meeting yours.

You cried when his calloused thumb circled your clit, nearly falling on top of him with how your legs shook. Eddie held your hips, fucking up into you. He didn't mind the burn forming in his lower back, especially not when he emptied himself in you, warm, thick ropes spurting deep inside of you.

Your chest heaved together, his breath, your exhale, sharp and desperate. It was like you were sharing breaths with each other, and maybe you were. Sticky, sweaty skin, hot and molted together. You slid further into his lap, the top of his thighs, Eddie's hands moving to cradle you instinctively.

Your ears were around your neck, still tied but fallen to hang off your shoulder. Your plug was sticky with his cum when he pulled out, wetting the bottom of the faux fur. Your face was on his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear, his rough hands on your back.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Small shallowed breaths, deep sighs, little groans. You looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on the top of your head. His hands untied your ears, unraveling the ribbon so it fell beside you. He grinned down at you.

You blinked up at him, swirling with emotions and warmth. "Did I make the cover, Mr. Hefner?" You grinned.

Eddie snorted a laugh, stretching to grab the developed polaroids on the bed side table. "You sure did, bunny." Eddie smirked, showing a rather vulgar photo of you, arched with the plug in your ass, pussy shining from the flash, and ears high over your ass. "This right here? This one's the cover."

You laughed, pushing up on his chest, moving so you hovered over him. He looked at you, gooey and lovestruck, pushing a hair behind your ear. "Thanks f'dressing up with me." You smiled.

Eddie gawked lightly. "I think I should be thanking you." He chuckled. "Thank you for dressing up for me." You giggled, his lips capturing yours sweetly.

Eddie pulled back, nose to nose with you. You could see his wrinkles, the grey hairs in his temple and in his eyebrows. His skin showing signs of age, freckles from time in the sun. His beard was scruffy, a little longer than usual but trimmed. You ran your hand down it, trailing your thumb over his bottom lip.

"You're my best bunny, you know that?" Eddie whispered.

You pulled back, raising a brow. "Best? I better be your only bunny, Mr. Munson." You looked at him carefully.

Eddie smirked. "So I'm not Mr. Hefner anymore?" He asked playfully. You shook your head. "Good. That motherfucker wasn't nearly as lucky as I am."

You howled in laughter, blushing and rolling your eyes at the cheesy line. Eddie helped remove your plug, cleaning you up gently in the bathroom, soft kisses and little giggles echoed through the space. You pushed the top sheet off, hoisting it to the laundry room to deal with tomorrow, Eddie bringing in two spare blankets from the linen closet.

He smelled like the cigarette he'd been smoking outside, the comforting scent lulling you to sleep, while Eddie snored beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, heavy like weights on you but comforting.

2K notes · View notes

sluttsumu · 1 year

Text

THEIR FAV SLUTTY COSTUMES

.ೃ࿐ feat. various characters (haikyuu, bllk, jjk)

in which: halloween is the one night a year a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girl can say anything about it.

warnings: 18+ mdni, mature themes, mentions of: knifeplay, corruption if you blink really fast

.ೃ࿐ ki’s note: here’s my surprise bonus for my kinktober! headcannons are very close to my heart so i had to make something sexy for one of my fav “holidays”.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ kinktober masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ THE PLAYBOY BUNNY

listen…it’s a fucking classic and you look so sexy. the ears, the corseted bodysuit, the bow tie, it’s all just a turn on and he can’t wait to take it off of you when you get home. it’s unbearable, he’s been teasing you with that stupid little nickname all night, “c’mon bunnie, let’s have some fun..”

— GOJO ( he’s hugh hefner), geto, kuroo, atsumu, shidou, bachira

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ A BARBIE DOLL

what a doll! you look absolute perfect. pretty hair, pretty clothes, pretty pussy, he knows that he has the prettiest girl in the party hands down. whether your a natural blonde or not (613 included) he wants to tug on those goldie locks tonight from the back if you’ll let him.

— miya twins (atsumu is literally ken) , iwaizumi, SUNA, itoshi brothers, kaiser, gojo again because he’s ken pt 2, bokuto

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ MRS. GHOSTFACE

oh you wanna play psycho killer? he’ll gladly be your helpless victim. bonus points if you wear fishnets while you ride him with a knife to his throat. he’s not sure if he wants to cum or die but either at your hands is acceptable.

— suna, kageyama, MEGUMI, nagi, kunigami, rin

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ CAT(WOMAN)

he’s busting out of the fucking seems seeing you in this full latex bodysuit and mask, this whole sexy dominatrix looks really suits you. you’re on the prowl kitty, (into his pants he hopes). bonus if you have stiletto nails that can claw at his back.

— NANAMI, choso, barou, KUROO DUH, kita too

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ AN ANGEL

look at you, innocent little thing in all white. though dressed as a symbol of purity his thoughts are rather…unholy. he just wants to taint you, colour you red. he’s most definitely wearing a devil costume, making to two of you a very sinful duo.

— suna, OSAMU, kenma, SHIDOU, kaiser, YUJI, akaashi, oikawa

981 notes · View notes

lovers-rck · 9 months

Text

summary where you and ellie go to a halloween party and end up in a tiny bathroom with an angel and a sick bunny.

theme friends with benefits

hiiiii this is my comeback to writing. i swear. or not. i don't know. im just happy to be back at this !! anyways enjoy

i don't know why but while writing this i pictured the saltburn costume kind of party (just the aesthetic)

☆

it all started like a month ago, in the halloween party.

"is this okay?" she asks, her hands caressing slightly your breasts over the fabric

you chuckle, embarrassed "yes" you see how ellie's face is covered in a blue and violet light "you can take my band if you want"

"sure" she murmurs, her hands grabbing the "prom queen" band and throwing it off to the floor.

the cold tiles of the wall meet your back, the sudden change of temperature making you shiver. handmade costumes dance on the dance floor, fake blood and poor imitations are present in the night.

upstairs, in a tiny and so-well-decorated bathroom you can hear your own breath get heavier as you feel ellie's fingertips play with your covered breast. she leaves wet kisses in your neck, shy but hungry.

ellie can't decide which was the moment when she realized that something was about to happen. later in the week she would think, ¿was when she catch you looking at her lips? ¿or when you "accidentally" touched her ass while dancing to ABBA? and she would think and think so much that her brain will start deteriorating.

but what she knows now is that she is having the time of her life.

"you have such nice tits" ellie's mouth says before she could stop herself

you laugh, a fake spider web in the wall tickling your face "thanks"

ellie nods and lick your neck, her tongue tasting your salty and perfumed skin. you whimper as she continues assaulting your skin, sucking and kissing and sucking again.

your hand grab her head while you think of for how long you been ignorant of your friend's mouth and her abilities.

your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror, a very stylish spiderman suit and a bloody carrie making out in the tiniest bathroom of all times.

"i think i gave you a hickey" ellie says, a thread of saliva dangling as she moves away, her lips shiny "i can't really see with these lights"

"i'm glad you're so committed to your spider costume that you have to bite me" you joke and she rolls her eyes

"i'm spiderman, not a simple spider you idiot"

you roll your eyes at her. it pass a few seconds until you talk again "do you think it will be weird if i kiss you?"

"don't think so" she says, placing the hair behind her ear "no weirder than giving you a hickey"

"yeah but isn't kissing more intimate?"

"only if you make it more intimate" ellie says as she fix your plastic crown "a lot of friends kiss eachothers"

"yeah?"

she nods

"it's just a kiss" she replies "it doesn't have to mean anything"

you nod "right" you lick your own lips "we can be that type of friends"

"yeah, totally" ellie swallows "we can"

so you kiss her. and it's feels warm and wet.

ellie grabs you by the jaw quickly, taking the power. her grip is strong and the moment you moan in her mouth you want to punch yourself in the face.

"you were dying for me to kiss you huh?" she teases you, her breath hits your wet lips as she speaks

you could feel her confident starting to grow "in your dreams"

"i do other things to you in my dreams"

before you could react, ellie's lips are over yours again. your agitated breath echo in between hungry kisses, floating around the curious hands and hot skin.

but when ellie's hands are in the hem of your shirt, you hear a loud knock on the door.

"i"ll be out in a minute" you shout and push ellie away. she lean back against the sink, agitated.

"she's about to throw up!" a girl yells from the other side of the door "open up now!"

you grimace at ellie and she opens the door.

a plastic feathered angel and a playboy bunny quickly interrupt in the bathroom at the same time as the bunny vomits an almost neon green liquid over the toilet.

"let it all out" the angel says to the bunny "i told you you shouldn't accept tyler's drink from fight club"

ellie raises her eyebrows as she admires the scene, you notice how her lips are swollen and her hair is messy.

"are you going to stand there and watch?" the angel says as she holds the bunny's hair "it's not a fucking show"

"jesus" you say

"uh, sorry" ellie mumbles, awkward "goodbye"

the angel's words of encouragement to her bunny-friend become meaningless once you and ellie leave the bathroom. the loud music hits you one more time as you come back to the dance floor where sweaty bodies glow under the neon lights.

#ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic

232 notes · View notes

fandomwritingbit · 11 months

Text

👻Hallowe'en Special👻

Ghosting.

Michael Afton x fem!reader.

Synop: After being abandoned by a friend at a stellar Halloween party, reader hooks up with someone in a Ghostface costume... turns out to be Michael Afton. This is a very distant sequel to Hateful with both Mike and reader being arseholes with an enemies to lovers thing going on.

Warnings: drinking, swearing, horniness, smut, public sex.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight for months. A friend of a friend spread the word about their ‘killer halloween party’ almost as soon as August rolled around and rumours of fancy dress, live music and drinking games followed suit. It sounded like just what you needed to perk you up after weeks of studying.

And now, looking at your costume laid on your bed, you can’t help but grin, it’s cheesy and a little old-fashioned, but hey, if it ain’t broke…

You’ve spent much too long getting it just right, using several sharpies, glitter and lipstick to perfect the face on your blanket, huge eyelashes on top of your eye cut-outs and big pouting lips. A fucking perfect, tarted-up blanket ghost. You complete the set-up with a pair of fishnets and chunky heels, unable to hold in your giggles when you check out the outfit in your mirror.

“Oh my god, you look crazy.” Your friend Gemma laughs, looking at herself in the reflection next to you, her playboy bunny costume a much more basic choice than yours. One could argue a more sensible one too, because you'd had to layer up so all your secrets couldn't be exposed by one big gust of wind.

“Yeah, crazy hot.” You put your hands on your hips and pose, both of you tittering like schoolgirls. It is funny, but you’re aware that the pre-drinks you’ve had are probably making it seem funnier than it is.

Your friend grabs a jacket and slings it over her shoulders, gesturing with her head that it’s time to go. “Can you even see anything?” She asks as you join her outside, looking at you sceptically as you turn around to lock your apartment door, missing the keyhole on the first try.

If she could see your face, your eye rolling would be very evident. “Yeah. I know what I’m doing.” You bring your hands to the lips of the blanket, “I even cut a hole so I can stick a straw through.” Showing her by sticking your tongue through the gap, though quickly cringing at the feeling and taste of the fabric.

“Oooh, she’s prepared.” Gemma says sarcastically, before putting a hand on your shoulder and all but forcing you to get a move on, you don’t want to be more than fashionably late after all.

One giggly taxi ride later, you and her are struggling to get out of the car without flashing anyone. And then, you're heading up the front steps to the house, where the party is already in the swing of things. A werewolf sits next to an inflatable flamingo on the steps, one smoking, the other vaping, you’re admiring their costumes when you realise the wolf is a lad from your tutor, so you stop to tell him how amazing he looks.

“Come on, y/n.” Your friend again takes your arm, her voice faux-whining. “We haven’t even got drinks yet, you can mingle in a second.”

You let her guide you, though not without a sharp glare, quickly turning to the wolf before you go, “See you later, Joe!”

As you step away, she grins at you, almost knocking over a witch’s drink sitting beside her on the top step. “Really gushing over Hoe-seph, huh?” She wiggles her eyebrows, her tone a little condescending.

You can’t help but laugh, “Shut up, you knob.” you nudge her, making her wobble on her huge heels. “You’ve got to admit he looks great.”

She scoffs in response. “Sure, he does. But it’s fucking Joe! We can do better tonight.”

…

So much for that, you think to yourself as you sip probably the cheapest lager you’ve ever tried through a curly straw. Not even an hour after you and her had arrived, she’d found a group of people she knew from law studies and buggered off with them. Right now, you can see her bunny ears peeking over the crowd and swaying slightly to the music.

You probably should have anticipated being on your lonesome.

Though that doesn’t make it any less shit.

“You alright, y/n? You here all on your own?” Someone you recognise talks loudly over the music, pulling you out of your silent thought.

You sigh, though they probably can’t hear the extent of it. “Yeah… Gemma pulled her signature move and left me in the dust.” You try to explain, having to repeat the words twice before they understand. When they do, their expression shifts in pity and they put a hand on your shoulder.

“Awww, come drink with us then, screw her.” You pull a face as you consider, before nodding and following them over to the kitchen where they and six others stand around an island drinking. It’s much brighter in there with the big lights on and you blink after being so used to the muted multi-colour lights of the living room.

Your new buddy catches your reaction. “Hey, don’t let the light sober you up. What are you drinking?” They ask, and man, you really need to buck up and ask their name.

“Uhh… whatever this is.” You twist the bottle around so they can see the label and their expression instantly reveals disapproval. Which you completely understand.

“You want another one of them?” A bloke standing next to the fridge pipes up, who you'll come to learn is called Ash.

“...Not really.” You admit and they laugh.

“Vod and coke?” Your saviour prompts with a huge bottle of smirnoff in their hand and you beam under your costume.

“Now we’re talking.”

As enjoyable as the change in drink was, it didn’t take much for it to take effect and pretty soon you’re hanging off the arm of someone you've just formed a strong drunken friendship with, and singing along to someone’s halloween playlist.

The drunkenness itself wasn’t so bad, everyone else was too and surprisingly this group was an excellent match of personalities. The main problem was that drink makes you horny. Like seriously horny. Horny enough to scan these people for a viable and interested partner. But you swiftly realise the seven of you are made up of two couples, someone that doesn't date girls and that Ash guy.

You struggle to think of who around could be your hook up. Yes, you could go find your werewolf friend, or his flamingo buddy, but that doesn’t feel too appealing.

“I’m gonna go outside… I want to smoke.” You try not to slur your words, and pat the arm of the person that led you to this drunken safe haven as you walk, or rather stumble, past. The struggle is real, especially in these heels, but you manage it. Squeezing through masses of guests and trying not to get decked by tipsy people dancing, some of them shouted sorrys at you, others stared after your form like you were in the wrong.

The cool night air was pleasant and you soak it all in as you check faces around. You recognise lots of people even through costumes but you know them too well for a quick drunken hook up, and there's no need to make your social circles awkward. But, god, you’re thirsting.

Moving down the steps and being really careful not to slip, you pull a packet of cigarettes out from under your blanket, the box warm from being pressed against your skin for so long. Then you go down the side of the house, flinching when a motion-sensor light kicks into life and illuminates the path in a dingy yellow light. It’s like the party doesn’t exist back here, the noise completely dying when you turn the corner into the back garden.

And that’s when you see him. Some guy in a full Ghostface get-up, one glove pulled up to let him scroll through his Instagram feed. You can’t help but grin under your covering, you have a special place in your heart for Ghostface, the movie one of your favourites for many reasons. Not all of them wholesome.

Placing the cigarette through the slit in your costume, you light up. Taking yourself over to slasher and standing beside him.

“Uhh hey…” He turns to you tilting his head, no doubt trying to figure out who you were under your mask and failing. “That costume is-”

You smirk as you cut him off, “Amazing? I know. Proving to be a little inconvenient though.”

“Yeah I’ll bet. Do I know you?” You make a humming noise, trying to decide if you want to know who he is. There’s something really hot about the anonymity of it, hell you can play with the idea of a Matthew Lillard or Skeet Ulrich under there. And just the thought of that spurs you on immensely.

“I’m not sure. But there’s fun in that.” The guy nods, but you can imagine a look of confusion under that sexy mask. You’re not usually this bold, but liquid courage and boredom can make anyone risqué.

The two of you fall silent for a moment, before you break it teasingly, “Well, aren’t you going to ask me?”

Ghostface scoffs in hesitation before he bites the lure. “Ask you what?”

You dramatically place a hand on your chest as you pretend to gasp. “... The Question. From the movie, you know, the one Ghostface is famous for?”

“Ohh.” he laughs as he catches on. A hand digging in his robe for a small black device that looks like a radio. He holds it up to the mask and does as you ask, “... What’s your favourite scary movie?” The voice changer is scarily movie accurate, that iconic voice that is the perfect mixture of terrifying and ridiculously hot.

You gasp for real this time, losing yourself in giggles, “That is awesome, holy shit.” You move a little closer, deciding that yeah, you want to test the waters with this fella. “Scream…” You answer, “Because I think Ghostface is really hot.”

The flirtation in your tone isn’t hard to miss and although he’s surprised you just walked up to him and staked a claim, he certainly isn’t complaining. “Yeah?”

You nod, alcohol making you brave enough to lay all your cards on the table. You lift up the hem of your blanket slowly to show him how good your upper thighs look in these fishnets. “You interested?”

He laughs, “Hell yeah.”

Right there against the back of the house you pull the sheet up over your hips and your little shorts down, grinning in excitement as you watch him pull his gloves off and set about doing the same. He tries to help you take the fishnets down, but at this point you just hook your fingers into the holes and rip them enough to allow him access to your slick seam. “Fuck.” he breaths when his fingers come into contact with your wetness. How the hell has he gotten this lucky tonight?

The vodka in your veins doesn’t let you feel the cold, right now there’s nothing you want more than a good fuck and you hope that whoever is gripping your hips right now can do that for you. And judging by how quickly he finds your clit and begins to slowly rub circles, he absolutely can.

It’s clumsy, but exactly what you want and pretty soon you’re arching your back and pulling at the waistband of his boxers. You free his cock and he’s delightfully big and thick in your hands, so much so that you have to commend yourself, you really picked a good one here. Your hurried grabbing of his dick pushes him to press into you, hands cupping under your behind and lifting you to his perfect angle. It’s unexpected and you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, leaving him to slide his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick, before pressing firmly inside you.

“Shit-” You hiss instantly, a buzz in your core becoming apparent at the gorgeous feeling of him filling you up. You move your hips against him as much as you can, spurring him on to a rough pace of fucking in and out of you. Neither of you consider that you’re completely exposed, lewdly hooking up outside next to someone’s house, anyone could come round the back and catch the two of you but that’s the furthest thing from your mind.

His grunts match the pace that’s quickly bringing both of you to your ends, gradually becoming whiny as he tries to make you come before finishing, but your tight walls are making that fairly difficult, as are the sweet sounds he’s pulling from you. He doesn’t realise how close you are and so the second he again starts to stroke your clit, the waves of your climax hit you hard. Your pussy sporadically tightens around him as you cum, your head tilting back against the wall and just like that he has to pull out, his release immediately hot and sticky on the top of your thighs. He thrusts into his hand as he finishes, groans dripping from his lips.

By now you’re recovered enough to be annoyed that he’s covered your lower body in cum and you push against him to get him off of you. He obeys and leans against the wall next to you, both of you staring forward for a moment of realisation. How the Hell are you supposed to go back in there with this costume fucking sticking to you? God, you probably should have discussed logistics beforehand but hindsight is 20/20, huh? Your still tipsy brain nearly laughs at the situation but stops when the bloke next to you starts shifting in his costume, grabbing at his mask in an almost panicky way.

He manages to pry it off and closes his eyes for a moment. The very moment he does you practically jump 30 feet in the air. A gross knowledge snapping through you so fast, you swear you touch all five bases on the grief scale. Your Ghostface was fucking Michael. Michael Pissing Afton. “Oh. Fucking Christ.” You snap out of nowhere, making Mike flinch.

“Woah, what? What’s wrong?” Your reaction is so strong he thinks you must be in pain of something and swiftly turns towards you, hands hovering over you like you were about to hit the deck.

You neglect to answer him, just angrily pulling the blanket up and tearing it off your form with an exasperated sigh. Only Michael Afton could make you completely sober in the span of two seconds.

He watches with wide eyes and almost winces when he reaches the same conclusion you did. “Y/n?” He laughs a little in surprise, still staring as you toss your costume on the floor and stand there in the tiniest shorts and top going. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You scoff, “I didn’t fucking know, did I?” You say loudly, the silence following it deafening. Honest to God, how didn’t you realise sooner? You definitely should recognise him from your fling nearly a year ago- must be the alcohol, but still, if you’d have known you probably would have shopped around a bit before settling for Michael Fucking Afton.

A stupid smug smirk coats his lips, that pinch between your brows is just funny. He speaks through a chuckle, “I actually can’t believe it’s you… How’re you doing, it’s been a while?”

The sharp gaze you fix him with just makes him laugh harder. “Yeah, that was intentional.”

And there was that side of you that got on his last nerve, props to your attitude for being able to ruin a perfectly good shag. “Why are you pissed off? You came on to me.” He asks the questions incredulously, his tone irritating.

“Huh, bet that’s a first.” You retort, a condescending smile increasing tenfold when he scowls.

How in the name of all that is holy did this happen?

A/n: Hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for the next one xxx

#fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton x you #michael afton smut #FWB's halloween event #fnaf smut

306 notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 18 days

Note

For each lewd costume described, choose a girl group who'd wear them as matching outfits:

Colorful micro bikinis.

Playboy bunny suits.

Baggy tshirt, thighhigh socks and nothing less.

Lacey lingerie with matching thighhigh stockings, garter belt and evening gloves.

Denim minishorts, thin tank top, getting and pushup bra.

Cropped Japanese school girl costume with cute panties and no bra.

Completely naked except for extensive body jewelry.

(Google anything you need to visualize)

Ooh interesting, lots of options here. It reqlly made me think.

Micro bikini- On one hand, I'm tempted to go with Twice, but there are better options for them. So, in the end, I choose (G)i-dle

Bunny suit- Twice, I think that it would be a godsend to see them like that. It shows off nice legs and the booba.

Tshirt and thigh highs- Give me Itzy. I'm drooling at the thought of Chaeryeong like that.

Lingerie- This is probably the toughest to choose, because it is rather sexual by nature. I'll go with Aespa. It seems like a solid decision.

Minishorts, tanktop, and pushup- Viviz, I want to see all of them and this outfit helps provide that.

Cropped Uniform with panties and no bra- Kiss of Life. Imagine Julie and Natty like that, it's so hot.

Naked with jewelry- Girls Generation, I guess. Honestly this one doesn't interest me too much but yeah, I think they could rock it.

41 notes · View notes

be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Big Bunny

Playboy Bunny Reader x Elvis on the Playboy jet request

it might be 3:30am here, i may have work today at 9 and i may have to proof read over this again tomorrow but still, here, have a bunny themed fic - very apt for a slightly (at least for where i am) belated good friday gift (for those who celebrate and a spring themed passover/ramadan/weekend gift for everyone else) !!

I genuinely did not expect to end up doing nearly as much research for this as I did - and therefore there ended up being significantly more back story than I anticipated for what I had planned to be a short smutty one shot lol so… here’s a p ridiculous 9.8k fill xx

pairing: jet bunny reader x 1973-4 elvis (yes we are going that specific this time) - early big daddy era.

summary: freshly hired shy new playboy bunny reader and elvis get up to some fun away from the other passengers on Hugh Hefner's private plane, the aptly named 'Big Bunny'.

warnings: 18+, 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (v receiving), lil bit of fingering, gratuitous use of the term 'bunny' and all accompanying euphemisms, elvis (as always in my writing) refers to himself as daddy.

wc: 9.8k

You nervously adjust your scarf around your neck; it’s windy, and you’re worried about your hair—that its carefully styled easy look might be ruined by the breeze. You roll from one foot to the other in anticipation; you can already feel the leather of the new, tall boot starting to rub behind your knee, and you’re hopeful for the chance to switch it out for your regular heels on board. The other girls are quiet, and that’s how you can tell that they too are nervous or excited—anticipatory perhaps. Usually, they would be chattering away right now—at least, that’s your experience from the last few flights you’d worked. But for some reason, the knowledge of this special guest had made them all fall silent, worrying their scarves or hair, and checking one another’s lipsticks, even more so than when Hugh was on board. Perhaps it was, like the Bunny bible said, because there was the knowledge that you were all representatives of the brand, and that was even more true for someone who wasn’t the owner of the brand, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t just any boring old investor but Elvis Presley flying on board today.

You’re all too young to remember much of him in his early prime or his dizzying launch to success, but you know that every girl in this line-up had watched the ’68 special, probably at a similar formative age to you, and had an experience; it had been impossible not to. You had been on the cusp of being 16 and were utterly gobsmacked and captivated by the television set as you watched him gyrate in a full black leather suit. Your mind had gone blank, and you couldn’t have told anyone what your father had said about it—you honestly couldn’t hear him because you were so shocked and excited by what you were seeing. Suddenly, you understood. You’d all discussed the marvel of the possibilities of the use of the satellites for the Aloha show only a few months ago, and you knew you weren’t the only bunny in the group who still found him almost alarmingly attractive. The concept, therefore, of being loaned out to him with the plane made you more than a little nervous. Another fragment of your anxiety for this flight also revolved around your new uniform—you weren’t comfortable in it yet; a teeny leatherette dress that somehow seemed far more revealing than your corset had ever seemed. Perhaps because it felt less like a costume in some way, perhaps because it simply was so unlike anything you would wear in day-to-day life—the over-the-knee boots were uncomfortable still too.

It’s unclear how you’d become so attached to the little corset costume when you were still so new to the plane and to this life as a whole. You’d been well-trained and ready to use your newfound, extensive bar knowledge while working as a table bunny in the club in LA. Although you had hoped that you might be spotted and bumped up to a more senior position in a little while—that one day you might be able to work your way up to the mansion or maybe even be handpicked to be a playmate—it all seemed so glamorous, and the attention was so exciting. You’d never dreamed you would, after only working a month, be handpicked as a jet bunny. It had been one of the most exciting moments of your life. Since then, you’ve not been flying for very long, although the training had been intense and your first flight had only been two weeks ago. And it had been a pretty slow start, with just Hugh and a couple of colleagues on board. They had their favourites, and while you had been chatted to and flirted with—treated well—you had also been mostly ignored.

Elvis, as far as you could tell, didn’t have favourites; he hadn’t requested anyone in particular from the thirty or so girls on regular rotation for the jet, and it made you relieved to think that you were on a mostly even keel with the other girls. You’d gossiped about it as you packed your bags onto the plane before you’d all ended up where you were now: standing in a row waiting for him to pull up, having been given word that he was mere minutes away. When you looked down at the other girls, you couldn’t help but wonder why, as one man with a small entourage for the flight, he really needed the bunny equivalent of five stewardesses. But, you think to yourself, at least he did because, as the most junior of the bunch, you definitely would have been the first to be bumped from the flight.

It’s only another few minutes until his long, sleek, white Cadillac pulls up in front, another car close behind, and his long legs are immediately sliding out of the car, almost before its even come to a complete stop. He seems eager to be away. He’s arguing with someone and barely acknowledges any of you as he starts to storm up the stairs towards the jet entrance—clearly familiar with the plane already. It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t arguing with someone physically with him but was instead recounting what had been discussed on the phone in the car—you could hear him swearing as he went inside,

"I fuckin’ asked her to come out here with me, and now she’s being all cold, just then she was sayin’ she don’t wanna see me -" You can’t hear anything more, and you look down the row before Darla in front shrugs her shoulders and starts greeting the other couple of men still coming out of the car, and in the car behind, there were around a dozen guys in total, no women other than you five, which wasn’t unusual on the jet but wasn't entirely expected either.

A moment later, Elvis is hurrying back down the stairs, panting slightly as he comes. He arrives back in front of you, the last in line, with a series of apologies.

"Lord, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, girls. Hello, nice to meet ya; well, aren’t you all pretty little things?" You blush, and he catches your eye, winking at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He smiles at the rest of them, and Darla launches into her ‘Welcome to Big Bunny’ spiel as she directs him back up the way he just came. Your mind is racing as you follow them all up the stairs, and you’re more than a little distracted as you close the door and conduct the safety checks. Does that mean something? That he singled you out?

You weren’t meant to be his main assistant; of course, the main focus for today was keeping him happy, but you’d been specifically told that your purpose was to make sure the other passengers felt that they were getting similar attention. You didn’t have the experience, as Darla had told you, to understand how to deal with men like him. Those that think they’re special or that just because you’re wearing a bunny outfit they have some sort of claim on you, that you’re all the same and your centrefold is owed to them. And also, she’d flippantly added, you were still very inexperienced, and first and foremost she had to consider the brand. Now as you watch her take his arm up the stairs, you think you might be understanding her motivations a little more; her hips swaying more than they usually would. But you can’t say you blame her or that her other observations were wrong. You were inexperienced, both in flying and with men. But, as you’re locking the door shut and heading around to fetch towels and drinks before the pilots engage the engine, you can feel his eyes on you, and you think, I know what that means.

It’s a pretty long flight for a domestic flight—four or five hours, depending on the route the pilot takes—so you have plenty of time to get to know the passengers and ensure they’re all well taken care of. You’ve heard rumours from some of the other girls that this kind of flight can often go one of two ways: either the men are rowdy, raucous, and handsy, or they’re quiet, appreciative, but distant. You had assumed Elvis and his entourage would be the former, but from the way he quickly gets himself situated and settled in the forward compartment, you’re inclined to believe it will be the latter. You can’t help but notice he’s sequestered himself in the back; a couple of the men are with him, but the rest are a series of seats away. It seems like even the inner circle has an inner circle.

Before serving the drinks, you have a chance to look over at him. Trying to be inconspicuous, you’re surprised at how large he is. You’ve never realised how tall he really is, but he’d remained a few inches taller than you even in your heels, and while the plane is more spacious and furnished less compactly than the average, it still serves to make him seem bigger in contrast to the environment. He seems to take up more space than his body needs too, like his presence needs allowance; he looks incapable of staying on one seat, and the way he spreads his legs, his knees falling open, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he might be taking up more than his fair share of space.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there, peering behind a partition wall, pretty much directly at his spread thighs. Until you move your eyes up, tracking up his body past his famously large belt to his open collared shirt, through which you can see tiny wisps of chest hair peeking through. You assess how his shirt is lying on him, clinging but well-tailored, and his trousers too, tight around his thighs and well-fitted on his waist but equally well-tailored, looking comfortable and well-fitted. Your eyes continue to roam over him until they come to rest on his face, and you realise he’s been watching you look at him. He’s smirking at you, clearly used to the attention but perhaps still flattered that he inspires it, and winks through his lavender-coloured glasses. You immediately duck back, taking a moment to gather yourself from the embarrassment of being caught out, before heading back out with the first tray of drinks.

It wasn’t your place to be, but you couldn’t help but be pleased when he showed himself not to be the type to start demanding wildly complicated cocktails—in fact, rolling his eyes when one of the men, Red, perhaps his name was, asked for a mai tai—and at his clear desire to remain sober, simply requesting a Pepsi. You take a breath, plastering your customer service smile on, determined to ignore any embarrassment, and swing around with the tray. Praying you don’t trip or spill anything in front of him.

Thankfully, you make it around without consequence, your thorough club training coming into play and keeping you steady even when there’s a mild bump as the plane engines start to roar. He grins up at you when you hand him the drink, and you can’t help but return it, beaming at him, forgetting your practised coquettish expression. You have to head back, sit down for a moment while the pilots announce your takeoff, and try not to grimace, knowing that your face can be seen from the compartment, at the feeling of taking off. You’re fine in the air, but that whooshing feeling of the plane jetting forward and up, the moment where you can feel the balance of the wings against the air as the engine battles its way up, still sends a wave of anxiety over you. Maggie brushes her hand over yours where it lies on the little armrest between the steward seats, and you thankfully grasp it, taking deep breaths. Once the pilot has announced you are officially flying and will be for approximately four more hours, you’re pleased you can finally stand up again and relax somewhat.

You’re not really needed for much for a little while, so you bounce about, chatting and keeping them company, talking with some of the other girls as you help to serve more drinks and food, and setting up the games tables when asked. Elvis has demanded the theatre be set up, so you arrange that, praying that when you return to the room he’ll have picked one of the latest cinematic releases and not, as you feared, one of the many adult releases available. You’re not sure you could keep a straight face if you had to watch him watch Deep Throat; it would just be too much to bear.

So you’ve avoided the lounge by staying in the forward compartment and helping the men there. Before you were sent on a mission to see if there was any peanut butter on board, a special request had apparently been made, but whether it had been complied with was yet to be seen. When Michelle, one of the more senior girls, suddenly appeared beside you, grabbing your arm and speaking in a hurried, hushed tone, she told you that you really ought to change. You panic for a second that something was wrong with your dress, but she’s quick to assure you that it was nothing like that. But Elvis had taken her aside and mentioned that although he "love[s] your yittle skirts, like yer spies or somethin’," he was "missin’ them little bunny outfits" and had left that with her. He hadn’t specifically requested anyone should change, but she’d successfully read between the lines of the very obvious hint and was, therefore, suggesting that you, Daisy, and Maggie change into your bunny corsets. You’d all planned for this possibility, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you were still slightly surprised. You’d not been given the impression that Elvis had been that bothered by the theme of the plane, of you, but rather was utilising the plane for the luxury and convenience of the travelling experience. But if he was requesting your bunny outfits, clearly he was more into it than you thought.

It’s not long after that you do as requested and emerge from the powder room in your little patented corset teddy, the black silk highlighting your complexion and the little collar and bow emphasising your neckline. You were slightly annoyed that despite your careful packing, your little cottontail puff had been flattened, and so you’d had to spend way too long fluffing it to bring it back to life. This also meant that you were the last to emerge, and there was no way you could deny noticing that Elvis himself was sitting back in the forward compartment, turned so that he was practically facing the powder room door, watching you exit with a satisfied smirk on his face. You try to ignore him, listening to the conversations happening around you and trying to anticipate everyone’s needs. In your absence, more substantial snacks have been served, and you can see the remnants of some sort of peanut butter sandwich situation dotted around the room, so clearly that had been found too. There’s now a discussion happening about whether you should turn on the lights in the disco room or wait a little while to eat first. Eventually, it’s decided a proper meal is imperative at some point in the flight, but that right now? They wanted music.

So you all move down the plane. You end up walking directly behind Elvis, and when the plane bumps up and down briefly in the tiniest spot of turbulence, you trip into his back. You right yourself with help from one of his arms, apologising, but you’re flustered. It’s only worse when he turns to you.

"No need to be sorry, doll; you can fall into my arms whenever you like." It was one thing to imagine how he felt, but to be able to remember the feel of him, even from behind, even from just a brief moment of contact, was a heady feeling. Especially when he felt just as you’d imagined he would—soft but firm and broad. So broad. Walking behind him like this also made you nervous for another reason: it made you feel as if your movement down towards the intimate bedroom quarters at the end might be signalling something. The cosiness of the rooms between -- the disco and the lounge, perhaps reflective of the internal struggle you’re facing; the disco the butterflies in your belly.

You know you won’t be able to prevent meeting his eye again. The thought worries you; you’ve been around attractive men before, of course, but never one that, just by looking at him once, has made you feel like you would risk giving up everything for a few hours of fun. Lose everything you have simply for the pleasure of touching him. Maybe this was what Darla was concerned about; you can see her glance over to you every now and again, checking in, and you can tell she’s a little bothered by something.

Once you’re in the disco, the girls and you are well-practised at setting it all up, making sure there are enough tracks ready to be played and that there was easy access to free-flowing drinks and bar snacks. You’re also all very used to essentially having to start the dancing yourselves, having to encourage the others to join in despite their enthusiasm in suggesting the disco. You hang back slightly, holding a tray, when Elvis lightly grasps your elbow. You jump, having not seen him come to your side, and look questioningly at him.

"Dance for me, baby?" You’re not a stripper or a go-go dancer or anything like that, but it’s not a request that’s unheard of in the clubs. And you enjoy it; you wouldn’t be in the job if you didn’t get a slight thrill from being looked at, watched, wanted. So it’s easy to agree, especially when you’ve always found it hard to ignore a man when he adds a pet name, and besides, you want to. So you do. Elvis sits himself down, and a few of the men join in, and you and Maggie and Daisy all dance around them. You prance and shimmy, and soon most of the passengers onboard are dancing around to the music that plays from the surround system.

The group cheered and laughed when Burning Love was played on the 8-track, and Elvis sang along, laughing and joking when he missed one of the high notes ("God almighty, that’s high"). You notice that after a while Elvis has disappeared back into the living area and looks like he might be close to nodding off; sat there with his head back. You suppose he must be tired—you don’t know what he was doing prior to the flight this afternoon, but you do know he was coming off of the back of a week straight of shows and heading towards another one. You again know it’s not your place, and yet you still can’t help feeling like you ought to check on him.

You head over, leaning over, and crouching in the way you’re told to, almost in a bunny dip. He blinks up at you when you touch his shoulder.

"Lord, you’re a vision." You’re taken aback and can’t do much more than crouch there, stuck in place. "Talk with me, honey?" He pats your arm, and you nod, standing upright again and looking for a place to perch. There’s nowhere for you to sit down, or perch, few seats as there were in this living area, attached to the disco, and with the other men and girls also collapsing around you, you awkwardly look around for a moment before Elvis’ hand comes out and wraps around your thigh, pulling you down onto his lap.

"Oh!" You gasp, "Oh, I—I, uh, don’t think you’re meant to touch me, sir."

"Bunny, for the next three hours, I own you." He chuckles but removes his hands from your legs, although he makes no attempt to shift you from his lap, instead sitting further back, causing you to fall more securely onto his lap. You avoid what is sure to be judging looks from the other girls as they hand him drinks and chat with the other boys on board. You’re wrong about them watching you and judging you; of course, all the other girls are distracted, and even when they do glance over, it’s mostly to check that you, as the new girl, are still doing okay. Despite any jealousy they may be feeling about the attention he’s giving you, they still know how shocking and abrupt all of this can suddenly feel when you’re being confronted with men like him.

He’s surprised when you look shy, and you know the rumours abound—about how you’re all able to make extra cash—the private parties for the number one keyholders. But it’s not something you’re forced into just by virtue of being a bunny, and it’s not something you’ve been interested in finding out more about. Still, being perched on his firm lap, the seams of his suit rubbing against your silk tights, you can’t help but wish that you had asked more about it; found out if there were expectations. You wouldn’t want to let him down. You awkwardly sit there a moment before opening your mouth,

“So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” He smiles,

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself honey.” So you do, giving him the basic information of your life, while he hmms and uh-huhs in all the right moments to show he’s listening to you. You’re starting to run out of steam and you’re about to ask him to tell you something when you’re distracted by him reaching to the side of you, jostling you a little.

He lights a cigar, and you can feel the heat of the tip. You shift the tiniest bit; you don’t know why it’s getting you so hot. You’re suddenly grateful for the subtle but multiple layers you’re wearing. Thankful for the fact that you’ve never listened to the few girls who swear it makes more sense not to bother with panties; you’d never been convinced that it wasn’t asking for trouble—something was sure to slip or become exposed. But you also always wore a double layer of pantyhose. He grunts the tiniest bit as you bump back into his stomach, and when you pause for a moment, you can feel a dampness growing between your legs. Through all the layers, he can’t feel it, thank God, but he does murmur to you: "Lord, are you a hot little Bunny." He strokes the small of your back, and you somehow know he doesn’t just mean it in the attractive sense, but that he can feel your heat.

You wriggle back against him, thinking, - don’t waste your chance, girl; don’t do it; you may as well go for it. All of your sense of propriety is lost, and you’re suddenly completely ignorant of the happenings around you. You can feel where the rubber around the edge of the leg bands of the teddy is starting to roll, being unable to stay put on the slippery tights and causing it to fall further away from your thighs riding up. You know he can feel it too, as close as you are. And while you’re still theoretically clothed, you can feel his trouser leg better on your thigh after it rolled up; he said you were hot, but he’s burning, it feels like. You push back onto him, feeling his tummy nudge against you, and under your tail, what felt like a growing erection. You don’t know what’s come over you, where this sexual confidence, this determination, this lack of self-consciousness, has come from. You wonder if it could just be the adrenaline of being so close, but you still go with it, and you nudge your ass back to him, grinding a little.

"Don’t baby," he pushes you forward a little, with his one free hand, blowing smoke past the side of your face, and you giggle, putting on a faux deep voice.

"Don’t procrastinate; don’t articulate…" You can’t even get the words out of your mouth you’re giggling so hard, wiggling in his lap, and it sets him off too, shaking his head and murmuring against your ear.

"Lord save me, girlie, you’re trouble, ain’t ya?" He holds you still. You try, but you’re practically incoherent because you’re laughing so hard.

"If you're lookin' for..." But your laughter cuts off when he hooks a finger in the corset and strokes it down your inner thigh—somewhere that you would have slapped anyone else and whispers,

"You came to the right place." You gasp, head going back, and his own tucking into your shoulder - he holds out the cigar, and, despite having barely lit it, rests it in the tray to the side of you so that he can use both hands to grip your waist. It’s ridiculously cheesy, and you don’t want to think about how many times and with how many girls he might have used similar lines, or how easy it must be for him.

"You want me, Bunny?" You still don’t know if you should be playing hard to get or if you should just give in to the inevitability of it all. "Can feel your little tail pressin’ into me - little puffy thing. Twitching ‘gainst me;" You wrinkle your nose cutely at his words, and he smiles into your neck: "Even a little twitchin’ bunny nose!" he presses a finger to it, and the strokes down to your lips. He rests it there for a second, "Do you wanna do this, bun?" You decide you may as well give in and nod—there's no point trying to play it cool when you’re sitting on his lap. You open your mouth, trying to catch his finger in your teeth as he fools around with you. He pulls you around, so one of your bent knees is now pressed against him and your other is resting on the seat, facing him. You shiver, loving how his sturdy hands manhandle you. You lean forward, as if to kiss him, when he stills you,

"Baby, we’re surrounded." You glance up, confused expression on your face, and a question in your eyes: Why would it matter? They all know the score. He shakes his head. "It’s your job isn’t it? You can’t - we shouldn’t?" You shrug your shoulders, he’s technically right and mere minutes ago you’d been worried about it yourself, but... It’s also not completely true to say that you would be discouraged from doing this with him.

"Say doll, how’d’ya - how’d’ya feel about joinin’ me?" Your heart flips, you glance around, but it appears the other girls are either preoccupied or purposefully avoiding looking at you. Plausible deniability. You’re frozen, and he stands up, pushing off of his lap, and leaves without looking back at you, only stopping at the door to the bedroom to call back,

"You coming or what?" So sure that you’ll follow him in. You glance around, and only Darla catches your eye. You’re wide-eyed and panicked at being caught, but she looks at you for a moment before nodding slightly and winking as she turns away. Somehow, it untangles the ball of anxiety that you didn’t realise was holding you so tense. Seconds later, you stand up, clearing the empty glasses from the tables around you, when Michelle swoops in, taking them out of your hands and nudging you with her hip towards the bedroom. Right then. You follow where Elvis had gone only a minute or so ago, and you cross past the little faux wood door into the bedroom. You look around but find that he’s already in the bathroom—perhaps so certain that you would follow that he didn’t even need to check that you had come in.

You sit anxiously on the big, round, fur-covered bed as you wait for him to reappear. You cross your legs before immediately uncrossing them and standing up—wondering if it was too presumptuous to be sitting there waiting for him. A moment later, leaning against the wall, you change your mind, deciding to sit on the edge again. It really did make the most sense. And while you didn’t want to make it seem like you were assuming something, you doubted he’d invited you back here to play checkers. He comes out and watches you for a brief second before coming over to stand in front of you, mere inches apart, so you’re forced to crane your neck up to look at him.

You’re a little skittish, and he can tell by the way you tremble when his hand comes up to touch your shoulder; he leans forward as if to kiss you, and you pull back. He pauses.

"What’s the matter, little Bunny? Why are’ya so twitchy now?" He doesn’t want to force himself, but he also can tell you want him, even before you willingly followed him here. He also knows that you must know the score—you can’t be that innocent in your role—and you must understand what he’s asking of you.

"I’m, I’m just -- it’s just a little surreal, you’re Elvis Presley. I don’t know how to, I've never been with anyone famous." He smiles, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation — god forbid what the newspapers would have said about that if it had leaked: Elvis forces himself onto Playboy Bunny, BANNED from Hefner’s jet. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So he does the one thing he knows he can do well — can do so well that most women forget their worries and tilts your chin up to kiss you. He brackets your body with his thighs and cups your face in both hands. He’s masterful at it, knowing all the right moves, just the right amount of tongue forced into you, mapping your mouth. His lips are so soft, and his little nibbling bites on your lower lip hurt just the right amount for you to be totally consumed by his actions. He nudges you to move further up when you break apart, and you shimmy up a little, your legs coming up so that only your ankles are not on the bed. He presses one knee between your legs, balancing so he can move forward enough to kiss your cheek, his own high cheekbones rubbing against your face, and whisper,

"I’m just a man, hon, just like any other — don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it." He leans over and you’re forced onto your back, his hand catching you and lowering you down gently onto the fur coverlet. You lean up to kiss the exposed part of his neck, your nose nudging against his high collar.

"I, uh, god, I haven’t been around that many men in general — not like this, so that doesn’t actually make me feel a whole lot better. " You respond quietly. He pauses where his hand had been starting to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your corset. Pulling himself up to look you in the eyes.

"You, have - you have been with a man though? Right Doll?" You nod, frantically, you might be nervous but god don’t let him stop now.

"Yes - yes, just, just only the one." He moans on top of you, clearly liking the answer. You feel the zipper come down, and your chest is finally allowed to expand properly again, free from the restrictive boning. You suddenly panic, holding the garment close to your chest as you force him back a little. He rolls sideways, onto his elbow, to watch you;

"What’sthe matter baby?" He looks concerned as you force yourself up into a sitting position,

"Uh, could you - could you just close your eyes or something while I take this off?" He frowns,

"Well, sure, but… I don’t think you need to worry ‘bout modesty right now." You smile nervously back, trying for a blasé air —

"No, no, I know it’s just — it would just make me feel better." He looks at you, clutching the corset teddy to your chest. He nods, starting to close his eyes and you let out a sigh of relief, immediately standing up and wriggling out of it. You’re bent over, folding the fabric over itself when he starts to talk,

"I ain’t got a problem making you comfortable, babe, but if it’s about them little cottontails stuffed down your top I already know." You pause. Whirling around to see him peeking through his lashes at you. You forget to be shy, stood there topless, braless in nothing but your pantyhose and heels and you put your hands on your hips.

"How on earth —“ He laughs at you, opening his eyes properly,

"I’m not new to this game sweetheart." You can tell he’s teasing, but now he’s made you slightly worried that it's always been obvious thatyou weren’t quite as endowed as you were claiming,

"How’d you tell though?"

"You’re not the first girl meeting me with something stuffed down their shirt, darling, you just, sometimes you can just tell— I don’t know what you’d be stressin’ over though," He takes a moment to very obviously look you over, "they’re some pretty little tits." You’re pleased, but annoyed that he’s still decided to use the term little.

"Well - isn’t that why! Little!" He laughs at your indignation, reaching a hand out to pull you back to him, but he can barely speak through his giggles.

"No, no, no I didn’t mean it like that." You frown, but his amusement is infectious and you find yourself also giggling - "See, see, there’s a good girl - no reason to be sore about it, much more than what you’ve got’sa waste anyway mama, you’ll see."

He puts you back where he wanted you to start with - on your back, as leans over you. The feeling of him still being fully clothed against your chest, your near nakedness, makes you tremble - the soft silk of his shirt rubbing against your nipples. You can smell him, the slight musk of the day masked by cologne - perhaps reapplied in the bathroom a moment ago. His hair is looser than you expected it to be and it’s already starting to flop forward, it unnerves you slightly because it allows you to somehow forget who it is lying over you - the loss of that trademark making you forget that he’s practically a patented figure at this point. Until you catch sight of his blue eyes or his little curled lip and you’re reminded all over again. He strokes up from your waist to your neck and then back down, gentle fingertips dancing over your skin. He leans down to kiss you and your arm winds around his neck, pulling him closer. You’ve never felt a hunger like this. Desire like this before. You’re suddenly desperate to be closer, forgetting to play it cool you’re tugging at his shirt,

"C’mon get this off!" He laughs at you again, but stands up, ignoring your request. You lie there on your back looking up at him as he assesses you. You can’t help but puff your chest out a little and curve your back. Then he bends to grasp your left ankle, slipping your heel off. You yelp at the unexpectedly quick motion but the relief is almost immediate. He grabs your other ankle to take the other heel off, flinging it against the wall of the plane. Then his hands are immediately going to your black tights, he tries to pull them from the ankle but quickly realises that’s getting him nowhere, unable to get a proper purchase on the slippy material. So he works his way up to the waistband, grasping it and tugging it down. His finger catches by your knee, the rough bitten edge of his nail snagging and you hear the tell-tale ripping sound of them laddering, He laughs as you groan,

"Oh, no! Those were my last good pair; they cost me nearly seven dollars!" It only makes him laugh harder as he tears them off of you.

"Tell you what, honey, I’ll make sure you have ten new pairs by the time we land." He throws them somewhere near the rest of your clothes and turns his attention back to your stomach, only to be surprised when he’s met with another pair of pantyhose — this time in a sheer nude.

"Lordy! How many layers’is there?" You laugh at him, as he begins the process of rolling them down too — lifting your hips to allow them to come down easier than last time; it’s not that you don’t believe he would replace them, but just in case you’d prefer not to rip these too.

"Not meant to be being touched am I, Mr Presley?" It’s like, as he exposes more of your skin, he can’t help himself from pausing — the tights stay rolled around your knees to allow him to kiss your thighs, or the patch of skin between your belly button and your panties. You lift your leg, allowing him to roll down the last of the hosiery. He rubs over the arch of your foot and you moan at the relief — you may be getting used to the heels now but it didn’t mean that your feet didn’t still ache as soon as they came off. He gives the same attention to the other foot, rubbing firmly, before physically pushing you up the bed.

"Oh darling, call me Elvis." He strokes up your calves, before he stops again at your feet, "God, has anyone ever told you you’ve got real pretty sooties, Lordy these little toes are gorgeous." You wiggle them at him, you’ve never given much thought to your feet other than deciding what colour to paint your nails. He pulls your foot towards him, lifting your leg up. He kisses along the ball of it, before taking your big toe into his mouth.

You had never, ever, been turned on by the thought of someone playing, or sucking your feet, but suddenly it’s like electricity zapping up your legs to your tummy and core — you can feel yourself growing damp just from his gentle tongue lapping around your toes and you can’t help little moans falling from your mouth. You’re normally ticklish but this time the sensation forms little jolts through your tummy, making it flip slightly, and butterflies form. He lets go with a little pop, his lips forming the perfect round little ‘O’ of suction and the warm wet heat is suddenly released, causing the air to feel colder and your feet more sensitive than ever before. When you look at him standing there, holding your ankle, caressing your calve you have a sudden flash of what it must be like to be a man — and suddenly you think you can understand why men love being sucked so much. The sight of him, his lips red, your toes wet, is overwhelmingly erotic.

He keeps going - right up your foot, before he holds your leg up, kissing up it before he put his knees on the bed again, lowering your limb to allow him to kneel over you. He places little kisses up your thighs, and you can feel his chin rubbing against your stomach as he kisses his way up there, he uses one elbow to lean on, keeping himself somewhat horizontal, but his other hand is following his lips.

"Time to prove it to you, little bun-bun." He whispers against your sternum, before turning his head, licking a line across your breast and capturing your nipple in his mouth. His hand reaches to squeeze your other, pinching the nipple until it hardens into a little nub. He pulls off of where he’s been sucking and blows onto you. The cool air over your wet nipple sends a jolt straight to your pussy — it’s clearly an education for you tonight since you’d also never before known how sensitive your chest really was. He laps at the other side, giving it a similar treatment, palming the breast around it. While you gasp and wiggle underneath him you can feel his length straining in his trousers, and the slight feel of his lowly buttoned shirt, allowing you to feel a slither of the hairs on his chest and tummy is enough to send your arousal into overdrive. You start tugging at his top and trying to feel around his waist to undo one of the belts that had become synonymous with his image, far more insistently than before. Demanding he takes it off, even as the words fail to make it out of your mouth alongside the moans and gasps caused by his ministrations. He pulls back, planting one last kiss on the side of your chest and laughs at you when you beg.

"Please, gotta see you, wanna see all of you - please Elvis, dreamed about this, gotta see it." But still, he complies with your request, sitting himself up to strip off his shirt; unbuttoning the last few buttons and then standing to kick off his trousers, pulling off his belt. You stare at him. Incapable of doing anything else. He’s carrying more weight than before, especially around his middle, although he’s still clearly a man of generally slim build, padded tummy over muscle. But regardless of his weight, or maybe because of it, he’s still beautiful. You reach for him when he lies back down, stroking the hair on his head - the hair that ensures you recognise that this is no longer the slicked-back hair of his Hollywood days and that he’s no longer a boy in anyway but a man and you need only look at his chest to remind you of that. The few sparse hairs that used to be there have been joined by a collection covering his chest and stomach in a soft carpet.

His hands move back down the sides of your body and he whispers to you, "Lift up baby," as you would while trying to undress a child to pull your panties down and off of you — throwing them god-knows-where also. You wriggle, nervous and self-conscious as he stares at you. He’s flushed pink down his face and chest, and he looks you over, assessing. He nods, clearly satisfied and smiles when you breathe a sigh of relief. You bring a hand down, and he follows with his own, going to stroke you.

"God Bunny, you’re dripping." And it’s true, your inner thighs were already sticky with your own slick and you’re genuinely not sure you’ve ever felt this wet without having even touched yourself. He brushes over you lightly, circling your clit, before going to press a single finger into you. Your own hand rests on top of his, ostensibly as if you were guiding him, but really being dragged by him. You let out a moan as he pulls your hand down to join his, directing and tugging your finger to join his, pulling them both out and pushing them back in together as if your two hands made one. It feels wild, it’s so out there, your soft hand intertwined with his rougher fingers pressed against one another as they delve into your most intimate place.

You’re not unused to the sensation in general but his singular finger alone was similar to two of your own and so you can feel a slight burn at your entrance, a barely-there sting that cuts through the pleasure. Like a pinch of salt atop a cookie, it only enhances the flavour — the feel andyourhips circle around as his thumb finds its way up to rub at your clit.

"Gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me huh baby, just like a new set’a wheels gotta grease you up." You moan at his words, the objectification for some reason really doing something for you. He uses his other fingers to stroke gently at you and the tickling sensation is almost enough to tip you over the edge. He seems to hold you there for a miraculously long time, and you realise you probably ought to be trying to return the favour so you reach down to tug at his hard cock. It’s a different feel than what you were used to, you’d never been around an uncut penis before, and you didn’t really know what to do with it other than pretend that it was exactly the same as the two others you’d touched. He winces slightly when you roll your palm over before his foreskin has retracted back causing you to roll the skin around, pinching him as you try. He bats your hand out of the way, pumping himself. You take note and recreate his actions as best you can, and you know you’ve hit the sweet spot when his own hips jerk and his hand tightens around your wrist. He pulls his fingers out from you, dragging your hand back with him and flings your arm away, before going back down with three fingers, he prods them at your entrance, testing the boundary before slowly sinking them in. You whine at him, panting,

"Please, god, Elvis, you gotta, I’m ready for you, I swear I’m ready for you," he pulls his fingers out, and pushes your hand away from his cock, rolling you firmly onto your back and kneeling himself up again.

"Ok, Ok, Bunny, ok, I hear ya, I can feel you’re ready for me, just, just didn’t wanna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good little Bunny." He pulls your hips towards him and lines himself up.

He thrusts into you, pulling you onto him and you whine as you feel his sticky head stretching you open. Despite your claims of being ready for him it has been a while. His stomach is resting on yours, his tummy pressing down on you. It’s almost like he’s smothering you, he’s entirely enveloping you. His hands are holding your waist, bracketing you to him. If it were anyone else you think you might find it claustrophobic, so close together that your breath is mingling, you can see his pores, feel his belly button. But for some reason it just makes you want even more of him, getting as close as humanely possible, desperate for however much you can get. His taste, his smell, his everything.

"Oh god," as he pushes in further, devastatingly slowly, "Tight as a fucking virgin aren’t ya… you sure you haven’t still got your cherry? Sure I’m not about to - ah - pop it ‘gain?" You moan, trying to relax your breathing from its quickened state as you adjust to him inside you. He moves one of his hands to touch you, feeling where you’re spread open and up to press your clit, and you buck up involuntarily at the contact, forcing a few more inches of him in. He groans at the unexpected tight pressure and heat. You clutch at his shoulders as he responds with his thumb speeding up on you. He drives into you, and you clench down as you start to feel his fingers doing their job, along with his cock jabbing against your internal walls. You don’t recognise the noises coming out of your mouth, they’re not the practised noises that you might expect from a woman of your occupation, but the very real moans and groans from a woman surprised at how this could feel.

He’s breathing heavily, and you can see the sweat starting to form, but he keeps the pace — clearly, his near-constant performances have maintained his stamina. A bead of it starts to form on his brow and you watch it drip, slowly, down his cheek towards the little patch of sideburns. You suddenly yearn to taste it, it’s sure to be salty, and maybe a little sweet, but his musky smell is already filling your nostrils and you can’t help but want to lick it. You try to distract yourself, don’t want to embarrass yourself like that, how unbecoming that would be. You try to look at a point beyond his shoulders, but you fail when you feel his hot, large, heavy, hand on you - cupping your cheek and drawing your eyes back to his face.

"Where ya going little Bunny?" He huffs, "Stay with me." He’s pleading with you and it immediately catches your attention. You nod, frantically, as his hips rock back and forth into you. He grips your waist and hips tight and leans closer, pausing in his rutting to press into you, deep, and catching your mouth with his. When he pulls off of you, he goes to kiss the side of your face, curving over himself to kiss your neck and you can see another drip of swear forming. It’s too much to take and you reach with your hands, both of them cupping his head, pulling him back up to your eye level from your shoulder. He looks up slightly confused at why you’ve stopped him but his eyes quickly roll closed as you lean forward,

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you daddy." He nods, and you hold his head in place, kissing the side of his mouth, before licking his cheek, little kitten licks before a broader stripe up to his temples, where the sweat is forming. You were right; it’s sweet and salty, manly. His hips stutter a little and you can feel him twitch inside you, your own walls fluttering and clenching a little in response to his feel and taste. He pulls back a few inches, about to thrust back into you but you put a hand on his chest. He frowns down at you, disappointed that you were blocking his movements.

"Let me, let me — can I, wanna ride you." His eyes roll back and his bitten, pouty, lips fall open in pleasure as he doesn’t say anything but starts to remove himself from you. When his cock pops out, bobbing between you he rubs it against your folds, cockhead bumping your clit. You grind against him, before moaning at the loss as he sits himself at the head of the bed, sliding down to be in a semi-reclining position.

"C’mon then doll, have at it." He gestures with both hands at his crotch. "Hippity hop little Bun." You grin, you don’t normally love the bunny jokes and comments — you’re not ashamed of your job and in fact, you’re normally quite proud of your career, but you do like to keep it separate from your private life; it’s still your work, and you’re more than just a playboy bunny. But coming from him? If Elvis wants to call you Bunny, he can call you a bunny — hell you’d hop about the room, eating a carrot, until he was satisfied if he asked.

You sink down onto him, your slick and his precum have lubricated your entrance enough by now to make it far easier than his first push into you, although your mouth still falls open at the feel of the stretch. You moan at the feel of the different angles, hitting different parts of your walls as you bottom out before rising back up, only to rock yourself back down again. You try to pay attention to his face, work out what feels the best for him but honestly you’re too distracted trying to get the angle right for yourself. He seems content, though, to let you do the work, offering you a near-constant stream of praise;

"Uh-huh that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” You circle your hips in response, grinding down and he’s moaning at you, telling you that you’re "treating’ me so nice, oh god, oh yes." You bounce on him until your thighs are shaking and you’re so close, but you just need a little more something. You’re about to say so, and you’re reaching down one of your hands that had been on his shoulders to touch yourself when he says,

"It alright bunny if Daddy takes over again now?" You feel yourself clench, his slightly condescending tone for some reason heightening your arousal even further, and you nod rapidly. He lifts you off of him, his forearms flexing, and manhandles you into turning around - pushing you down onto all fours. Your arms are a little shaky and you lean down onto your elbows to compensate.

"Arch your back baby, that’s it." You comply with his request, feeling a little like a whore and how strange it was to feel, as fucked open as you were, the air running past your pussy. He grips your hips and lines up again, one hand staying around your hipbone while the other strayed around to hold you close to him, palm splayed across your lower stomach as he pushes into you again.

He slides in, the stretch lessening each time — you can still feel him, of course, but it’s less of a burning sensation and more of a gentle pull now. He’s constantly talking — praising you, telling you you’re "so goddamn fucking pretty" that "you were born to take this," and that you were "such a good girl." You’re not used to the noises he pulls from you, and you probably should be more concerned about how thin the walls are - he reminds you a few times that you "gotta be quieter baby, gotta quiet down, be a quiet little Bunny for me", but when his balls are slapping against you, his tummy knocking into you, and his cock is stretching your hole you lose the ability to stay quiet.

A stream of swears and words of approval coming from your own mouth, "C’mon, please Daddy, please, that’s it, that’s it, give it to me Daddy."

He reaches around, stroking you and rolling his fingers over the little silky soft patch between his cock and your clit, feeling around where you’re joined. It’s filthy - and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and when he reaches down with a hand - rubbing his fingers over you just so you’re reminded that you’re not the second person he’s ever fucked. He seems to know all the right moves to get you where he wants you, your head turned against the bed, gasping. You’re knocked momentarily silent when he pulls out, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, jabbing it against your clit before he presses a hand agaisnt your back, forcing your ass up higher and presses back inside you. This time he’s aiming, going deeper than his shallower thrusts before, and he knows he’s aimed true when you wail as he hits the bumpy little spot inside you. He breathes a laugh like your reaction is amusing to him — perhaps because of the sheer shock in your tone and he continues at the same pace. Hitting that same spot and focusing his fingers once again on your clit.

He circles his middle finger and thumb around, moving closer and closer before eventually, finally, brushing directly over it. It’s enough to make you cry out, thrashing around a little, legs jerking, as you come — your hole clenching around him causing him to groan in time with you. Your body goes slack against him, as he continues to pummel into you, although he does slow down, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm back down. He shifts slightly, pulling you up, and holding you by his grip on your waist and pussy as he kisses the sweat on your collarbone. Before abruptly shoving you back down onto the bed. Your face rubs against the fur as your arms give way, and you grab fistfuls to hold onto as he grips your hips, so tight you’re bound to bruise, and starts to pound away at you. You’re oversensitive and his rapid pace is a little uncomfortable, but as he starts to swear, and you can feel him drawing near he reaches down with his left hand, and nudges your folds open again. He rubs your clit at a pace that would normally have made you shove the guy off of you, so little attention given elsewhere, but that matches his own hips perfectly and is apparently just the right amount of abrasion to send you careening to the edge again. You convulse on his cock at almost the exact same moment you can feel him rapidly pulling out, to shoot his own cum across your ass and back.

"Now you got your own little white tail Bunny." He doesn’t let you rest. As soon as he’s stopped spurting he’s pushing you over, rolling you onto your back and diving between your legs. He tongues your sloppy, open, hole and he licks his way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on that little nub and sending your oversensitive self straight through to a third orgasm. You scream, unable to remain quiet any longer, clutching at his hair and holding him tight to you as you writhe against his mouth. He licks you out like a man possessed, like he’s been told it’s essential for the good of humanity, and you’ve never had someone do this to you before; you had no idea this was how this felt, but to have someone so dedicated to the task was a feeling almost as heady as the orgasm itself.

He flops back, resting his head back onto your inner thigh, and you pat gently at his head, still breathless and unable to speak as you blink away black spots in your vision. He’s breathing heavily and you can feel his sweaty forehead on your fingertips. You can’t believe it’s his soft, sweaty hair in your hands. God, you wished this plane would never land. He sits up, and looks down at you, patting at your pussy lightly, as you would a pet, affectionately. You look over at your clothes, wondering if you’ll even be able to contain your puffy folds in the tiny gusset of the corset teddy when he distracts you by leaning down and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"If it’s alright with you, darling, I think I might request you on my crew every time I fly."

#elvis fic #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction

691 notes · View notes