#a job doesn’t compensate at ALL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euthymiya · 3 months

Note

Poor wrio comes home to you after a long day, so you surprise him with new lingerie from chiori’s boutique because you’re a good, sweet girlfriend 🙂‍↔️ no this isn’t based on that one scene in your fic

surprise compensation ft. wriothesley

wriothesley is a hard worker. sometimes, when days are particularly long and rough, you have a surprise or two that makes things worth the troubles

contains: 3.2k word count ; fem reader ; adult content. no minors ; established relationship ; nipple play ; cunnilingus ; fingering ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; wriothesley is a serial clothes ripper ; one joke about his cuffs

Reforming criminals is tough work. Wriothesley is capable for the job, of course—he thinks the state of the fortress under him compared to past years is proof enough that he does the job better than anyone else has. But regardless, it’s tough work.

Sometimes they send him ruffians for inmates. They come to him pent up and aggressive. They don’t miss a beat at lunging at him once the cuffs come off, ready to pick a fight and blow steam off on the warden of the prison himself. Wriothesley’s capable though—both in administration and in a fist fight.

That doesn’t make him rub his jaw any less from the sore spot where a punch landed today. It’s rare to get a hit on him, but not entirely impossible. He walks into your bedroom, grumbling under his breath as he rubs into the tenseness of his jawline as you sit up straighter in bed at his arrival.

“M’back, sweetheart,” he mumbles, giving you a tired grin as he carefully lays himself over your body, groaning as his muscles relax for the first time all day on top of your forgiving body.

“Rough day?” You ask sympathetically, titling his head up to inspect the blossoming bruise along his skin.

“You have no idea.”

“New prisoners give you trouble?” You smile knowingly, rubbing a hand over his back, pressing the heel of your palm gently into the tight, punishing knots in his muscles as he grunts into your neck.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures. “I put them in place.”

“Not before they set your jaw in place,” you snort, earning a huffed grumble under his breath from him.

“You should see the other guys.” His lips press a small kiss to your skin, sucking gently against your pulse point as he hums approvingly as he inhales your scent. “Rowdy bunch, but I’ll fix ‘em up.”

“Such a hard working duke,” you giggle, “they should compensate you more.”

“Hh?” He chuckles, lifting his head up as he grins at you, “you think so? Think I need deeper pockets for my efforts?”

You hum, leaning in and pressing a slow, but not heatless kiss against his chapped lips, running your hand along his collar until you find the first button, undoing it slightly to reveal more of his sturdy chest. He smiles against your lips, a bit excited, and a little more smug.

“I got you something,” you whisper, voice breathy. He can hear the smile between your words, quirking a brow as he waits for you to continue speaking. “I think you’ll really appreciate it.”

“Who needs better compensation when you’re always rewarding me,” he grins, toothy and charming as he nips at your lips before adding, “plan on showing me this little surprise?”

“Why don’t you unwrap it first,” you murmur, grabbing his hand and guiding it to the hem of your shirt.

His breath hitches—something more carnal, more desperate settles itself into his skin, flushing it a hot shade of crimson along his cheeks and chest, radiating heat along his fingertips that sear into your skin as he works them under your shirt, grazing along your body until they finds your breasts.

He feels the lace, and instantly, he can tell it’s not one he recognizes. It’s new. Something he hasn’t seen yet—it makes him let out a sound of impatience, deep and guttural from his chest as he says huskily, “well, if I must do the work, then so be it.”

He rips your shirt clean off with one tug. It’s his shirt, actually, but you claim it as your own—and you take it very personally, too, when it’s split in two from his impatience.

“Wriothesley!” You scold, gasping as the cool air meets your skin while he discards the torn shreds of fabric.

“There’s more where that came from,” he assures, clicking his teeth as he bites into your neck and says lowly, “let me unwrap my present in peace. I had a long day.”

You roll your eyes, huffing but complying quietly as he admires the dark gray sitting pretty and perfect against your skin, cupping the curves of your breasts beautifully. Wriothesley takes his time, so unlike the impatience he has just moments ago, as he rakes his eyes over your skin slowly. The icy shade of his irises land on the clasp at the front, darkening into a more intense, lust filled shade as they settle on it with interest.

“Like it?” You hum, “Chiori designed it just for me.”

“Did she now?” He raises an eyebrow, trailing a finger along the edge of the padding, tracing the skin of your breast as it spills over the bra, grinning as goosebumps rise where his touch lingers. “I really owe her a proper thank you, don’t I? This’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“It was my idea,” you say petulantly, “what about my thanks?”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s coming real, real soon.”

You gasp when his hand suddenly undoes the clasp, spilling your tits to the open, cool air of your room as he groans at the sight of your bare chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to a nipple while you shiver under him.

“All this for me?” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your skin and contrasting the coolness lingering in the air. “Got a new little set made just for me?”

You nod through a bitten lip, shuddering as he chuckles against you. “Thought you deserved it,” you shiver.

“You shouldn’t have. I might get spoiled, you know.”

“You don’t want to be?” You tease, cutting off yourself slightly with a soft hitch of breath when his rough hand cups the other tit, palm rubbing against a pert nipple and making your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh, I definitely don’t mind,” he flashes you a smooth, toothy grin, one with all too much sharp teeth and all too little shame. “I just think it’ll be a bit of trouble for you to keep up if you get me too spoiled, is all.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” you say cheekily, “it’s not exactly a one sided transaction.”

“Oh, I’ll make it worth your while, alright,” he nods—and finally, he wraps his lips around a hardened nipple, grazing his teeth along the nub as his tongue swirls around it, pulling a sweet, helpless little cry from you that shoots straight between his legs where his cock is already half hard.

His rough thumb works the other, rubbing along and pinching teasingly as he whine into his mouth that traps yours into a needy kiss. “Wr-wrio—”

“Yeah baby?” He chuckles, “got something you need’ta say? I’m listening, sweetheart.”

He most certainly is not listening, you want to scowl, because he cuts your words off by pulling a sharp gasp from you as he pinches harder at your clit, making your back arch into the touch as he chuckles. His teeth nip at your jaw, kissing along the skin as your hand cups the back of his head and tangles weak fingers to grasp at his hair.

“You are so….”

“So what?”

“So smug,” you huff, voice strained between pants, “I’m never doing anything nice for you again.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pouts theatrically, “you might hurt my feelings. And I didn’t even get to say thank you yet.”

As it seems, Wriothesley’s way of saying thank you is yet again yanking fabric straight off of you, ripping your pants right off your lower half in an unrestrained moment of impatience.

You think you’ll really have to have a chat about his brutish habits one of these days.

“You can’t say thank you by ripping my whole wardrobe,” you gasp, glaring at him with sharp eyes.

“Why would it tear so easily if it wasn’t meant to?” He wriggles his brows, lips curled in a smug, amused little grin that has you melting against the sheets with heat pooling impossibly hotter between your legs at the sight.

Regardless of your irritation at yet another ruined pair of sweats. The conversation can wait until later, though, you think.

“I can’t with you,” you huff.

“Luckily, you don’t have to do much with me, anyway,” he murmurs, lowering his hands to trail over the lacy fabric of your matching gray panties. He marvels at the sight of you, eyes hazy and unfocused as they stay stuck at the dampened spot between your legs. “I-I…I’ll do most of the work,” he stutters.

“Don’t rip these, okay?” You grin, “they cost me a good sum. Surprises aren’t cheap, you know.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily as he mumbles, “you’re trying to kill me, huh?”

You giggle, blinking up at him innocently as you reply, “I’m trying to do something nice for you. You don’t think it’s nice?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” he spreads your legs, hovering between them as he eyes the wet, darkened patch of lace against your dripping cunt even closer, “I just can’t promise I’ll survive long enough to properly appreciate it.”

With that, he presses a kiss against your clit, right through the fabric as you whimper at the minimal contact, twitching into his touch as he laughs.

“Maybe you won’t either,” he flashes a toothy grin, making you huff, unamused.

“Don’t tease,” you scold, “you should be nice to me.”

“You’re right,” he nods, wrenching your thighs apart as he pulls your panties off enough to expose your needy pussy, but not enough to let them past your plush thighs. He like them there, decorating your skin like that for him to see even as he brushes his nose against your clit and kisses at your entrance.

The slick pooling between your legs coats his lips, earning a hum of approval from him as he murmurs, “so sweet. I love this sweet little pussy—don’t you?”

“Wr-wrio—oh, f-fuck,” you arch into him, a surprised gasp leaving your lips, swollen from biting. His tongue is flat against your clit, flicking back and forth against it as his fingers tease your folds, collecting your essence before slowly pressing into your walls.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, “we don’t have anything like this at the cafeteria.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, slapping his shoulder as he chuckles against your cunt, the vibrations and the hot flash of his breath making you shake against him. “You are so filthy.”

“Yeah? And you’re not having a good time by it?” He challenges, fingers smearing your slick that coats the digits along your inner thigh, grinning as he adds, “you seem like you’re thoroughly enjoying it.”

“Wriothesley,” you plead desperately, “stop teasing. I need you—please.”

“Fuck,” he swears. There’s a harsh twitch of his cock through his pants at the utterly broken sound of your voice—it makes him sink his fingers in instantly before his lips wrap around your clit. “You got me, baby,” he murmurs between sucking on the bundle of nerves, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against the swollen nub.

“Oh—y-yeah, like that,” you praise, hands finding his hair as your fingers wrap around his strands and tug him impossibly closer. You think he might drown in you—he thinks he might not find a better way to go. “Feels…feels so good, baby.”

He groans into your folds, lapping away at them as his fingers are replaced by his tongue, tasting the sweet, dripping essence of you. His hips grind against the mattress slightly, chasing the slightest bit of friction to relieve the unforgiving throb of his cock.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper, shaky and broken.

“Then cum,” he demands, “for me.”

You do—like his words command your pleasure. As soon as he tells you to, your cunt flutters with short spasms, pleasure forcing your body into a stiff, tense form as your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back. His tongue works you through your high, traveling between flattening against your clit and fucking into your hole until you’re whining from sensitivity, pulling him away by the hair.

He pulls away. Lips smeared with your slick. Eyes unfocused and dark. Cheeks flushed and red. Hair messed up and plastered to his sweaty forehead.

He looks more fucked out than you, almost. Like he’s just been utterly blissed out to the point of being wrecked just by tasting you.

You giggle, tugging him up to hover over you as you let him pull you into a slow, sensual kiss. You can taste yourself on him. You don’t mind—not when it tastes like his love for you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, “did you know that?”

“I had a hunch,” you breathe, “you seem to be rather enraptured by me.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” he gives you lazy grin.

You don’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you offer him your reply in the form of a hand sneaking between your bodies, carving space between the press of him against you. Your hand rubs him through his pants, earning a low groan from him as he stiffens over you.

“Your clothes are in the way,” you pout.

He huffs a breathy chuckle through his stifled groans, eyes closed as he mumbles, “that’s a problem, huh?”

“A big one.”

“I can fix that, I think,” he hums.

Watching Wriothesley strip himself of his clothes is intimate. Undressing his scars is like holding a magnifying glass to his past, like studying every dark and hurtful era of his life under a microscope.

It’s nice to know he trusts you like that. It’s even nicer to know he wants to trust you like that. Aches to trust you like that. Needs you to let him trust you like that.

Your fingers run along the scar on his chest, and he shivers at the gentle (something he’s never been used to) feel of you.

“I love you,” you murmur.

“Getting sentimental on me?”

“Yeah,” you grin, “don’t like it?”

“Love it,” he laughs. And then he leans down, nose brushing against yours as he kisses you softer than he has yet to kiss you for the night. So delicate, you’d think you’d break. Maybe he’d break. You’re not sure who he’s trying to keep together at this point. “I love you.”

“Then take me,” you whisper, “I want you.”

His breath hitches at that. Something about the way you look at him makes him decide that taking you isn’t enough. He need to give himself up—needs you to accept him.

“Yeah? And I always want you, sweetheart,” he grins smoothly. Tucked away underneath that smooth, boyish, rough and rugged charm, Wriothesley is gentle. Delicate. Vulnerable.

You can see it in the way his hands shake as they grab your hips to help line himself up with your entrance.

“M’ready, Wrio,” you murmur, pulling him into a soft, open mouthed kiss as he presses his cock against your dripping entrance.

He’s hard—painfully, achingly, and unbearably impatient to feel him around him. The curve of his length has always fit you perfectly, nudged against the right spots and dragged along the perfect ridges of your walls without trying. He sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Like he’s scared the moment will end too quickly if he goes any faster.

“You feel that?” He groans, once he’s fully pressed into you, buried to the hilt. “Feel what you do to me? You’ll be the death of me one day.”

“They’d get tired of you,” you breathe, strained voice from the way he’s practically splitting you open. “In the afterlife. Send you right back to me.”

He laughs, head burying into your neck before he roughly pulls out just to slam back into you. Once. Twice. Again. Another time. Once more. Until a steady, unwavering rhythm is built and his body is practically one with hours.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting out whiny little pants against your ear that make you question if you’ll near the edge again simply from the sound of him alone. “Fuck, sweetheart—you…you’re so perfect. Take me so nice, make me feel so good.”

“How good?” You ask shakily, voice a strangled, choked version of itself as his thrusts make your words quiver with every snap of his hips.

“Good enough to buy out that damn boutique,” he grunts, “get you every color. Every fabric. Every style. And then I’ll fuck you in all of them to see which one looks best, yeah? You like the sound of that? Think you can handle it? I bet you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, eyes tearing at the corners as his fat tip presses against the spongy, sensitive spot against your walls, balls clapping against your ass as his pre cum mixes with your slick and leaves a mess between your bodies.

You don’t mind it though. You like the mess. You like the proof of him taking you, making you his, having you until your mind can’t think straight.

“Gonna need more than that,” he says lowly, biting your shoulder and making you whimper. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes—yes,” you sob, “I want it. Want it, want it so bad. Want you to take me right there in that fitting room.”

“Oh?” He breathes out a small chuckle, “that’s quite the fantasy. I’ll see what I can do, baby.”

His thumb reaches to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles in sync with his low, strained voice as he calls you baby. You break at that—hurdle into your second orgasm while his fucks into you with a sloppier pace.

“Oh—g-god, Wriothesley! C-cumming,” you gasp.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, “yeah, yeah. Let me feel you, princess. Fuck.”

His hips are frenzied now—like the height of your pleasure being achieved lets him free, lets him stop holding back as he chases his own orgasm desperately.

It doesn’t take long. One tug of his hair from you to pull him out of your neck and into a heated kiss makes him fall off the edge himself, cock twitching and pouring thick, hot ropes of cum into your abused cunt. The aching pleasure between both of your legs should be too much.

It’s never quite enough.

There’s no enough of Wriothesley. He’s not sure there’ll ever be enough you, either.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good to me, baby. So sweet. Can’t believe you’re my sweet little thing. Come home to that pretty face and this perfect pussy. What’d I do to deserve it?”

He’s babbling, words falling from his tongue in cracked syllables as he paints your walls white. Finally—finally, after what feels like an eternity of over sensitivity, he stills. Milked dry with the remnants of his sticky release coating your walls, the insides of your thighs, the base of his cock. He doesn’t even bother pulling out—just collapses over your body as he buries his nose between your breasts.

“You think she could make a set that matches my cuffs?” He asks, grinning into your skin.

You huff between labored breaths, slapping his shoulder as you mumble, “I’m not asking that. I have a sense of dignity.”

“You want me to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

He pouts, looking up at you as he grumbles, “you’re no fun.”

Wow. Don’t ask me why I produced 3k words about lingerie. I just have lots to say on the matter I suppose

#writing tag #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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mini-ism · 3 months

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#— “SO, YOU’RE A CAMBOY?”

⋆ warnings: ADULT CONTENT (MDNI). camboy!au, masturbation, no beta read.

⋆ pairings: gallagher, sunday, aventurine, welt yang, dr. veritas ratio (separate) X reader.

⋆ notes: this is a part 2 (that nobody asked for lol), i hope i didnt butcher anyones character 😓

⋆ PART 1.

⋆ gallagher will actually oil up if you tell him to — and he does it with a dirty grin. he always wears his signature magenta tie, or maybe a collar if he’s feeling extra naughty. not much is known about gallagher, truthfully. gallagher likes to flex his biceps, he knows that drives you mad. his arms are all scratched up, speckled with patches of scar tissue up to his shoulders. he has a strangely magnetic gaze, one that calls to you as he strokes himself. he lolls his head, letting out a long, heavy moan. his brown hair starts to stick to his face as he sweats, teasing his cock to drive his viewers wild. he edges to get you riled up, raising his eyebrows as he pumps his shaft with two big, thick, calloused hands. he likes to cuff himself to his bed, unable to pull away from a vibrator or his own hand. gallagher is very personal with his viewers at times, ranting about his long, boring day at work with a hand on his cock, calling himself an “old dog” and blabbing about bitchy people. if there’s one thing about gallagher that you know, it’s that he’s a dirty, old showoff. oh, and, if you finish before him, he will relentlessly tease you for it.

⋆ sunday infrequently streams. there’s something so filthy and impure about it that drives him somewhat wild. he doesn’t like to show his face on camera a lot, it could end up bad if it becomes public knowledge that he’s the one on stream. however rare it may be for him to stream, let alone show his face, you can’t ever get enough of his flushed face. he’s just so pent up, and every time he gets close, his wings start to flap a little, it’s adorable. his wings are perfectly preened, his body is well taken care of, and his hands are simply beautiful. his skin is quite pale, it sometimes looks slightly grey, but his knuckles are rosy, and his face gets so, so red. his cock is just as gorgeous, his entire body is well maintained, his tip just as rosy as his knuckles. he lets out small babbles as his cool, collected exterior starts to falter from pleasure. he teases the slit of his tip with his thumb, stroking slowly, dampening his moans with his other mouth. what he does secretly is just so, so impure, it’s sinful, it feels all too good to show his fans what he cannot show the world. it’s amazing, having no control for once.

⋆ aventurine is showy. he’s already pretty showy (he has a lot to compensate for, in all honesty), but when he’s right in front of the camera, something in him changes. he likes to make his streams feel one-on-one, he knows that’s what gets him donations. sometimes, he likes to make “bets” on who will come first, you or him. it’s always you, especially when he dirty talks and picks up the camera to show you how hard and needy he is. he licks his lips and he moans softly when he pumps himself, taunting you to cum, confessing how hard this makes him. he always makes sure to ruin your orgasm indirectly, never letting you get what you want. shouldn’t seeing him already be enough for you, or are you just selfish?

⋆ welt never anticipated becoming a camboy. he was reluctant, but he strangely started to enjoy it. he doesn’t have much personal time, between his job, his duties, his life, he doesn’t savor the time he has alone with himself all too much. welt loves to praise you, urging you to come for him, come to his body and his dick. his gaze is so, so gentle, egging you on for longer, edging himself just so you feel good. his audience loves that about him, he’s endearing and selfless, he doesn’t even have donations on. he mostly streams for the fun of it, he loves encouraging you to feel your best, showing you every part of him that you want, flexing his muscles, giving you THAT look, moaning for you. he strokes his cock softly, whimpering with pleasure and whining as he feels his abs after he edges again. welt absolutely has a cult-like following, the majority of which have some sort of DILF fascination.

⋆ veritas ratio was openly against the idea of streaming. he shut it down every time, but something in the back of his mind nagged him. he grew in popularity in a short time, tugging on his cock with a strange scowl-like smile on his face. he was wonderfully sculpted, though, he loved to show his body. he would occasionally post to other platforms with photos of him shirtless. sometimes out of the bath, skin still glistening and wet, or after a workout in a mirror. in due time, veritas became used to flaunting his body, sneakily placing a rubber ducky somewhere around his home, whether it be his living room, his room, wherever, and challenging his viewers to find it. he’s mildly agitated whenever a member of his audience calls him “ducky” or “mr. ducky.” the ducks are part of the reason why he blew up so fast. veritas knows he’s handsome, though, and he loves to tease, pulling his cock from his boxers when he can’t bare another second of not touching it. he’s big, and he loves to talk about what he’ll do to you. he wastes no time, making sure to pleasure himself and you as efficiently as possible, he’s a master of dirty talk, especially with that commanding voice of his.

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if-loves · 3 months

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consume

// Yandere Jiaoqiu

sum: The fastest way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. Or so they say.

wc: 871

warnings: written before jiaoqiu release (probably OOC jq), mentions of drugs and implied drugging, fem reader

a/n: sorry for the disappearance i had exams xd take whatever this is as compensation

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

When Jiaoqiu loves, he does so wholly. He gives his heart and some, devotes his being, and allows the love to consume him. He feels the warmth rush over him, and he can’t help the smile that lives on his lips, the happiness that blooms in his chest.

He loves until he is squeezed dry, until the warmth disappears, until that happiness dies and the love spits him out; but he takes it all in stride, for as a foxian, his time in this mortal world is but a flicker compared to the rest of the Xianzhou’s inhabitants.

When Jiaoqiu meets you, he is instantaneously enamored. You are, to him, love personified, the one life in this universe made for him. He’s known it since the moment he saw you, and the feeling is only amplified when he speaks to you. Something in him, desperate and lovesick, calls for you.

You’re introduced as a healer from the Luofu, sent to the Yaoqing on an exchange between ships. You, like him, are a foxian, a pair of fluffy ears on the top of your head, and a cute bushy tail on your back. Naturally, you’re under his care.

While you are capable, you are also terribly shy around him. You only speak when spoken to, and you do your job dutifully, with no complaints. You’re independent, and Jiaoqiu can’t help but lament that. He wants you to depend on him, to see him as a reliable senior, someone you can turn to even if you’re not in a pinch. He wants you, yet you don’t seem to want him too.

So, he courts you the best way he knows how. There’s a saying that goes something like “the fastest to a person’s heart is through their stomach”, and although biologically inaccurate (the actual fastest way is through the veins), holds true - no one can resist food made with love, not even someone like you. Everyone must eat, and why pay for a meal when one sits in front of you for free?

The smile on his face is infectious.

~~~

With every passing day, the meals become more intricate. What started with simple stir fried dishes became more complex meals that could only be found in restaurants, all handmade by him. He watches as you eat all of them with a smile, happiness radiating off your figure as your ears twitch and your tail wags in unmistakable contentment. The food is good, yes. The drug has managed to slip in unnoticed as well.

It’s easy for him, really. Jiaoqiu doesn’t need to search for an alchemist, nor a chef. He is both, and he has more than enough knowledge and skills in both fields to be able to incorporate them in his work. Concocting a drug is just as easy as cooking a heartfelt meal, especially when it’s for the same person.

He is quite happy to know that you enjoy both.

~~~

It’s with a smile on your face that you tell him that you’ve applied to stay on the Yaoqing permanently, to stay by his side. You cite that learning under him was like exploring the galaxy, boundless knowledge awaiting you, and his home cooked meals always bring you warmth, like the embrace of a mother.

He takes all of your words to heart, a blush spreading across his face as you turn away. He vaguely feels his tail swaying drunkenly, and he feels like he’s the one who’s been drugged. He knows that this is the influence of the drugs he has been feeding you, but he cannot help but feel elated at your words. You complimented him… You want to stay because of him… You want to stay for him…

Jiaoqiu decides to invite you over for dinner, to celebrate the occasion.

~~~

Perhaps he went a bit overboard with the dose, or perhaps he wanted this to happen. Whatever the reason, Jiaoqiu has filled your meal with aphrodisiacs, and a lot more than usual.

To see them take so quickly was honestly a surprise to him, but he could not complain of the way you started to cling to him, digging your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. The heat radiating off of your body told him plenty, and he did not mind. No, he didn’t mind at all, not even a single bit.

When you lift your head from his neck, your lips meet his, a collision of desire and lust, born from expertly manipulated strings. When you part, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you, and Jiaoqiu thinks he would like to swallow you whole.

When he brings you to the most intimate room in his home, and when you show each other your most vulnerable sides, he thinks it’s okay if everything isn’t so natural. Healing nowadays is aided by many external factors, love is no different. All you needed was a little push, just like how people need a little medicine to help their bodies fight off their illnesses.

When his mouth finds the junction between your neck and your shoulder, he licks and sucks, and finally sinks his canines in.

You’d let him consume you whole, wouldn’t you?

#honkai star rail #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #hsr #yandere x reader #fem reader #female reader #jiaoqiu #yandere jiaoqiu #yandere jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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That’s Not My Neighbor (1) | Yandere Bnha

“I’m sure you didn’t have a nose piercing the last time I spoke with you, Mister Kirishima. Besides you're not on today's list.”

“Wait it’s not what you think please–”

“Sorry.”

As apathetic as your reasoning you clicked the button and began to dial the D.D.D. It didn’t matter that there was frantic and harsh banging against the closed metal doors. All that did matter was that the shouts and struggles of D.D.D agents were quieting down. The metallic door came up to show the mysterious build of the building’s agent.

“The cleaning protocol is completed. You may continue your job.”

“Thank you.”

You look down to reorganize and once over the documents you had; stopping when you find the agent still standing in front of your window, gas mask, and all.

“Do you need something?”

Instead of apologizing or defending themselves they simply stood there. Rolling your eyes you put the documents down, sending a light glare. They were in the way of possible residents. Which means wasting time on your shift.

It was three minutes before a voice crackled again.

“You—took up more shifts.”

Resisting the urge to sneer you took to restacking your papers while you answered.

“I did. Is there a problem?”

“I thought the other guy would be here at this time.”

Refusing to hide your anger this time you slammed your papers down as you leaned back in the chair.

“On the books he is but he had an emergency so I’m filling in, my shift is next anyway.”

“...Are you getting paid for this?”

So that was why…You sighed, no longer scrunching your eyebrows. Flashing a small smile you straightened your posture.

“He owes me a favor and lunch; so I’ll be okay.”

They stood a little while longer before bowing their head and making their way out of the building. You wondered if this meant one of you was going to get fired. Pushing that aside you continued to look ahead waiting for the next possible resident to walk through.

Your gaze was so fixed on the window you failed to hear the squeaking of the door of your office and the steps behind your back. Only squealing when your chair suddenly twirled around to reveal an intruder.

“HIya (Y/n)!”

“Eeep!”

“Don’t get so nervous just wanted to stop by!”

It was Denki Kaminari, resident in F2-03 shared with Hitoshi Shinso, piercings on his ears, yellow hair with a black stripe, and an occasionally derpy look on his face. His current employment is as a private electrician, which means he’s often called out for emergencies and may not always be on the list.

Which he isn’t because he’s got the day off.

“Sir Kaminari please don’t surprise me like that. I am working.”

“Sir?! Ouch, (Y/n) you wound me!”

He fakes a shot to the heart wobbling around before dramatically falling onto the floor.

“It’s not healthy to take a job as dangerous as harshly as you do. You know all the residents have countermeasures.”

It’s Shinso Hitoshi, a private detective, and D.D.D reporter, with crazy purple hair and eyes with bags under them, and a hanging earring on his left ear. He also isn’t on the list today. Figures, his work is sporadic and Shinso is an insomniac homebody.

“Yes, but my job is meant so that you won’t have to use them. I must stay vigilant against Doppelgangers.”

He sighs and scratches at his unruly head. He kicks his partner who is still playing dead on the floor. Kaminari stands up swiftly to once again invade your space as you fail to scoot your chair away.

“So have you eaten today?”

You pushed him away, turning to your window once again, scanning the perimeter before speaking over your shoulder.

“I keep myself hydrated when I’m working.”

Shinso sucked his teeth, coming to your right side as he glances at the files you’ve neatly organized. Kaminari follows his lead going on the opposite side to poke at your phone and the list. You swatted his hands away.

“That doesn’t sound like an answer.”

You sighed, “Relax. My coworker promised to give me lunch as compensation for taking his shift.”

What should have soothed their worries instead made them more upset. Both of them glaring at you.

“If he’s going to give you lunch but you're taking his shift today, that means you’re not eating lunch today.”

“Yeah..what he said!”

You sighed again standing from the chair to turn the both of them away. Putting your foot down–you cross your arms and look at them with your customer-service smile,” As an extension of D.D.D I’m tasked with not only guarding the door from doppelgangers but protecting my health.

Kaminari was making that infamous dumb face and Shinso was just about mirroring him.”

Nonetheless, you continued,” It’s important to the D.D.D that their door people are in their best working conditions and I am paid handsomely to do that. “

Shinso was the first to try to speak narrowing his eyes as though he was questioning the validity of the statement.

“Wait, hold on–”

But you continued, “If you have any complaints, please call the non-emergency number if you’d like to make a complaint.”

As if timed perfectly a knocking at the glass had you hurriedly hopping and turning in your chair to look through the window. Looking more exhausted than Hitoshi was what looked like the teacher Aizawa Shouta, who was glaring at the couple past your head.

“I’m about to file a complaint if you don’t check my ID and Entry request.”

“Sorry sir. Right away sir.”

Nothing was out of line, everything matched and thus you let him in. A passing glance at the reflection behind you showed both of them sporting an annoyed grimace. Sending a side–eye to the grumpy teacher their gazes were still fixed on you.

“(Y/n) if you’re the only one working you need to take an appropriate break.”

“I already said–”

“No (Y/n) whether the D.D.D okays it or not this isn’t healthy.”

Hitoshi’s interruption was a lot harsher than his usual speech, the kind you imagined he used when speaking to captured doppelgangers. It made your skin crawl and the hairs on your arms stand up.

Feeling the heat of someone’s breath on your neck, you hadn’t noticed Kaminari closing the gap between you two. You wanted to turn but you could feel his arms cross over the arms of the chair trapping you in your seat and leaving you far too close to look him in the eye.

“I think as concerned neighbors we ought to intervene. What do you say Hito?”

“Guys I haven’t been working that long really–”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

Taking advantage of the wheels on your chair Kaminari pulled you away from the desk, holding you in your chair to the doorway leading to the apartments. Hitoshi made quick work of your station closing everything locking the doors and closing the office window slot.

“But there’s only one more for my shift please—at least let them in!”

At your behest, Hitoshi rolled his eyes looking at the list of expected tenants before scowling at the one uncrossed name on the list.

“I honestly think having a doppelganger is better than him.”

You wanted to protest but Kaminari quite easily tossed you over his shoulder as he skipped down the hall. Watch from your bobbing perspective as Hitoshi easily locks up your office with your backpack in hand. How did he know where the key is?

Trying to speak up, you were shaken by Kaminari trying to get your attention with his smile as though he wasn’t abducting you.

“So what should we have for lunch (Y/n)? Beans and Rice? Meatballs? Katsudon?”

“Come on (Y/n). He’s not going to stop until you say what you’re going to eat.”

700 notes · View notes

nvuy · 3 months

Note

jiaoqiu.

i always think about jiaoqiu with his little worker partner. his little busy bee. his little sleep deprived mess that he loves so much.

the thing with jiaoqiu is that not only is this man the most fuzziest cuddle thing in the world—and during the colder months especially he becomes a ginormous soft blanket with how his tail instinctively curls over you—but he’s also your personal chef.

obviously, if you’re sick, he’ll see to your symptoms and take care of you himself.

but, even just for everyday meals. maybe your job is much more gruelling than his. maybe you start an hour before he does in the morning.

your alarm goes off every morning, and he wakes up with you. a lot of the time you fight in his hold, half because he’s so warm and it’s so cold outside and you’d much rather remain in bed and trace his twitchy ears all day with your thumb (and hope you can hear those gentle squeaky purrs you know he can make), and the other half because the sleep deprivation is really catching up to you.

even if he’s not a morning person, and he’s a little bit grouchy he prepares coffee, even if you insist he doesn’t have to.

“oh, don’t be silly,” he mumbles tiredly one morning into your hair. he’s still in his pyjamas while you’re almost fully dressed. “if i don’t cook for you, you won’t even eat all day.”

well. he’s not wrong.

he’ll make and pack you lunch to take to work every single day. usually, he’ll prepare meals depending on what you need; more protein, more iron, more fibre, whatever, whatever. he’ll mix in vitamins to help you as he sees fit.

he’ll also sneak snacks. he tries to avoid chocolate or sugary treats. and prefers to cut up some fruit, or sneak in a nut bar or something.

but sometimes when he knows you’re having a particularly rough week at work, he’ll give you something special. and he’ll prepare dessert after dinner. nothing major. he’s not really a baker, so it’s usually treats picked up from the bakery when he goes out to buy bread.

after you finally come into the kitchen in the morning to leave for work, you’re just as bone tired as he is while you’re putting on your shoes.

jiaoqiu comes over slowly and hands you three containers. there’s few words exchanged; you’re both way too exhausted. it’s six in the morning.

he’s wearing bunny slippers and they skid and slip across the floor as he then hands you coffee in a travel cup before he leans forward and presses a kiss to your hair.

you work harder. he knows. you work longer hours. your job is much more physically and mentally taxing. he loves his job. you… not so much.

he compensates by working hard at home for you. there’s always the smell of something cooking when you walk through the door. and though you insist you’ll clean the dishes, he always ends up taking over with a reassuring kiss to your head.

bedtime is his favourite. his absolute favourite. especially if he knows you have the day off tomorrow.

if he knows you’re in the mood, he’ll tease. just a little bit. fleeting whispers in your ear, and the soft brush of his tail against your thighs.

most nights, though, you’ll fall into his arms and he’ll bury his nose into the side of your neck.

he knows your sleep schedule is fucked to bits. that won’t deter him though. sneaking melatonin in food is easy, but for the most part, jiaoqiu ensures that the food he cooks for you everyday provides enough nutrients to get you through the day.

and hey!!!! bonus on your day offs in the morning!!!!! as a reward for being such a lovely little malewife, you retrieve the brush from the nightstand and slowly detangle the knots in his tail. and the kisses he peppers you in while his tail frantically wags side to side are always worth it.

#✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )#jiaoqiu x reader #( more painful self indulgence )#( nobody can stop me )

712 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 2 years

Note

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended.

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day.

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.)

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of.

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes.

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade.

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour.

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high.

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part.

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that.

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater.

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start.

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer.

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right?

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his.

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night.

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth.

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust.

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 8 days

Note

Hii!!! Your blog is literally so perfect. Love it.

Could you recommend some more angsty fics where either Derek or Stiles is really insecure and has low self esteem? Happy ending only, if that’s alright. I really appreciate it!

Aw thanks anon! There's already an insecure!stiles tag so I focused on insecure!derek.

The (Tell-Tale) Heart Doesn’t Lie by novemberhush

(1/1 I 100 I General I Sterek)

After a little gentle teasing unexpectedly hits a nerve with Derek Stiles is quick to reassure him that he knows there’s more to the handsome werewolf than just being really, really, really ridiculously good-looking.

I Know the Pieces Fit by shealynn88

(1/1 I 2,700 I Teen)

“Stiles?”

It’s Derek’s voice, quiet in the dark with the low hum of the pack behind him.

Derek's the hardest one for Stiles to understand. Sometimes he thinks…but then it becomes clear, it’s not like that. Derek tolerates him. Appreciates his loyalty, at least. The way Stiles appreciates the brave hiss of a kitten. Cute. Admirable. But not equal.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell

(1/1 I 8,695 I Mature)

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It's clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles's body can't help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It's not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn't the first-- and most likely won't be the last-- hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Cliche by adult_disneyprincess (orphan_account)

(2/2 I 9,305 I Teen)

It’s cliché as shit, Stiles thinks. The nerd in love with the punk. He figures he wouldn’t want Derek Hale so much if he didn’t have those fucking tattoos everywhere, didn’t give a shit what people thought about him, and didn’t wear those stupid leather jackets. They’re not the same jacket either, Stiles has counted at least four different ones that the resident punk owns

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit

(1/1 I 18,010 I Teen)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

Defying Convention by rororowyourboat

(13/13 I 24,331 I Teen)

Stiles is a newly certified fully-trained Spark, and he's on the market to chose a werewolf pack to act as Emissary for. The biggest problem? Almost every pack in North America wants him, and he's supposed to choose a pack at the 3-day conference. But how's he supposed to get to know any of the likely candidates when they're just being so damn polite and respectful?

Derek and his sisters are at the conference with bleak hopes: their pack was decimated by hunters years ago and their caustic attitudes have turned away most potential applicants.

Rarity by peanutbutter4lyfe

(8/8 I 29,837 I Explicit)

Derek let's the guys throw a party for Stiles' 18th at his loft and instantly regrets it. During the party Derek starts acting strangely, his senses going wild. He reads the signs and thinks Scott is his mate. It drives him crazy when Scott doesn't feel the same, until he figures it out... with a little help from Peter.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 58,399 I Teen)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated)

Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #bamf!stiles #anon #fake/pretend relationship

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atomicladytimetravel · 9 months

Text

Employees Only

Summary: No outbreak AU. Joel Miller owns Miller Contracting and you are his assistant. When Joel gets the bid from a huge client, he celebrates by doing what any sane man would do…banging the assistant.

Warnings: Porn with very little plot. Drug use (marijuana), Boss/Employee relations, Smut/Explicit. Contains sex under the influence of marijuana, nipple play/stimulation, oral (f and m receiving) light gagging, fingering, Joel’s a little cocky about his dick (pun intended). Joel is a simp for you. No physical description of reader, other than female.

18+ only - MDNI

Friday. Fucking finally. Not only is it the end of your work week, but it’s also the end of you spending longer evenings than usual helping your boss put together a bid for one of the biggest clients he could ever hope to acquire. You can’t do any real complaining though - Joel made sure you were well compensated for your extra time and (let’s just face it) he sure is fun to look at. Not to mention the, you know, huge fucking crush you’ve had on the man for…well, for probably about as long as you’ve worked for him. Suffice to say, you’d do juuuuust about anything Joel asked you to do.

You’re making your way to your favorite hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, the air conditioning in your car blasting to combat the sweltering Texas heat. You have to pass the small office building that houses Miller Contracting on your way to get to the Chinese place and, even though it’s damn near ten o’clock, Joel’s old pickup truck still sits in its usual parking space. Curious, you pull out your phone and select his name from your recent call log. He answers on the first ring.

“Now why are you callin’ me this late darlin’?” he drawls. His speech is raspy and a little slow; he sounds so fucking sexy.

“Oh no reason really, just wondering why I see your truck parked at the office,” you respond. He chuckles a little.

“You stalkin’ me or something?”

You smile and roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“In your dreams, Miller,” you retort playfully. “I’m on my way to get some food and I just so happened to pass by.”

“Well, I was gonna wait until Monday and tell you in person, but…Avalon Premier Hotels accepted our bid.”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you hear yourself gasp.

“Joel, oh my god! That’s incredible news!” you squeal excitedly. On the other end of the call, Joel thinks to himself that he would very much like to hear those first four words again in a much different context.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel has been smitten since you stepped foot in his office for the first time. He internally cursed his HR department that day for hiring the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But they had done just as he’d asked and hired the best damn person for the job. Joel has told you on more than one occasion that he has no idea how he made it without you.

“I’m just over here celebrating a little. The sound system Tommy insisted we put in the employee lounge outdoes mine by a long shot and I wanted to hear some music,” he explains further. “You should come join me. You know I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You look down at your outfit - a tank top, no bra and a pair of what are quite possibly the shortest shorts you own - and contemplate the offer. You remember you’re off the clock and think, “the hell with it, he can’t dress code me now.”

“Sure,” you accept. “You want some Chinese food?”

——————

When you open the front door to the office, you’re immediately hit by the pungent aroma of marijuana. Ah, now his slow, raspy speech makes sense. When you enter the employee lounge, you find Joel manspread on the couch, a fat blunt dangling from his lips. He’s changed out of the button up you had drooled over all day and into a Miller Contracting t-shirt that hugged his delicious biceps. Nirvana is playing loudly over the sound system and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you plop the food down on the coffee table. His eyes rake over your body unashamedly and you find yourself blushing under his gaze. He reaches for the remote and turns the music down.

“God damn sugar, I didn’t realize I’d be gettin’ dinner and a show.”

“It’s like 103 degrees right now Joel. Besides, I’m off the clock,” you remind him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing,” he winks. You eye him suspiciously, but he just smiles innocently. He pats the couch cushion next to him and when you sit down, he holds the blunt to your lips. “You deserve t’relax a little, too.”

You take the blunt between your lips and inhale the smoke, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling through your nose. You’re not exactly a stranger to pot, but it has been a while since you’ve smoked any. It doesn’t take long at all for the foggy feeling to take over, your body feeling weightless. The munchies kick in soon after, and you and Joel practically inhale the Chinese food. As you eat, another blunt is passed back and forth and you’re soon the highest you can ever remember being.

Joel cleans up the remnants of your dinner and you sink into the couch cushions, your fuzzy brain content to just stare at nothing. When he returns, he sits so close to you that your thighs touch. He leans back and throws his arm around the cushion behind you. You’re close enough to smell his cologne and that plus the fact that he’s so close makes you want him, bad.

“This may have been a bad idea. Weed makes me so horny,” you say. You had wholeheartedly intended for that to be a thought and not something you said aloud to your boss. You’re mortified when you realize that the words actually came out of your mouth. Before you can even attempt to apologize, though, Joel responds.

“Oh yeah? You want some help with that?” He looks down at you expectantly and you stare back at him blankly for a moment before answering.

“I…y-yeah, yes,” you stammer. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled onto his lap; the fabric of your shorts is thin and you can feel just how hard he already is beneath the denim of his jeans. He kisses you with the passion of someone who’s been starved of affection. He holds you tightly close to his body, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“Please tell me this is real,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“It’s real,” you giggle, resting your forehead against his.

“You are so pretty. Absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says softly. You kiss again, open mouthed and tongues swirling together. You grind your hips onto him, trying to relieve the aching between your thighs. He puts his hands on your hips to stop them.

“Ain’t gotta do all that now. I’ll take care of ya soon, understand?” he says sternly. You let out a tiny, pathetic whimper but nod in agreement. He shakes his head and uses his pointer finger to tap your lips.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

“Yes what?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s a good girl. Fuck, I just knew you would be. You want to be my good girl, hm?”

The whole time he’s been talking, his hands have been roaming farther and farther under your tank top. His fingertips brushing against your skin makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Yes sir,” you reply in a voice barely above a whisper.

He’s cupping your breasts now, thumbs swiping repeatedly over your nipples. The urge to grind on him again is overwhelming, but you hold still. You whine softly when he removes his hands and he shushes you.

“Relax sweet thing. I just want to get this shirt off of ya is all.”

He pushes the shirt up your torso and you raise your arms to let him pull it over your head. He groans appreciatively at the sight of your breasts and pushes them together before burying his face between them.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbles against your skin. He puts his mouth all over your breasts, sucking and nibbling and making you want to rock your hips so badly you can hardly stand it. You gasp softly when he latches on to your nipple, sucking until the bud has hardened. When he switches to the other side, you can’t help but roll your hips, craving some sort of relief.

“Ah, ah,” he admonishes, his hands holding onto your hips firmly. “What did I say?”

“I’m sorry,” you pout. “I just need you to touch me so bad sir.”

“Oh, is that all?” he teases, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He pinches both nipples between his fingers gently. “How’s this?”

“It feels good, but I need more sir.”

“Hmmm…no, I think I’ll see if I can make you cum like this first.”

No one has ever tried to make you orgasm this way, and you’re not even sure it’s possible. You tell him this, but he just shakes his head.

“Can I try? If it doesn’t work for you, we can move on, I promise.”

“Yes sir, you can try.”

He smiles softly and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to squeeze a little harder, just let me know if you start feelin’ anything besides good.”

It feels amazing. Pleasure surges through you and you tip your head back, your hands gripping onto his shoulders to keep you steady. He alternates between pinching and rolling and you concentrate on the throbbing between your legs. He squeezes just a bit harder and it feels so good that a drawn out moan passes through your lips.

“Yeah sugar? How’s that feel?” he asks.

“Good. R-really good,” you respond breathlessly. “Maybe a little harder.”

“How’s this baby?” he asks as he pinches a little harder. There’s a little pain this time, but it’s a delicious kind of hurt.

“Oh!” you gasp, surprised to feel the stirrings of an orgasm. “Don’t stop please, it feels so good.”

“You’re doing so good baby,” he praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your throat. He keeps the pressure and rolls your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your eyes flutter and your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“You’re close aren’tcha? What a good girl; go ahead and let it go baby.”

With his encouragement, an orgasm washes over you and you hear yourself shouting his name. With one hand still tweaking a nipple, he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady as you shake above him. When you come down, your eyes open to see Joel looking at you with a mix of awe and adoration.

“That was the most beautiful god damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says before capturing your lips in a needy kiss. He sets you gently back on the couch and stands above you, squeezing the length of his cock through his jeans.

“God damn, I swear I stay hard for you,” he groans. “You know how many times I’ve shot my load thinkin’ ‘bout you?”

“Probably as many times as I’ve made myself cum thinking about you.”

“You mean we coulda been doin’ this all along?” he asks, still palming himself through his jeans. You lean back into the corner of the couch and press your middle finger to your clit over your shorts while you watch him; something about the action turns you on so much.

“You’re my boss Joel,” you point out.

“I also own this company doll. I can do whatever I want,” he reminds you. He pulls his shirt over his head and you finally get to see the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. His shoulders are broad and his arms are thick. His midsection is soft, but you can still see v-lines disappearing into his jeans. He undresses down to his boxer briefs and you watch, mesmerized, when he slowly pulls his belt through its loops. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been more turned on. He kneels in front of you and taps your hip, signaling for you to lift them.

“Up,” he commands. You lift your hips and he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. He drags them down your legs and is pleasantly surprised to see your lack of panties.

“No bra, no panties? What a naughty girl,” he tuts.

“Told ya I was dressed for comfort.”

He doesn’t respond, just tosses the shorts aside and admires your naked form.

“I can’t get over how gorgeous you are,” he says, shaking his head. He showers your body with kisses, sucking occasionally on your most sensitive places. You’ll be covered in hickeys later, splotchy red and purple reminders of how Joel worships your body. He places his palms on the insides of your knees and spreads them, giving himself a view of your glistening pussy. He spreads your lips with his first two fingers to admire what he considers a work of art.

“Look how pretty,” he murmurs. Before you can utter a response, he leans in and licks you from opening to clit. He alternates between this and kitten licking your clit and you have to fight yourself to not start riding his face.

“Fuck, you got the sweetest little pussy darlin’,” he groans into your center. He hooks his arms behind your knees and begins to eat you out with fervor. He swirls patterns on your clit with his tongue, dipping it into your entrance every now and then. You’re enjoying it too much to notice that he spells “J O E L” on your clit with his tongue, silently claiming your pussy as his.

“Mmm, fuck Joel, it feels so good,” you whine. You feel two thick fingers slide into your entrance and you buck your hips at the sensation. He flattens his free hand over your belly and pins you to the couch cushions. He curls his fingers into your g-spot as his tongue continues to flick over your clit and your moans mix with the wet squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Joel, oh my god!” you shout, your head falling back onto the arm of the couch. And there they were, those four words he’d wished to hear just over an hour ago. He’s never heard anything so beautiful in his life. You hear him moan and you lift your head to watch him. His eyes are hooded and his free hand is in his boxers stroking his cock. It’s undoubtedly one of the hottest things you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Oh god I’m so close,” you moan. He sucks your clit once, twice and on the third time, you come apart for him. He can’t help the satisfied smile on his face as he watches you tremble, his name tumbling from your lips like a chant. When he pulls his fingers out, they’re shiny with your spend. He spreads them apart and a string of fluid connects them.

“Look at the mess you made for me baby,” he marvels. He brings his fingers to your lips and you open for him; you suck his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact. You hear him moan softly when you swirl your tongue around the digits. He stands and you can see how painfully hard he is through his boxer briefs. You can’t help but stare at the outline of his cock, wondering how he walks around with that thing between his legs. He sees you staring and smirks.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” he asks.

“Yes sir,” you nod, blushing a little at being caught staring. You watch in anticipation as he pulls his underwear down, cock springing free and practically smacking him in the stomach. Your eyes widen when you see his size. He’s thick and probably around eight or nine inches. He wraps a hand around it and strokes a few times.

“Think you can put it in your mouth for me? I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock,” he says, smoothing his other hand over your hair.

“Yes sir, wanna make you feel good,” you respond obediently, sitting up from your reclined position.

“Oh, what a good girl,” he praises. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck the precum seeping out.

“Oh fuuuuuck baby girl,” he rasps. You hollow out your cheeks and slowly inch him in your mouth. You put your hands on his hips as you bob your head back and forth. His hand flies to your hair when you pull all the way back to his tip before plunging him down your throat. You gag a little bit and pull back some, tears prickling at your eyes. You repeat the process until there are tears trickling down your cheeks.

“Shit baby, you give such good fuckin’ head,” he says through gritted teeth. “Look at ya, chokin’ on my cock.”

He lets you gag a few more times before he pulls your head back gently. He looks down at you sweetly and wipes the tears from your cheeks before offering his hand to help you up.

“You did so good f’me baby, gaggin’ on this big cock like a pro. I wanna stuff that pretty pussy now, though. Get on your knees f’me.”

You settle onto your knees, resting your palms on the back of the couch. A stinging smack lands on your right ass cheek and you moan.

“There’s that gorgeous ass I love to look at,” he says, squeezing it appreciatively. He lays his palm flat on your lower back, his other hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He pushes the tip into your entrance and your walls stretch around him. He’s a bit bigger than anything you’ve taken before and it stings for just a moment, making you whimper.

“I know it’s big baby girl. I’m gonna go slow,” he coos. He rubs his thumbs in soothing circles on your hips as he inches himself inside.

“You’re doin’ so good, takin’ me so well,” he praises.

“Oh fuck, I’m so full,” you moan when he’s fully sheathed inside you.

“Yeah baby? You like bein’ full of my big cock?”

“God yeah, it feels so good.”

He squeezes your hips affectionately as he sets a languid pace. He’s only been inside you for a minute and you know that no other man will be good enough ever again.

“Fuck, this is the best god damn pussy I’ve ever had,” he says, as if reading your mind. “Like it was made just for me.”

You begin to push back and meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in sync. His grip on your ass is so tight that you’re sure half moon shaped indentions will be left behind from his fingernails.

“That’s it baby, bounce back on my dick,” he grits out. He smacks your ass and groans appreciatively as it ripples underneath his palm. “Does it feel good baby, hmm? Tell me how good it feels, lemme hear you.”

“F-feels so good. You’re making my little pussy feel s-so fucking good.”

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you up so that your bodies are flush; he moves your hair aside and puts his lips to your ear as his thrusts become faster and more aggressive.

“I’m gonna destroy your pussy this weekend baby,” he says in a gravelly whisper. “I’ve been waitin’ so long. Might have to carry you into work Monday.”

“Oh god, please,” you mewl in response.

“Yeah baby? You’d like that huh, takin’ this cock all weekend?”

“Yes, oh god yes, your cock feels so good!”

He reaches around to toy with your clit and your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant. He rubs your clit faster, pressing a frenzied kiss to your lips.

“That’s it, give it to me baby girl. Cum all over my cock.”

You grab onto his forearm to steady yourself as you cum hard around him. He talks you through it, whispering lowly in your ear.

“There ya go baby, let it go. Doing so good f’me darlin’.”

Once you’ve come back to earth, he pulls out gently and sits down on the couch. He takes you by the hand and guides you to straddle him again.

“I wanna see you baby,” he explains. “You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

You sink onto his cock and he rests his hands on your hips. He guides your hips back and forth slowly and it feels so good that you attempt to speed up.

“No baby, let’s go slow,” he says, looking into your eyes. “Just enjoy this with me, yeah?”

You smile softly, saying, “yes sir” before grabbing his face and kissing him. His arms wrap around your torso and he holds you close, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“I want you to be my girl. Tell me you’ll be my girl baby.”

You respond without hesitation, “I’m yours Joel, all yours.”

The two of you share another kiss; Joel can no longer hold back and he plants his feet firmly on the ground so that he can thrust up into you.

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine,” he pants. “My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Oh god,” you whimper as he pounds into your g-spot. “Joel, fuck baby, I’m so close.”

“Me too baby girl. Should I pull out?”

“No! I want you inside me. Fuck, I want to feel you cum inside me so bad.”

“God damn, dirty little thing,” he grunts. “Gonna fill this little pussy so much.”

“Oh god, I’m cumming,” you announce, clenching around his cock. A chorus of, “fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck YES,” comes from your mouth. Joel makes a deep, guttural sound and spills inside of you, hugging your trembling body tight.

“Shit,” you giggle breathlessly.

“Yeah? Good?” he asks hopefully, just as breathless as you are.

“Good? Amazing. Incredible.”

He grins and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I could actually go again. How about you let me take you back to my place and I’ll put you in my jetted tub, hm? We’ll take a nice bath, maybe smoke a little more and then I’ll fuck you to sleep. How’s that sound?”

It’s your turn to grin and you give him a long, burning kiss.

“Sounds like an offer I can’t pass up.”

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou series #tlou smut

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jade-jini · 9 months

Note

omg thank youuuuu g!p loser reader x sana pls 🥺💕

(Perfect moment to bring Sha-rich AHHH)

Daddy’s rich girl who “works” at the company as well with you. Unlike her, you worked your way up to an important position in the company. You invested time, worked and studied hard, and had a position almost as important as her. Almost. Of course nobody could ever have more power than the owner’s daughter, right?

However, the fact that you were able to have such position already spoke a lot about how smart you were. Not a lot of people, specially at such a young age, could get there. If they didn’t know who Sana was, they’d wonder how tf is she technically your superior. Specially when you’re the one who basically does all the work for her.

“Y/n-ssiii” she called in her respective animated tone. You were talking with some coworkers in their desks when you quickly looked at her and gave her all your attention, feeling already cheered up at the sound of her pretty voice.

“Yes, Ms. Minatozaki?” You answered sweetly with those heart eyes you could hardly hide from others, happy to see her already ‘cause you were wondering when was she gonna get to the office (lost puppy behavior-). You knew it was common for her to just show up at any time she wanted to.

“Father has assigned me some hard hard work.” She said with a pout as she showed you a folder. “and I need the help and guidance of the smartest person here, Aka you. No offense, ladies.” She said as she gifted a charismatic smile and wink to the young secretaries you were previously talking to.

Everybody knew that when Sana said “help her”, it meant that you were gonna do all the work for her.

You, of course, would have gladly accepted right away, but you were full of work too, and wanted to take things slow this week rather than having to focus on working hard on your and her work as well. Again.

“I’d love to, but I also have this project and I act-” you tried to explained but she stopped you, already feeling bored hearing the excuse.

“Ah! This is important, y/n. You wouldn’t want our ceo to be missing such an important part of his presentation for this week, presentation that I remind you, you’re part of, right? Or is it that you can’t handle being part of it? ‘Cause If you can’t I can find somebody else that-” now it was your turn to interrupt.

“No!” You quickly said grabbing the folder from her hands. For some reason the idea of somebody else spending time with Sana like that made you horribly jealous (territorial puppy?). It felt like it had more than one meaning. It was more than just somebody helping her with work. “I can do it, ma’am. I’ll have it ready as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great! See you soon in my office.” She said with a big smile as she softly touched your forearm before leaving. You simply sighed, wondering why was it so hard to resist her. You turned around once her silhouette disappeared, just to see your coworkers looking at you and shaking their heads. You shrugged, and excused yourself to your own office to start working.

Some people would think Sana is using you to look good in front of her daddy and his important partners. You had coworkers looking at you with sad eyes, feeling empathetic about “the poor sunbaenim who is too good to say no and has to work so daddy’s girl doesn’t show how unprepared she actually is for this business”. Most of the people in the company liked Sana though, she was charismatic and that’s something that can get you far in life as well. You appreciated her qualities, and saw beyond. But of course there were always those few employees…

“Y/n sunbaenim should be the one with her position”

“Seriously, she’s so qualified. How unfair” some coworkers would whisper. What they didn’t know is that Sana was compensating you and very well for your help with her job.

In her own particular way.

“y/n! Oh my god. y/n~.”

Sana’s moans were getting loud to the point you were starting to concern that some people might be able to hear you guys from outside her office. But being drunk in her taste, you couldn’t care less about that. And Sana didn’t care at all when she was feeling this good, at the end of the day she (her dad-) owned this place. Who was gonna fire her?

You were almost naked, your upper body exposed, your wrists tied behind the chair you were seated on. Your pants were still on though, and your boner was already hurting but you didn’t dare to complain, focus on the task given to you. Not any important report that she needed to have on her daddy’s desk by the end of the week, or any structure analysis of who gives a fuck. No. right now the only thing that mattered was Making Ms. Minatozaki come in your mouth.

But how did you even get here today? Let me explain, it’s easy.

“Ms. Minatozaki, I brought you the latest report as you asked, with updates about last week’s movements in the graphs that our investment teams have been working on.” You said as you entered the woman’s office, several papers in hand battling not to fall as you fixed your glasses how you could.

Right as you stepped a foot on her office, she closed the door with your back against it and locking it behind your back, making you drop your documents and gasp in surprise “w-what’s going on, Ms. Mi-” but you couldn’t finish your question, as she started kissing you like she hasn’t seen you in years. You were caught off guard, moaning in her mouth as you grabbed her forearms. You always loved when Sana kissed you, sometimes you just wished she’d warn you before doing it out of a sudden.

“Ma’am, please, w-wait” you asked, feeling her hand traveling down to palm your dick over your pants “oh god…not there please…”

“Why not? I’m sure it misses me.” The older woman teased with a smirk, trying her best not to laugh. She went to leave wet kisses on your neck, biting it and grabbing your cock more ‘till she was basically masturbating you over your pants.

“Ms, Wait- fuck~ wait! Sana, wait!” You moaned, feeling weak in her hands, containing yourself from simply surrender to her touch was such a hard task, and slowly your brain almost forgot why would you even try to do it anyways.

“You have no idea how much it turns me on when you call me Ms. Minatozaki.” She whispered next to your ear, to then let out a mischievous giggle. “Although my name sounds just as good when it comes from your pretty lips, baby~” Sana teased, and went back to your neck, undoing your tie and shirt. Your trembling hands slowly tried to go to her lower back, but she had other plans “Ah Ah! You’re not using those right now, come here puppy.” Sana guided you to a chair she had in her office, and softly pushed you until you were seated. As she straddled you and went back to kissing you deeply, you didn’t realize that she tied your hands behind your back with your own tie until she stepped up to get something from her drawer and you tried to move.

“Sana? What’s going on?” You asked as you tilted your head, confused but clearly excited, already feeling your member pulsating, needing attention and missing the pressure Sana was giving it when seated on your lap. She was right. Your whole body missed her. Even when you guys hooked up very often you always wanted more of her.

“Nothing we haven’t done before, pretty puppy” she said as she showed you the leash and collar she bought just for you, with a blindfold as well, biting her lip clearly as eager as you were to start.

Oh.

“You wanna do that here?!” You asked her, clearly surprised.

“What, are you gonna tell me you don’t want it?” She asked back giving you a “you know damn right” look. Sana knew, you could never tell her no.

“… no ma’am.”

And that’s how you ended in the position you were in.

“That’s it baby, keep going like that. I’m gonna come~” you heard the older woman say as you basically fucked her pussy with your tongue, and you wished you could see her facial expressions but again, you didn’t dare to complain, not wanting to be punished. Even though you couldn’t see her, all of your other senses were very awake. The taste of her pussy against your tongue, making you drool creating a mess on her cunt as you felt some of it on your chin. The sounds of her voice moaning your name, as praises also filled the air. The sensation of the leash being pulled, keeping you as close as possible to her. Everything was having you on edge. You felt you could almost come untouched just by pleasing this woman.

Just as she stated, Sana came in your mouth, holding the leash and your head in place as she grabbed your hair a little too hard, sending a little pain, but not too much that you were uncomfortable.

“Fuckk your mouth feels so fucking good…” she moaned as she moved your mouth all over her cunt, helping herself ride the last highs of her orgasm. “It’s time to help you now, isn’t it puppy?” She asked in a cute tone, teasing you over your pants with her bare foot. With how neglected your cock felt, your hips automatically moved towards her foot, desperate for friction. This made the older woman laugh, you were such a cute needy puppy for her. “aw don’t be weird, puppy. I’m not using my feet for that. Got something better for ya.”

And as the seconds feel like ages, with the uncertainty of the darkness, you felt her hands slightly moving your pants to let your member free, and you felt how it hardly slapped against your own stomach. The sensation of your own precum making you groan, but you didn’t find it bothersome actually. The fact that it was still coming even when Sana wasn’t stimulating you at all in any ways made her hungrier for you.

“Aww, poor you. That probably hurts, doesn’t it darling?” She cooed. You nodded, a pout decorating your lips as soft whimpers started to leave them. An almost too loud moan escaped you once she started to slowly jerk you off “Shhh it’s ok, I’ll take care of it.” She said as her palm was now all over your tip, playing with the precum. You thought she was gonna make you come like this, until you felt the overwhelming and warm sensation of her tight pussy. God it felt like heaven. With how sensitive you were, and the desperation of not being allowed to touch her with your own hands. You felt you could come in any second.

Sana started riding you at a steady pace, knowing you were close but also not wanting you to finish too soon. She was playing with the pace, torturing you and enjoying the sounds you’d make when she slowed down robbing you of your own orgasm. If only you could see that damn smile she had on her face. “Sana, please… stop playing with me.. I need to come, please.”

Ouh she loved the sound of that. How you desperately begged her, knowing she had full control over you in every aspect. She needed to hear it more. “Hmmm ask again baby. Ask again and I’ll think about it.”

“Please, please, I’m begging you ma’am, please..” you sobbed, needing your sweet release, unconsciously thrusting your hips up, fucking her as fast as she was fucking you.

“Fuck..! Just like that, baby. Keep fucking going like that. Fuck me good.” She moaned between teeth in your ear, feeling herself getting close to her second orgasm as well. As you came, the sensation of your seed inside her drove her crazy, jumping even faster on your cock making you sob and ask her to please slow down, feeling overstimulated. But of course Sana didn’t stop until she was making a mess on your cock, making you fill her up even more.

———————

For somebody with her own office, she surely enjoyed rather going to more dangerous and small corners of the building.

“Wait, they’re gonna hear us…” you whispered with the little reasoning that was left in your mind as she quickly unbuttoned your pants while you were against the door of a janitor’s closet.

“No, I don’t think they will.” She said as she took her panties off and made you take them into your mouth before getting on her knees.

“Sana, we have a lot of work to do, please.” You said, taking her small piece of clothing out of your mouth for a second.

“Then let’s make it quick, and put that back in your mouth, now.” She said and before you could argue, she started sucking on your tip, moaning at the taste. Your eyes almost went completely white, getting already watery ‘cause of how sensitive you felt and how good Sana’s mouth was. You couldn’t help but to thrust your hips a little, hoping she’d get more of you inside her warm mouth. “Hey what did I tell you, hm? If you wanna fuck my mouth, you ask for it.” She scolded, teasing part of your shaft with her teeth “Understood?”

“A-ah~ yes ma’am. Can I please fuck your mouth?” You almost begged her, your voice coming out muffled ‘cause of her panties and you clenched the edge of the table next to you to try and have some self control while you waited for her answer.

“That’s better, yes you can baby.” She answered as she put her tongue out, giving you more access to her mouth, eagerly waiting for you to use it as your own fuck toy. And of course you did, getting deep inside her throat creating such wet and impure noises that would make whoever walks outside that closet turn around and leave the whole floor. Sana took it out of her mouth as she tried to catch her breath, replacing it with her hand instead. However, you were quick to put it back in, grabbing her head firmly.

“Nu-uh, we can’t risk it falling on your clothes. We can’t go to our meeting all dirty. You’re gonna swallow it all, aren’t you, baby?” You told her looking straight into her eyes, and she nodded, knowing she had no other option. She looked so cute like that, giving you those puppy eyes. People thought nobody could have more power than the owner’s daughter. Yet here you had her, on her knees listening to your every word and letting you use her mouth. People could call you a pathetic loser if they wanted to. As long as you could enjoy Sana. Not so long after, you came in her mouth almost making her choke. Still, she made sure to take everything you gave her, licking your dick clean, and getting a little too excited that you almost were starting to get hard again. However, you grabbed her arms and pulled her back on her feet, you guys had an important meeting and you were almost already late. She groaned, complaining and clearly wanting more “I promise after this meeting we can go wherever you want and do whatever you say, but please let’s go. We worked hard on these papers, remember?” You told her with a pout, a surprising switch on you that Sana was still trying to get used to.

“Ugh, fine..” she sighed as she rolled her eyes, and you both carefully got out of the closet (be who you areeee) after making sure you were presentable.

Getting to your meeting like nothing happened, clearly in a better mood than earlier that day, your cheeks red and sometimes stuttering as Sana continued eye-fucking you, fantasizing about what you promised earlier and impatient for the day to end to take you home,but she had the biggest smile planted on her face ‘cause there’s nothing she loves more than playing with you and having you around her finger during office hours.

A lot of people thought she was just flirting and playing with you, making you nervous or dreaming about a chance with her just so you would do whatever she wanted, but never actually batting an eye your way. The way Sana thanks you for your help (which she very much enjoyed as well, so it was a win-win for her every time), you could honestly say it was very fair tho.

Now, Sana was no idiot. She knew damn right what it was told about her and the way she treated you. She knew some people thought she was taking advantage of you and manipulating you ‘cause you were too good and innocent. You looked so shy and well behaved. “If only they knew” she thought. Yes, you were sweet, but innocent? Impossible, and if you ever were then she was sure she already broke you ‘cause with how easy she made you hard, and with how hard you pound on her, it was impossible to consider you innocent. Well behaved? Of course tho, you were so obedient for her. Just for her<3.

Continuation here <3

#kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #twice x y/n #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twice #twice sana #twice imagines #twice scenarios #twice smut #sana x reader #minatozaki sana #twice sana smut #g!p reader #loser reader

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foulwitchknight · 3 months

Text

A! Eddie NEEDS to scent or be close to Steve at all times. That’s a little difficult when they both have separate jobs. Eddie compensates by visiting Steve at the library during his lunch breaks. He doesn’t even eat. He spends the hour with his face buried in Steve’s neck and his arms tightly wrapped around his middle. Whenever Steve has to move to do Librarian things, Eddie is following right on his heels. He loves holding his hand waffle style as Steve leads him around the library. Steves coworkers and the library patrons are pretty chill so they never say anything. They refer to him as Steve’s boyfriend or mate. Steve rarely visits him at the garage. They found out pretty quickly that Steve is too much of a distraction for him. Eddie works with heavy machinery and being preoccupied by a pretty omega doesnt bode well for safety or business so Eddie visits Steve. The funniest thing to him is that not many people question their relationship or seem to realize they aren’t dating.

#steve x eddie #steddie #librarian #mechanic #omegaverse #headcanon #dorks in love

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angelofsmalldeaath · 3 months

Note

Could you write anything about Andrew in his blue jeans. They got my going feral, absolutely loosing my shit

a/n: the blue jeans aren't heavily mentioned but i think they still do play an important part

cw: andrew having a dire desperate crush, very slightly suggestive

it’s thirty minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage.

he’s in a city he’s played in multiple times, he knows the setlist from back to front, and he’s already thinking about what twists he can put on the songs tonight. the backstage is pretty crowded and bustling; his drummer sits on a chair, idly drumming away to whatever’s playing in his ears at the moment. his bassist has a laugh, chatting with some of the backing singers, a cigarette in one hand.

he sits and watches.

he knows she’s far too busy running around from one person to the next, making sure everything is perfect and ready to go. her staff lanyard swishes back and forth every time she dashes past him, and his heart squeezes every time she throws a casual smile at someone else.

“you’re running around like a headless chicken,” he calls out as soon as she’s within earshot.

she staggers to a stop, looks at him with a raised eyebrow, “yeah, well,” she shrugs, “i have a million last-minute things to look at.”

he knows it’s literally her job, but in this moment, all he wants is for her to sit next to him (better yet, for her to sit in his lap) and just talk to him. about anything and everything. but then a small smile blooms on her face and his heart skips a beat.

“your pins are all wonky,” she laughs a little and gestures for him to stand up.

it’s become a bit of a habit for him now, wearing the pins crooked by just the slightest. it happened a few months ago on accident when he was rushing, but then he saw how it irked her and how she was dying to fix it. how close they both stood while her fingers worked deftly at aligning them.

and so now he does it on purpose, wears them just crooked enough to irk her so she would come over and fix them for him. but he has to be careful enough not to do it every time. and on days he wears them perfectly, he constantly dreams about what it would be like to have her hands still brushing against his chest.

“blue jeans today?” she quirks an eyebrow, looking him up and down.

“oh, you know all about my fashion choices, do you?” he teases, trying to compensate for how breathless he feels. a faint scent of jasmine washes over him—her shampoo or her body lotion, he doesn’t know—but his mind has started associating the scent with her and her alone.

“no…” she trails off, looking at him a little sternly, and he worries a bit that he’s teased at the wrong time.

she was clearly running around, busy with other things backstage and now he’s sprung an additional task on her. he’s worried that he’s come across as a petulant rockstar who needs assistance for as simple a task as this.

“they look nice on you. better than the black,” she bites her lip to stop herself from smiling and his brain short circuits.

for one, she’s just teased back, even if it was barely anything. and now all he can think about is biting her lip while holding her in his arms.

the height difference between them means that every time she looks up at him, it’s through her eyelashes. his lips part slightly, like he can’t get enough air into his lungs. and he can’t; he can’t just go around burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. so he has to collect little bits and pieces of her whenever he can and store them like stolen candy.

“there,” she says once she’s done and gives him a little pat on his chest, “now you look all handsome again.”

him. handsome. she thinks he looks handsome. he’s sure he has the stupidest, silliest grin on his face.

“oh god, don’t smile at me like that,” she blurts out. it’s rushed, almost a whisper, almost like it wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, but her eyes widen. and she looks away in an instant.

“why?” he feigns arrogance, seamlessly slipping into the confident artist his fans meet, “does my devastatingly handsome smile make you go crazy?”

she rolls her eyes but doesn't take a step back. she doesn't even move her hands from his chest. which is a bit of a problem because his heart is racing.

“you okay?” she asks and he watches her brows furrow in concern.

shit. shit. shit. he has to think on his feet, and the only thing he can’t do right now is focus!

“just nervous about the show?”

it comes out more like a question, and he wants to kick himself for telling such an obvious lie. she knows he has played here like four times before. she knows he has everything rehearsed and ready to go, and whatever amount of nerves he might feel, they’re nowhere near enough to make his chest pound like this.

she gives him a sceptical look and opens her mouth, about to say something, but someone calls her name. both their gazes snap to see another person on the staff, clipboard in hand, feet tapping impatiently. he feels an instant annoyance because how dare they look at her with anything other than adoration, but then his gaze snaps back to her.

“i gotta go,” she gives him a small smile. “but good luck out there, you’ll be fantastic.”

he nods absently, like a pathetic idiot.

“and,” she grins “wear that blue jeans more, will you? it really does look gorgeous on you.” before he knows what’s happening, she stands on her toes and presses a tiny kiss on his cheek. and just like that, she’s gone, running around the set once again.

in a daze, his fingers come up to lightly touch his cheek. multiple neurons in his body are misfiring, and he feels a bit like he’s about to fall off a cliff.

he wonders if he should follow her and kiss her hard enough that he will taste her for days. he wonders if she tastes like the cherry lip gloss she uses. then he worries that she’s just a friendly, affectionate person. and finally, he burns with envy that someone out there might be getting a real, proper good-luck kiss from her.

“alright, mate?” his bassist appears, finally back from a cigarette break, and he has to stop himself from unloading everything on him.

it’s ten minutes until he’s supposed to be on stage.

and now all he can think about is his blue jeans on her bedroom floor and cherry-flavoured lips.

#requests #hozier #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #writblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier fluff

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prodbymaui · 1 year

Text

Stress No More

and you're my centre, you keep me tethered

PAIRING: jung jaehyun x reader

GENRE: stress relief

WORD COUNT: 1.6k+ words

WARNINGS: consensual somnophilia, sub space, daddy kink

SYNOPSIS: Stressed because of work, CEO Jaehyun seeks the comfort of his wife. So when he finally clocks out of work, he didn’t waste any time to quickly drive and get home.

A/N: this was a revised version of one of my fics months ago. thought I had to at least post something as a compensation of my long overdue series. forgive me for the typos, grammatical errors-- yadda yadda yadda. enjoy reading! share your thoughts?

Jaehyun sighs as he starts to clean up his desk and gather his things. Fashion week just finished and the whole company had been busier than ever. As the CEO, it’s his responsibility to make sure everything falls into the right place with no flaws and show a much better performance than other brands do. Utmost success doesn’t just come immediately, it demands sleepless nights and burned out minds. Responsibilities as the owner of his own company requires him to spend most of his time signing papers, going over proposals and designs, visiting and participating in the outside works himself, and many more.

Guilt fills Jaehyun’s body when he sees the texts you had sent him earlier, he scolds himself for not replying to you not even once despite clearly, it was his work that had hold him back and made it quite impossible for him to check his phone, especially during meetings. Turning his heels, Jaehyun quickens his pace, urge of going home burns inside him as seconds passes by.

The moment he arrives, he calls out your name softly, announcing his arrival. A couple more and he is yet to receive a response. Oftentimes, when you are free from the shackles of your own job, you like relaxing at the patio, chewing on your strawberry cheesecake all the while laughing at whatever film you’ve decided to watch—or there are times where Jaehyun finds you in your shared bedroom, playing on your phone or taking a nap. After going to the patio first and sees no sight of your figure, Jaehyun opted to head to the second in ranking of your favorite places.

There he finds his lovely wife all sprawled out on the bed, sleeping peacefully with your black silk nightgown that he loves so much. A smile of adoration appears on Jaehyun’s face, walking towards your peaceful sleeping figure while taking off his coat and tie. He settles his things on the table not far from the bed, resting his knee on the mattress and takes in the sight.

Jaehyun feels his breath hitch at the look of your exposed collarbones and thighs. Like a cue, one of your talks prior the busy weeks pricks Jaehyun’s mind. In that very conversation, you had mentioned about wanting to give somnophilia a try. Jaehyun was clueless back then that an explanation was needed. Being the gentleman that he is, Jaehyun expresses worry over the procedure and said that having sex requires verbal consent, he doesn’t want to disrespect the only woman he loves other than his mother. It took quite a few convincing and batting your eyelashes before he agreed.

Cheerfully, you assured him that he have your consent of touching you anytime, anywhere—conscious or unconscious. There are words you’ve established to signal any discomfort or want to stop the actions anyways. Too caught up with work, you didn’t have time to try it. But Jaehyun thinks that this might be the right time.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheeks, as he stares at you lovingly for a minute. Jaehyun tugs the hem of your nightgown upwards, there lies the flimsy fabric barely covering the plum cheeks of your pussy. He feels his pants get tighter.

Parting your legs slowly, Jaehyun thinks it’s pathetic to torture himself like this. The thin fabric doesn’t do much of covering what is between those legs, partially showing your clit. He curses under his breath, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to let his hard cock breathe some air, eyes never leaving your cunt.

Jaehyun settles comfortable in the middle while unbuttoning his shirt. He wets his lip as he parts the pussy lips with his thumbs and diving into the pool of sweetness. Jaehyun must’ve saved the world in his previous life to be rewarded by this delicacy. Sliding his tongue in, from the hole to the clit, tasting his wife’s arousal. He closes his eyes as he gets lost to the sweet wetness, licking and sucking on the clit, hungry for more. He looks up to watch your face without stopping the work of his tongue, he can see the calm breathing as it turns heavy and the peaceful face changes into a confused frown.

Your husband observes you, dipping his wet muscle inside the tight warm hole completely. Ghosts in your house would think he’s the one getting eaten out by how he moans and hums at your taste. He flattens his tongue and licks up to the clit, letting his middle finger enter the warm cave, flicking his tongue lightly at your button of pleasure.

Soon, three fingers are already inside and your pussy is now all puffy from all the sucking and licking. He pulls away and stares at how his digits move in and out of your soaping cunt. Letting a muted moan, stirring a bit, Jaehyun chuckles lowly when your legs spreads wider as if to give him more access. Even in deep slumber, you wouldn’t hesitate to offer yourself to him.

Jaehyun presses a kiss on your clit before pulling out his fingers, taking off his pants and boxers. He strokes his cock at the delicious sight of his pliant wife. God, he is certain he’ll come anytime soon just by looking at you, so fucking rewarding after all the stress he had gone through since morning. Without wasting any time, Jaehyun hovers over you, hands beside each side of the your head to hold himself up as he slowly penetrates your soaked hole. Jay lets out a long moan. You feels so good, so warm, so tight.

His thrusts becomes rough and fast almost immediately, not even bothering to lower down his moans and slow down for his wife. You like it like this. The way his cock rubs the insides of your walls is so enticing that you were pulled out from your dream, fluttering your eyes open as the feeling of being full registers in your brain. Whimpering at your husband’s appearance, sweat peeks at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his mouth and chin wet. You are not dumb to be unaware of what just took place, not dumb to know that it’s your wetness that lies on his face, not dumb to realize that what you thought is a wet dream is indeed happening. Fina-fucking -ly.

“Oh, daddy.” You whimpers, hands shooting up to grip on your husband’s biceps, hips bucking up to meet the purposeful thrusts. Jaehyun opens his eyes and sees the pleasure in his now awake wife. He leans down to finally have a taste of the mouth he had been craving ever since this morning, wrapping his arms around you to feel the warmth that he had been seeking after all the stress work had given him.

Picking up his pace, Jaehyun orders you to hold on to him, whispering filthy shits against your ears, knowing how it pushes you to the edge even more. With his wife’s beautiful noises and the clenching of your pussy in his cock, Jaehyun feels himself getting close. He used to last longer than you, but due to the pleasuring clenches of your walls and the beautiful sight of you falling apart in his arms, it’s embarrassing to say that he can cum in just a few minutes.

“Fuck baby, you’re bulging.” Jaehyun looks at your stomach stretching up whenever he thrusts in, the shape of his cock making an appearance. He presses a hand at that very part and starts to pounce roughly, wanting to feel how big his cock inside your small hole.

Sobbing at the merciful thrusts, you tighten your arms around his neck. He feels so so big that you could feel him almost literally breaking you into two. Jaehyun leans back to sit up, placing his hands on his your waist as he fastens his pace, giving you more than what you can take. Your arms goes everywhere, not knowing where to place them, you need to grip on something.

Jaehyun groans when your hands proceeds to grab the big teddy bear on the side of your bed, giving the illusion of innocence with how you’re crying and hugging the stuffed toy like a bullied little kid. Jaehyun puts both of your legs on his shoulders to thrust deeper and harder, You can’t do anything but to scream about how good Jaehyun is making you feel. The complaints from the neighbors are definitely guaranteed.

“Daddy daddy— gonna c-cum— ‘m gonna cum— daddy cum!” You thrashes underneath him and starts to clench on his girthy cock. You want to come so bad, fuck. Your tummy tightens as you discard the stuffed toy to the side and makes grabby hands to your husband. Immediately, Jaehyun complies and leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck once again as he whispers encouragement to your ears.

“Come for me, baby. Come on princess, show daddy how good you are for him.” With a few more strokes, you are clamping down hard on his cock and Jaehyun is thrusting uncontrollably. His cum mixes with yours as Jaehyun moves slowly, riding out your high. Once you’ve come down from your climax, he pulls out of you carefully and grabs a towel on your bed side and starts to clean up the mess made by the both of you. Your hand prevents him from going to the bathroom, “Where are you going?” Gosh, those teary eyes—will anyone blame him if his flaccid dick gets hard again by the mere doe eyes?

“To the bathroom, I’ll prepare our bath.” You shake your head.

“No?” Tugging Jaehyun to lay beside you. Your husband only lets it be as you puts his arm around you and buries your face in the crook of his neck.

“We have all the time to do that, let’s just rest for now.” You sleepily say, yawning.

Just a few more days. A few more days and you will be consistently woken up with him fucking you dumb, just like what you had always begged him to do. Jaehyun smirks, a few more days.

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