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Stanley's a slut; it's as simple as that. And when he struts over to you, lips twisted into a crooked, shit-eating grin and gaze dropping down to eye your crotch shamelessly, it's very clear to you that Stanley is not only a slut, but a slut that needs to be put in his place.
That's exactly what you're doing right now as you shove yourself all the way down deep— right past the root of his tongue and into his throat. He makes an undignified ghllk! and glares up at you, clearly annoyed, but you don't care. All that matters right now is fucking into his impossibly soft, undisciplined mouth.
"Careful," you warn when he lets the teeth of his dentures scrape against you rebelliously, cupping his face with gentle hands. Your thumb trails along the crease between his furrowed brows, then down to where his lips are stretched obscenely around you, stroking the stubbled skin affectionately before you pull your hips back just enough to give your thumb some wiggle room. He makes another noise of protest when you pry him open but you pay it no mind, pressing the pad of your thumb against his molar with disdain as you idly think about how his mouth would feel, denture-free and raw, "I'm not against slapping a brat around if he misbehaves."
Stanley rolls his eyes but he complies anyway, letting his jaw loosen up so you can go back to fucking it comfortably. He's a whore so he'll be treated like one; with the way his eyes roll back as you feed the rest of your dick back into his pliant mouth, it seems like he likes it too— no matter what he says to save that stupid, pretty face. And that's really all he is, isn't he? Just a pretty little head with nothing going on inside. That's perfectly fine— you've always loved them a little dumb.
And damn it if he isn't the prettiest, dumbest little thing you've ever had the pleasure of breaking. The way he feels around you is nothing short of perfection, especially when you decide to keep still and see what he'll do on his own with that big mouth of his. You don't want to admit that you just might cum too soon at the simple thought of shooting all of it down his throat.
Stanley forces himself down until his nose presses up against you and pulls back slowly, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks you out for everything you're worth. All of this he does with heavy eye-contact, watching you watch him with dark brown, faux doe eyes. There's a glaze in them that teeters on cockdrunk as he pulls off completely, the head of your dick popping out obscenely before he presses a cherry-red kiss to it. It's a lewd gesture that leaves a string of wetness between the two of you but neither one dares to move. You simply stand there, listening to Stanley catch his breath while you eye him hungrily.
Stanley just looks too good like this— hair a tangled mess, tears ghosting down his cheeks, mouth kissably swollen and dazed eyes peering up at you behind skewed glasses; the picture-perfect image of a fucked out bimbo. All he needs now is messy lipstick and some trashy blue eyeshadow. Wouldn’t that be something?
He drives you crazy and he 100% knows it. You can act mean and talk big all you want— at the end of the day you really like Stanley. Like, like like Stanley and it's glaringly obvious. How could you not? He's stupid and loud and sweet and so annoyingly erotic that you can't tell an angry boner from a horny one anymore— it's probably all the same at this point.
"Cat got your tongue, kid?" Stanley gives your dick a teasing nudge with his finger and any gentle infatuation you held for him at that moment vanishes. There's still a place at your feet that he has to be fucked into and you need him there like you need air.
Without any warning you haul him up by his collar and slam his back against the wall, pinning him down by his neck. The pure shock on his slack-jawed face is an absolute treat and it only gets sweeter when his hands scramble to grab at your wrist. It's cute to watch him struggle— big guy like him having trouble with little old you? You're half-tempted to let him slip away just to see what he'd do about all this power you have over him. That is until he fixes his lips like he's about to say something and spits.
Something cracks through the air—loud and furious—and before you know it there's a bright red imprint of your hand glaring right at you.
"Down, boy," you tut, pressing down a little more and squeezing. It's like magic— the way his hands instantly drop down to his sides and he fucking whimpers. He doesn't even look at you, his eyes screwed shut and cheeks so flushed that it almost drowns out your handprint.
He's trembling and for a second you wonder if you've fucked up. That was definitely a little much. You get ready to back away, all types of apologies churning in your head but that's when you see it. Right there between his legs he's— he's—
"You're so pathetic, you know that?"
Stanley flinches under your words and squeezes his thighs together, his pants straining around the fat like twine. It's beautiful— you'd give anything to sink your teeth into them and tear him apart right now.
"Fucking mutt," you grumble, reaching down to palm him through his suit pants and— oh, wow, he's really enjoying this. A maniacal grin stretches your lips as you cup him a bit harder than you should. He yelps but still bucks into your touch all the same. "You're like a little bitch in heat."
His head rolls back against the wall, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows around nothing. "Kid, you're—"
You slap him again and he wails—sweet and rich—before you grip his face and force him to look at you. His eyes are watery and there's more black pupil in them than there is brown iris as he stares at you helplessly.
"Not a kid," you say, slipping your hand past wet fabric to grip his leaky dick. Your thumb swipes over the messy head punishingly and he makes the loveliest little sob you've ever heard.
"S-Sorry." The words are clunky and unpracticed on his tongue but it still makes your dick jump.
Stanley hurts all over— his throat burns, his face stings, he can barely breathe and he loves it. He loves it so much that he can already tell he's going to be addicted to this— to you. He's hooked on the way you handle him, obsessed with how you keep him pinned by his throat like he's an animal as you run your hand along his dick at a pace that makes him want to cry. Stanley never cries— never like this and never so easily yet here you are wringing tears and cum out of him like he's a god-damn well.
"Look at yourself, Stanley. Look how hard you are." Stanley's not sure if he wants to look; he's afraid, though he can’t think of a reason why he’d be afraid. A threatening squeeze down below tells him to stop thinking and just obey and he does, dropping his head with a punched out groan. His lip gets caught between his teeth as he watches himself disappear into your hand.
"You're so big, Stanley," you press a kiss to his red hot ear and he twitches with more violence than you expected. It must be a sensitive spot. You think about how cute that is before you push your affection to the side so you can bully him properly, "But I expected that from a guy like you. Big and strong, aren't you?"
Stanley nods and he starts to hump into your grip like a crazed man, muttering a mantra of mindless agreement in hopes that it'll grant him your favor. It doesn't really, and it's not exactly what you want from him right now but you allow it anyway; that pretty face of his can get him anything.
He's so pretty that you can't help but make it into a big deal. He just has to know how gorgeous he is when he's making a mess out of your hand— has to know just how much you want to build him up and tear him back down.
"So big and strong. A real manly man," you press a wet kiss along his neck, letting your teeth scrape against the delicate skin as you pull away, "And yet here you are moaning like a girl."
You watch Stanley choke on his own saliva, his eyes shooting wide open as he struggles to cough out a retort.
"Hey!" He's glaring at you now, frowning and red-faced as he tries to push himself off the wall and give you a piece of his mind. Unfortunately for Stanley you've got him trapped so he settles for slapping your hand off his junk instead. You click your tongue but don't fight him, pulling away entirely with nonchalance as you watch the gears in his head start to turn.
"The hell's your problem?!" He growls before he spouts off into a big monologue about how he's a man and how he'll "sock you in the jaw if you ever say something like that again!" and blah blah blah. You don't mean to dismiss him so easily but it's hard to be intimidated when he's got his pants wrapped around his ankles, dick hanging free.
Free and still very erect. You crack a little smile over that. Interesting.
"—and another thing!" Stanley points an accusatory finger at you and you actually scrounge up the decency to look at his face this time. It's stern and red and looks so comically angry you're half-expecting steam to come out of his ears. "My eyes are up here, you pervert! Look at me when I'm talking to ya!"
A stupid smirk plays on your lips and you raise your hands in surrender, having been caught red-handed but not at all sorry about it.
"Yes, yes, of course. My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty." You even do a little bow, which doesn't seem to please him one bit because he rolls his eyes with a scoff.
"Careful, wise guy," Stanley huffs, crossing his delightfully thick arms. His cock is still out and proud and you shamelessly let your gaze wander before the little devil on your shoulder whispers something to you.
"Okay, I'm sorry," you look down at the floor with your hands looped behind your back, a perfect display of remorse, "It won't happen again, Stan."
He squints at you, his crow's feet deepening in an erotic display of extreme physical maturity. What a stupid, stupid hot old man— you can barely contain yourself.
"Ya swear?"
You cross your fingers. "I swear."
He looks at you like he doesn't believe you and that's perfectly fine. With what you're about to do, he doesn't have to believe you.
"So," you step in close, backing him up against the wall and crowding him just the way he likes before he can say anything about you being shady. He blushes deeply and you know that you've got him right where you want him, "You gonna let me make a mess out of you or not, baby?"
"J-Just get it over with," he fumbles over his words and you wanna fuck him so hard that he stutters like that again, "I ain't getting any younger here. And no funny stuff, either. Or else it’ll really be a problem."
It seems that nobody's ever taught him any manners and that revelation delights you more than anything; you get the honor of domesticating him. And, if you let your delusions run a little deeper, it means that you get to truly deflower him. You shudder at the prospect of touching Stanley in ways that he’ll never forget— ways that will leave him wet and trembling and wanting. Oh, he’ll be so much fun to play with. Stanley Pines, your sweet little pet.
"Is that how we ask for things?" You imagine a collar wrapped tight around his throat— something you can loop your finger around and use to choke him out when he misbehaves just like this. Something to have him cry about.
"Aw, c'mon, are ya really— Hngh!" Stanley can't even finish his sentence because you’re latching onto his neck, sucking and biting as much as you can before you trail down to his chest. All the layers of his stupid suit get in your way so you rip it all open, buttons flying everywhere. One even hits Stanley in the face but he doesn't get to bitch about it because you're immediately back on him, teeth sinking into the fatty treat before you pull away to tease his hard nipples. They’re so stiff and tasty against your tongue that it makes your head spin. The only thing that’d make this better is if he started lactating right now, white streams of milk dribbling down his tits that you can lap up like a dog.
“Is that good, sweetheart? You like when I play with you like this?” Stanley groans and presses you closer to him just so you can shut up. You don’t, though, because he’s not the one in charge, no matter what he says or thinks. You both know he’s meant to be your submissive little bitch.
He curses when you reach down to squeeze around his neglected dick, your other hand pinching and pawing at his breast like a virgin. You jerk him off like you hate him, your wrist working fast, quick circles around his cock as you pull on his dusky buds so hard he thinks he’s gonna tear. It hurts, it hurts it hurts and fuck, he loves that it hurts, he needs more, he’s almost there—
“You gonna cum, Stanley?”
Stanley just whines, which is better than any other answer you could ever get. You smile and get close to his ear. “You’re so messy, baby. You gonna clean me up when you bust all over my hand like a fucking loser? I can’t believe you’re this easy. Bet you’d let anybody touch you like this— sluts like you are always open for anyone.”
He can’t help but nod, agreeing with every demeaning word because you’re right, he is a slut, he is, he is. If that’s what it takes for you to keep touching him like this then he’ll be all that and more. He’s just so close and your palm is so rough against his cock that it burns just right and he can’t think about anything because the dirty shlck! shlck! shlck! of your hand is filling his head up and he needs more, more, more more more—
“Beg for me, puppy. Let me know how much you need it.”
And Stanley doesn’t even care about his stupid life principles about ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ anymore because you’re starting to slow down and he’ll die if he can’t have this.
“Please,” he gasps out, vision starting to blur because he’s almost there, just a little more, “Please, please, I can’t— I need—!”
Drool leaks from his mouth and you dip down to lick it up, savoring just how honey-sweet he is all around. Greedily, you drag your tongue across his scruffy cheek and stuff it into his ear, groaning at the surprised yelp he makes as you start eating it out like it’s just another pussy.
It’s so unfair how delicious Stanley is, no matter where you bite into. The fat of his meat, the salt of his sweat, the bitterness of his mouth, the sugar of his moans— he’s the perfect meal. You want to eat him, you will eat him, you’re going to eat him; devour him until there’s just bones left and then crush those bones between your teeth and suck the marrow from them until he’s hollow and only you can fill him up just right.
Stanley is yours to tuck into like a spread, yours to own like a prized pet, yours to destroy and put back together like a toy. He'll know it soon enough— you will make sure of it.
He’s yours and you always take care of what’s yours, so you pull away from his slick ear and blow into it, giving the fatty lobe a nibble before you clamp down on Stanley’s cock and whisper with finality, “There’s my good girl.”
And Stanley, the good girl he is, squirts hard, blubbering and crying like he’s never squirted before in his entire life. And maybe he hasn’t, because his old knees buckle and his eyes cross like he’s been fucked stupid already. If this is what gets him all dumb and pliant then what you plan to do to him after might just leave him braindead.
“There you go,” you murmur, playing with his softening cock to just to be mean, “Let it all out, princess.”
And to no one’s surprise Stanley does not sock you in jaw for saying that, too caught up in how you’re still touching him even though he just came and it’s too much, he can’t handle it, you’ve gotta stop, let him breathe for a second, please, he's being so good and saying please—
“Shhh, shhh, just let it happen,” you say when he starts to make an actual effort to get away, pressing your free hand against his throat so he knows he’s not going anywhere, “I got you, Stanley. Look at how wet you are, baby, you love this. You love it when I make your useless little clit squirt everywhere.”
He whines out what sounds like your name but you don’t hear it; you’re too busy watching your limp-dicked puppy try to handle what you give him.
“Aww, you’re crying down here. It’s so cute,” you coo when something clear and thin shoots from the tip and tapers down into measly dribbles. Stanley's jaw drops open in a silent moan, head lolling back while his body trembles from the aftershocks. You chuckle and press a mockingly affectionate kiss to his cheek, acting as if you’re just a shy lover on your first date with him and not a sick pervert who just bullied him into making a sticky white mess on his floor.
“Such a good little mutt for me.”
There’s enough of Stanley’s mind left for him to melt, turning those words over in his head while you move him around like a doll. He ends up bent against the wall, his hairy forearms laid flat along it while you nudge his legs apart and get a glimpse of the pretty pink surprise you’ve been dying to get a taste of.
You whistle appreciatively as you pull him apart with one hand, licking your thumb before trailing it against his tightness and sighing out a dreamy, “Oh, sweetheart, look at you.” Stanley shudders, keening as you drag it down to press it against his taint. Cheeky bastard.
“You gonna—” He lets out a pant, biting his lip and groaning as he pushes back against your thumb, hating just how good it feels to have you pressing up against his perineum like that, “You gonna put it in or what?”
A thoughtful hum and a considerate rubbing of his makeshift G-spot is all he’s greeted with and he curses you when the wind gets knocked out of him from that alone. If Stanley had any fight left in him he'd be mouthing off big-time, but it seems you squeezed all of that out of him because all he can afford to do is grumble something about how you're a god-damn tease.
“Aw, don't be like that,” your hands move to spread him open even more, allowing Stanley's hole to gape ever so slightly, “I just wanted to get a good look at this little pussy before I ruin it.”
You watch with bated breath as Stanley's hole clenches around nothing and your dick aches at the sight. Patience, you tell yourself, though it's becoming harder and harder to hold back and not fuck into that tight heat of his. It's practically begging to be violated and stretched to its limits, to be fucked and filled and claimed and bred. Soon, you remind yourself once more. Soon, but not soon enough.
“Oh? You like that?” You don't give him a chance to answer, already rubbing circles against Stanley's sweet pucker to see him jump. “Sure you do. My good girl knows what he likes. Isn't that right, Stanley?”
“Fuck y-OU!” His voice kilters off into an undignified squeal as you pop your thumb in, enjoying the way his back arches against you. He really is a natural at this, bouncing off the slightest touch and keening at every dirty, hushed word; he's just so sensitive.
“You're so cute, Stanley.” You press in a little deeper before pulling back out, slow and deliberate and absolutely tortuous. The rim of his asshole is starting to darken and his walls squeeze around you every time you leave, like it's been empty for far too long. Poor thing. “And so needy,” you replace your thumb with two fingers, shoving them inside unceremoniously and thrusting with no real intention of making him feel good; you just wanna watch him stretch, “You should see yourself from here— you just took two fingers like it was nothing. Is my precious girl in heat?”
The only answer you get is a desperate mewl as Stanley tries to fuck himself onto your fingers.
“Fuck, c'mon, kid— you're killing me!” He complains, hips twitching when you brush against his slut-button.
“Not a kid,” you shoot back, though you know by now that there's no point in saying it because Stanley doesn't like to listen. But that's what makes it fun so you let it slide. And also maybe because you're more partial to the name than you lead on.
It’s a miracle your dick hasn’t exploded from how pent up you are. You’re just too greedy, wanting to milk this experience for all it’s worth. Every moan, every sigh, every quiver— you need to burn it into your brain and tattoo it into every nerve in your body. Who knows when you’ll be able to have him again?
It's only a matter of time. Someone will eventually see just how much of a catch Stanley is and sweep him off his feet and take him away from you. You won't let that happen— not if you have any say in it. You’ve got to stake your claim on him now; leave a mark so deep and visceral and uniquely yours that he'll feel a gaping, raw hole inside his very being with every second that you're not with him. Never forgetting you is not enough— you have to be at the very front of his mind, just as he is in yours. You need him to need you, to depend on you and want you so carnally that he'll never be satisfied with anyone but you. He's yours, he's yours he's yours he's yours and you have to make him know it, have to claim and fuck and own every inch of him— his everything.
Mine, your brain spirals, mine mine mine. You're mine. Stanley is mine. Forever and ever, even when time ends. My pet, my toy, my Stanley—
You don't realize you're gripping the poor man by his fat hips like a lifeline, cock out and dripping and nudging against Stanley's fuckhole until he places his hand on yours, gently stroking the digits to loosen you up. The flesh spills from your fingers like liquid gold and you immediately back off, heart hammering in your chest like it's never done before as you watch the whiteness of it bleed into red, hand-shaped marks. You need to make more.
Stanley calls out to you like a siren and your eyes immediately snap up at him, admiring just how debauched he looks. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder and his face goes red with embarrassment now that he has your attention. There’s a wanton glint in his eyes— a silent plea for something that he doesn't want to say out loud. You know what he wants but that doesn't mean you have to give it to him.
“What do you need, baby?”
You're expecting Stanley to dance around the issue and play the part of a shy, virginal maiden who’s much too coy to actually do something about needing to be fucked within an inch of his life. He’s always been like that— prideful and so deliciously stubborn. It’s what makes breaking him in so much fun.
What you don’t expect is for Stanley to reach down and spread himself open, eyes big and brown and so lost without you, biting down on his lips before he parts them and whispers something so low and sweet you almost think he didn’t say anything at all.
“Please fuck me.”
Nothing registers after that. All you know is that Stanley ends up with his face pressed against the wall while you fuck into his ass with a spit-slicked cock. It’s not good prep and you’re sure that he’s gonna rip but you keep pounding him anyway, too eager to do anything but mindlessly tear into him.
“Fuck, Stanley,” you grit out, pressing new bruises into his hips as you curl over him and bite down on his shoulder, “You’re so tight for me— my perfect little cocksleeve.”
Stanley sobs, clawing at the wall and scrambling for any sense of sanity as you use him up. You’re so big, so rough, so mean and he can’t get enough of it. The stretch alone has him on the verge of cumming— he just needs a little more.
‘A little more’ comes sooner than he expected in the form of your hands sliding down to palm at his belly. His breath hitches and he tries to jerk away but you prove to be stronger than he is, looping your arm around him entirely with an angry ‘Don’t you fucking run from me.’ as you haul him up against you. The motion forces him further down your cock, hitting him right on his prostate and he wails as his orgasm rips through him like a knife. His entire body goes rigid, teeth gnashing together and tears gathering in his eyes as you make him ride it out on your dick.
He chants your name urgently, his hands fumbling around yours as he tries to pry them off.
“Please, please, you’re gonna kill me, I’m gonna die, I’m dying—” He’s practically begging for his life at this point but you don’t seem to care.
In fact you seem to enjoy it because you’re suddenly holding him in your hand, milking him by his big, useless dick and whispering, “Shh, shh, I know. Just let me breed you, puppy.”
Something in Stanley’s mind goes all wonky at that— like it’s a secret code to turn him into a mushy pile of pink slut because his body goes limp, a weird deep-seated part in his psyche seemingly placated at the promise of you dumping your load into him like he’s some free-use whore.
“Yeah,” he doesn’t sound like himself when he says it, voice airy and high and so bitched-out that he thinks he’s been possessed by the ghost of some cock-hungry tramp, “Yeah, cum inside me, k-knock me up, need it bad—”
“I know,” you repeat, pressing down on his plush belly, “Feel how deep I am? That’s all for you, puppy, I promise. You can take it all— my pretty little Stanley.”
You feel his cock twitch in your hand, something hot and wet spilling down your hand. A hot groan rips itself from your throat and you start to pound into his asspussy like a mindless brute.
“You like when I call you pretty?” And all Stanley does is throw his ass back against you mindlessly, much too busy getting his dumb little brain scrambled by your cock to give a proper answer. You bring your hand down to crack against him, watching it grow red before you lean back and pull him apart and dear God the picture he paints is nothing short of perfection.
His rim is so puffy and dark and wet from being speared so violently onto your cock that it really is more of a pussy than it is an ass. You bite back a pathetic whimper at the thought of Stanley’s loose, gaping hole struggling to close because of you. Then you think about just how tasty he’ll look when he has your cum leaking out of his ass all the way down his balls, your tongue swiping over your lips at the prospect of eating him out afterwards.
Your thrusts become more erratic with each fantasy, hand working overtime on Stanley’s oversized clit just so you can feel him squeeze around you one last time before you’re finished for good.
“Cum on my cock, Stanley,” you make it sound like a demand but it’s more akin to a plea, “You’re so—fuck—so girl-messy when you’re close, y’know that? Perfect fucktoy for me, aren’t you? Knew when I saw you that you were just another puppyslut begging to be dicked down and used. Bet you wanted me to break you in, huh? You little cocktease.”
You’re just saying anything at this point, the words being more for you than anything else as you feel Stanley getting slicker and easier to slide into. You’re almost there, you just need Stanley to cum first, need to hear that little bitch cry on your dick before you can blow your load.
Just when you think you’re about to lose it and cum first you feel the telltale tremble of Stanley’s dick before he starts spurting out hot, thick ropes against your palm. Then the wet heat of Stanley’s hole clamps down on your cock and you’re a goner, pressing up against him until the meat of his ass meets your heavy balls with a filthy plap! and you’re tangling your hand in his hair to shove his face into the wall.
You keep him pinned there, forcing him to take every load you dump into him while he deals with his own undoing.
“Th-That’s it,” you murmur, trying your damnedest to sound as collected as possible as you pull out and slam into him once more with a disgustingly wet squelch, “Take it all.”
And it’s with that final thrust that you collapse against Stanley, arms looping around his stomach and pulling him close even though you’re both sweaty and being gross is no longer as sexy as it seemed before. Neither of you seem to mind, though, too caught up in putting your thoughts back together to care.
“You gonna clean me up or what, kid?” Stanley asks after a while, turning his head to look at you. His brow is raised expectantly.
You blink, pulling away from his shoulder to see his face in its entirety. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re gonna have to pull out eventually,” he rolls his eyes like it’s obvious, a faint hint of red dusting his cheeks, “And it looks to me like you’ve got it real bad for this old man because I feel like a damn water balloon here.”
“S-Sorry!” Heat swarms your face. “I didn’t think about that! You just felt so good that I— y-y’know! And you were so into it, too, so I thought, well, maybe, I don’t know, it’d be okay for me to d-do it inside—”
“Ugh, relax, kid,” Stanley groans, “It’s fine, I was just teasing ya.”
You wilt a little at that, clearly very embarrassed as you let out a feeble, “Oh.”
Stanley bursts into a fit of laughter and the heat in your face worsens. You don’t do anything about it though because the sound always makes your heart do a little flip. Gosh, he’s really got you wrapped around his finger. Stupid, stupid, perfect old man that you have a very dangerous crush on!
Eventually he calms down, wiping a tear from his eye and you finally relax. You rest your head against his shoulder once more, admiring the way he smells and breathes and just lives. He fits in your arms so perfectly that you can’t help but be corny about it and compare it to a puzzle. He was right— you’ve got it real bad for him.
“Soooo, pet play, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Maybe you should kill him.