#fuck this dress it was so hard to make the texture
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SEPTEMBER | Gabrielle Cape Dress
Get your September spunk on with this eccentric caped gown. You're sure to turn heads with its abstract floral print.
Teen to Elder
Base game compatible
All maps and LODS
6.5 k polys + 5 swatches
Custom thumbnails + disabled for random
DOWNLOAD [PATREON - FREE]
📌Inspiration — Princess Beatrice of York in Richard Quinn, September 14
❄️2023 ADVENT CALENDAR❄️
MY SIMBLR STORY👑 | LINKTREE 🌳| TERMS OF SERVICE 📃
@sssvitlanz | @itsjessicaccfinds | @mmoutfitters | @alwaysfreecc | @public-ccfinds | @mmfinds
#fuck this dress it was so hard to make the texture#warwick.cc#2023 advent#ts4 cc#ts4#ts4 maxis cc#ts4 mm#ts4 maxis match#ts4 download#ts4 royalty#ts4 monarchy#simsmas#simsmas 2023#✨
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i hate clothes shopping bc im rlly picky for a lot of reasons (mostly sensory stuff, ethical concerns, price, and personal taste which all collaborates to make picking stuff rlly hard dhdhd) and its generally stressful, and i have a habit of thrifting stuff thats too big for me bc its often all i can find in styles i like, but right now im actually rlly glad i got some too-big for me pants in the past couple years bc now a lot of them fit just right so i dont have like, an imminent pants buying emergency
#also there r like two thrift stores near me and neither of them are very good 😔✌️#i struggle a lot with clothes stuff i usually wear things even when theyre ripped and worn just bc its so hard to pick new things out#i really hope to learn how to properly sew and make clothes for myself so i can make stuff i like#ALSO i often like mens styles esp when theyre made sturdier but they are Not made for double ds and the pants arent made for wide hips 💔💔#and then womens stuff always has some weird detail#and everything is fucking polyester i prefer cotton and linen texture so much :^(#and everything keeps getting shitter quality aaaa#i love skirts and dresses too but its so hard to find long plain ones which r my preference#bearztxt
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(SMUT/NSFW +18 Minors DNI)
𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: established relationship, pussy eating, p in v, pervy Bf Sugu, sum fluff.
Suguru got almost hard the first time he noticed your stretchmarks.
It was a warm summer day. Perfect for those cute outfits you reserved for making your boyfriend feel all hot and bothered.
You showed up, a nice pair of mini-shorts barely making it past your hips, paired up with your fav cherry patterned top. And that alone had baby Sugu already obsessed…
He glances and sees more and more of the beautiful stripes scattered on your hips, ass, thighs and tummy, adorably peeking at him. He tried his best to avoid looking, but the way your thighs magically gained size as you sat down next to him, the way your stretchmarks widened and thickened…it’s like they begged him to grope you right there and then.
He stared, eyes glued to the way they jiggled, gulping with his familiar ‘I’m so clapping your cheeks when we finally get home’ written all over his face.
You played dumb the whole time you hung out; occasionally rubbing his leg, sneakily brushing your ass on his bulge and teasing him with a wide, cheeky smile on your glossy lips to top it all off…all the way till you two made it back to his place…
Knowing Sugu for such a long time, he wasn’t the type of man to lose his cool so easily, but somehow now he’s got melting hearts in his eyes and a raging boner in his pants, sitting you nice and pretty on his face while he lays shirtless on his bed. He could finally eat your pussy till he cums untouched.He moans when he feels them rubbing his face, bites his lip and smacks your ass with a deep ‘mmh fuck’ as if to make you ride his face faster.
He kisses them all over, pressing his bulky fingers into the plush of your skin, just so he can feel their velvet-like texture under his hands.
‘Babygirl the ones on your ass look so damn adorable’ He nibbles and chomps on your full cheeks, pressing his face deeper into them as you couldn’t stop giggling at his loud groans.
‘They look fucking hot, would you let me watch them too?’ He grabs your panties with one hand and lets you bounce free on his big cock, looking into your reflection on the mirror to get a better view of your beautiful stripes wiggling. He strokes his length to your butt so that he could cover them in his thick cum.
They’re his new addiction. He gave you the ‘mini lioness’ petname since then. And for some reason he started buying you shorter dresses and skirts…
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk headcanons#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#geto smut#getou suguru#geto x reader#geto suguru#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x y/n#geto fluff#jjk geto#geto suguru x y/n#suguru geto#geto suguru x you#getou suguru x you#suguru geto smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji smut#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x you
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“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.
I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.
At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.
I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.
I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.
I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.
I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.
Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.
I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.
"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.
Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.
But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.
I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.
Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.
And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.
But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.
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Grip
Synopsis- JJK men who unknowingly have a deep attraction to your pudge. Men who just love your fat tummy!
Gojo
The man always finds himself zeroing in on your pouch of flesh—practically staring holes at it. It can come off as judgy or scrutinizing but it’s the opposite—admiration. He just loves when you wear form fitting clothing like a skintight dress or leggings—anything that shows your supple shape.
He loves when he can see the outline of its shape—the beautiful almost “U” like shape enchanting him. It’s so beautiful to him and so attractive to him. He just indulges in the fact that it’s so effortlessly plump—so kissable and touchable. So incredibly easy to press into and mold whatever shape he longs for.
“You’re so pretty,baby? Yeah you like how deep I am inside?”
Gojo has your legs pushed into your chest,chest heaving and faces constantly grazing each other as he pulls in and out of you. Even though he can see your pretty face,that he loves,his eyes immediately gaze down to stare at your tummy.
The rolls of your stomach are pushed together and layered on top of each other—and fuck it just looks so good to him. He purposefully pushes your legs back just see your flesh layer onto itself some more. He ignores your whines as he bends and plays with you for his unknown pleasure.
And pleasure he gets because by the time he’s done with you in that position,he’s came on your tummy three times now and he’s planning to make it a fourth.
Nanami
The man is naturally a provider, a person who feels a responsibility to take care of others. So with that huge part of his nature he’s naturally drawn to your softer features especially your stomach. Every time he returns home from his draining and tiring job—there you are in the kitchen making a meal full of love for the both of you and every instance,no matter how tired he is,no matter how much work he has to catch up on—Nanami’s hands always find themselves gripping the pudgy stomach.
He’ll stand behind you,hands kneading it and rubbing it ever so gently. He’ll listen you talk about your mundane activities that you don’t think really matter but he always listens. He hums and rubs you,each stroke and pinch of his fingers like a warm comfort. A comfort that always turned perverted and pleasurable.
“Did I say stop talking? I want to hear about your day.”
It’s hard to talk when his large hand is rubbing cool circles on your harden nipples through your thin shirt. Not only that but you couldn’t just talk normally when his hand is playing with your throbbing clit—caressing ever so soft circles onto the fleshy bud.
“Nanami—!”
“That’s right talk for me,be a good wife and just tell me about your day,m’kay?” You couldn’t get any words other than praising and chanting the man’s name. That’s when he removes his hand from your breast and goes back to gripping your pliable tummy.
All you can think about is the blissful sensation of his hand rubbing your clit and the loving touch of his extremities onto the excess above your pelvis. Oh yeah,Nanami just loves this everyday practice of his.
Yuji
The man always finds himself laying on your tummy—recapping his day and ranting about anything with you. He melts in the pillow like texture,snuggling into you—hands placed onto your stomach and tuffs of pink hair being the only think you can see while he just relaxes on you.
You could feel him occasionally kissing you through your shirt before he lifts it up and just starts sucking on the smooth skin. His rambles slowly turn into him forming hickeys on the fatty skin—the innocent conversations turned into pure concentration on the shapes he’s making with his mouth.
“Can I go down there..?” All Yuji needed was to see you breathlessly nod yes. He needs no more time before he pulls your panties to the side and latches his mouth onto your clit.
He’ll suck and suck—veiny hands making sure to rest on your belly,pretty brown eyes constantly watching you—eating up your wanton moans. You can’t help but grips the pinks tuffs of hair that barely pokes out from behind your plump belly.
Yuji won’t stop—not til his jaw locks,not til his whole mouth hurts. He’ll service you happily all while his large hands tease and grope your tummy. The extremities cupping the skin in batches—leaving a reminding sting of how hard he’s really gripping you.
His fingers will trace into your geography—pads of his pointer and his index mulling over your stretch marks and cellulite. He practically remolds your stomach—using it to still himself while he uses his grip to rut against the bed.
Yuji just loves melting into you and talking to you-always dissolving in the plush flesh that he so enjoys.
Geto
This man uses your tummy as a comfort—a place of safety and a feeling of home. He’ll normally be going over scrolls or whatever busy work always having you beside him—big hand reaching over to pull you closer to him,leaning down to grip the abundant flesh that sits above your mound.
But sometimes Geto doesn’t want to work. He wants focus on you and only you. He’ll start off by asking you to sit on his lap,saying he wants to be closer you—which isn’t a lie only a half truth. And you do,always. You press down onto him gently but of course your comforting weight is still felt—felt enough for Geto to fight back a groan. He doesn’t utter a word,only placing his hand on your tummy and continuing busying himself. He won’t talk to until he feels the squirming begin—that’s when he can have fun.
“If you keep moving like that my love you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” He warns. His warning makes you stiffen up—entertaining him with your automatic obedience. For awhile you stay still but can’t help but to rock back and forth. And that’s how you end up,still sitting on his lap the only difference being his warm cock sheathed inside you.
“You can’t distract me from my work baby,so no moving okay? Be a good girl for me and stay still.”Geto asks you to stay still—tells you to be good for him yet he’s the one who won’t stop touching you. His nimble fingers finding comfort in the doughy fat—he relishes in the push back your skin offers the more he digs in you. But what he loves even more is when he touches your fat mound,enjoying your sweet whimpers of momentary pleasure. He knows you want him to fuck—want him in your guts.
However he loves how your pussy clenches against his still cock—desperate for some attention. He cups your tummy and breathes in your scent—loving the self induced torture. Your warm pudge offering a anchor—some comfort for you.
REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!!
#anime x reader#chubby reader#smut anime#chubby reader smut#smut#jjk x you#jjk smut#getou suguru x reader#nanami x reader#yuji itadori#reader insert#gojo x reader#geto suguru#gojo satoru#nanami kento#fat reader#plus size reader#jujutsu kaisen
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Everflow - Everglow Yiren
Blah blah blah something something something hello! That's all you understood from the words coming out of the MC's mouth. What did your publication want from this? You're not going to complain, because hey, free business trip, but what was the point of sending someone who barely understood the language? You mingle around, not recognizing any of your fellow colleagues, but you do notice someone.
"Hello, you're here by yourself too?"
"No I'm— I mean yes, unfortunately." Said someone is dressed in a tiny black dress, tapping on her phone in a secluded corner all by herself. She gives you a lookover, before putting her phone back into her purse. "You're here alone too?"
"Yes. You're here for the event too?"
"Yes, work. You?"
"Same." You try to think what job would allow her to come to an event like this dressed like that, but she interrupts you with a question.
"Boring isn't it? How about we have some fun before the event starts?"
"What do you have in mind?" She grabs your wrist and pulls you in.
"Wrong question, you should be asking me." Her breath tickles your ear. "What will I get in you?"
You are left contemplating the correct question as she leads you away into a thankfully unoccupied bathroom. You press her against the sink, kissing a complete stranger just minutes, if not seconds ago. Your lips drift away from hers, moving down her chin, only for her to pull away slightly.
"No marks, and no time." The young woman answers the question for you, her hands going to your trousers to unbuckle them. She takes off her panties and hikes up her tight dress best she can. "Just pull out." With a hiss through gritted teeth you push into her.
"Oh, oh fuck you're big!" Your ego stroked by her words and tightness around you, you start slowly, easing in and out of her. But it doesn't last for long as she's begging you to get her off, adding a lot of wetness to your connection.
"More please, faster, faster!" Your lady friend braces herself against the sinktop, nails almost breaking as she grips the cold marble. With how big you are she can feel every vein and texture of your tool inside her, and it feels so fucking good. The pleasure builds up too quickly, and she has to bite her lip to stifle a scream. "MMMMMMPH!" She bites the back of her hand and muffles it best she can. The lights in the bathroom are blurry and spinning when she opens her eyes again.
"Yiren? Yiren are you there?"
"Oh shit, I have to go!" To your bewilderment your short-lived fling pushes you away, quickly pulling her dress back down before leaving you in the lurch. Your dick is no more than a panty holder, the two things left dangling in the bathroom. You quickly grab her underwear off the countertop, and briefly deliberate finishing yourself; you decide not to once you look around and find no urinals in the bathroom. You zip up best you can, groaning at the tightness of your crotch area and dampness of your trousers—she had squirted all over you and you're still hard.
"Please welcome to the stage, Everglow's Yiren!" You are left dumbfounded as you watch the woman you were several inches in earlier walk on stage, going commando unbeknownst to everyone else in the audience.
"Hello, I'm Yiren!" She presses her legs together, making sure to not accidentally flash anyone. Her thighs feel uncomfortably wet, but Yiren doesn't have time to consider things while she's on stage, so she focuses on interacting with the MC and the crowd, saying nice things and looking pretty. After her job is complete, Yiren disappears from your sight for a while, but you soon find her trying to find you.
"Hey, do you have my clothing?"
"Your clothing? Miss Yiren, what do you mean?" you ask jokingly, pulling out the thin fabric of Yiren's underwear briefly before she shoves it back in your pocket.
"Not here!"
"I agree, you finished your job on stage, you should finish your other job too. I won't ask you to wash my pants though."
"What?"
"You made a mess all over them, utterly drenched."
"I didn't— I don't, you know, do that."
"My pants and the puddle the poor janitor has to clean later will disagree, but I have more pressing concerns." Yiren blushes, but she doesn't back away from you. She looks around, making sure that the two of you wouldn't be observed leaving the event.
"Fine, I have a room in the hotel, let's go there."
There is more than the two of you in the elevator up, so when Yiren lets you into her room you kick the door closed and wrap your arm around her tiny waist right away.
"You left me really high and dry, well, not dry, but hanging."
"Tch, that's why you're here now no?" Yiren is mildly annoyed at your constant reference to her squirting, and she shuts you up by undoing your trousers. The pretty face on stage doing her job earlier is now a pretty face on her knees doing a blowjob as she pulls your boxers down and pushes her lips over your cock. Yiren clearly wanted to get it over with, and you were edged enough earlier that you give in easily, your knees buckling as she wraps her tongue around your shaft and coaxing your time-delayed release down her throat.
"Looks like you're the only one squirting," she jabs you after wiping her mouth.
"We can go back there and take a look, if you're someone that likes to return to the scene of their 'crime'."
"I-I don't! But I don't squirt either!"
"Prove it, go ahead and touch yourself. It'll give me time to get hard again too." You dangle the (or rather, your) carrot in front of Yiren, and it is enticing—she remembers how good it felt in the bathroom earlier, and she would not mind a round two regardless.
"Fine." You watch Yiren slip out of her little black dress, her pale skin nicely matching the white sheets she gets on. A hand slips between her legs, but she keeps them closed.
"Open your legs, don't want you squirting and then trying to hide it." Yiren glares at you, but her knees part slightly, showing you her finger lightly rubbing her clit. You nod and have her continue, and Yiren's eyes close. Her legs begin to splay open as she continues rubbing herself, but she doesn't speed up, her other hand merely fondling her small breasts as you watch her climb. Her movements are small but practiced, no doubt how she touched herself back at the dorms—she needed to be quiet, to not be noticed, just enough to get her over the edge.
"Mm!" A small squeak, and her legs relax on to the bed. "I— I came, see, no squirting." Yiren cheeks are pink, but she glares at you to prove her point. She had just given herself a "light" orgasm, a "light" on the malatang spiciness scale—just enough to leave her senses tingling, but not nearly satisfying enough. Which is why you were here in the first place.
"If that's how you touch yourself I'm not surprised."
"How dare you— I'd like to see you try!" Yiren tries to be outraged, but her eyes are glued on your recovered hardness.
"Oh I plan to. I'll make sure you can't stop squirting." A warmth goes through her body as you lay a large hand on her hip—you hadn't touched her quite like this, skin-on-skin contact, in the bathroom earlier.
"You can try, but if you don't, and you won't, I'm not going to help get you off again even if I cum."
"You're going to blue ball me again?" you ask even as Yiren unbuttons your shirt. She unconsciously licks her lips as she takes in your naked body.
"Hey, that time was out of my control, unless you wanted us to get caught! But yes, if you really think you can make me do it, you should put something on the line." She draws you in, her lips inches from yours. She smells like strawberry.
"Fine, you should put something on the line too."
"Like what?"
"If I make you squirt, I get to use you until you stop squirting, you don't get to say stop."
"I have—" Yiren stops herself. She had a flight out tomorrow morning, but did she really think it would go that long? No, no it wouldn't. "Never mind, yes, that's fine." She agrees without further thought, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. She wants to get off on you again, and even if she did squirt by some miracle, it'd be a one-off, and she could still ditch you after by faking an orgasm. Yes, that'd be the play. So Yiren lets herself relax the first round, feeling you up with her wandering hands.
"You like what you see?"
"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have led you to the bathroom earlier."
"I'm glad, let me get started then." Without a further word Yiren feels two fingers on her belly drag themselves down between her legs. They felt huge, each as large as one of the toys she would use occasionally.
"Wait— Ah!" You plunge two fingers into her and start fingerfucking her. Yiren merely rubbed her clit earlier, ramping up the pleasure slowly, and then doing just enough to tip her over. If her masturbation was a "light" orgasm, you want to make this one "explosive". Her head snaps back as you dig around her roughly, feeling for her g-spot, and finding it when she reacts abruptly—a sharp moan, a clench of her walls, and a hand on your arm, trying to ward you off.
No, wait! Everything is happening too fast for Yiren to process—she's being rubbed in an area she never reaches herself, and your thumb is too demanding, pressing and tapping on her clit like an impatient customer demanding a waiter to serve him water. Her hand is on your arm, jerking along with your rough movements, she needs to push you away, yet she can't summon the strength, the fingers inside her feel so good, too good. A warmth floods her body when she senses a fingerpad on her nipple, adding another sensation to her overloaded senses.
"Mmmmmmm!" Yiren snaps, covering her mouth with a raised arm. Yet there's no covering her lower mouth as you remove your fingers, and all the "overload" in Yiren squirts out, spraying your arm with clear slick, her juices served on a platter. She twitches and trembles on the bed, her toned tummy drumming up and down on the bed as she rides out her intense climax. Her vision white and breathing deeply, Yiren takes a while to open her eyes again, and to her dismay she sees your hand, liquid dripping off your fingertips.
"You squirted."
"J-Just this once." You took that as a challenge.
Not what I meant! Yiren throws her head back again as you bury your head between her legs, your tongue an utterly foreign and delightful muscle against her wetness. Your tongue wriggles past her lips, and Yiren has to plant her hand over your head. Presumably she wants you to stop moving, to give her time to recover, but all that happens is her tensing up, forcing your head harder against her pussy. Your arms hook around her thighs, and you continue to eat her out even as her hips move every which way. All the movement makes you bump against her clit repeatedly, and soon, rather than trying to get away from you, Yiren's just rotating her hips without purpose, grinding her crotch against your face as she chases her orgasm.
Fuck, why does it feel so good?! She bemoans the pleasure. Your teeth grazes against her swollen clit, and Yiren yells. When you wrap your lips around the nub and suck, Yiren screams, a surge of lightning going up her spine before rushing out of her pussy, splashing her juices all over your chin. You quickly place your mouth over her pussy to drink up the rest of it, making a point of wiping your mouth when she has her eyes open again.
"You taste delicious."
"S-Shut up. When are you going to fuck me hmm? You won't get to get off if I don't squirt the next time." Yiren sees you smile, and you silently get up to move her around the bed. She finds herself facing the mirror, and before she knows it you're behind her, her back pressed against your chest. She had prepared herself to get on all fours, but to her surprise you've made her sit and pushed her legs open, your own legs keeping her spread lewdly. Your head dips to her ear, and she shivers against you when you whisper.
"I'm not worried. Besides, I thought you might want to watch yourself squirt. Maybe then you'll admit it."
With your legs locking hers in place, Yiren watches your hand go down her body. She keels against you when you slide two fingers into her once more. This time thankfully you don't focus on her g-spot, drawing your digits out soon after. Maybe I can— Yiren yelps as you slam your fingers back in, and with your body bracing Yiren, she can't back away, it just makes your fingers get even deeper into her. I can't, I can't! Your palm strikes against her clit every time you thrust your fingers into her. She's already close again, and even Yiren knows she's going to squirt.
"Look in the mirror." Yiren forces her eyes open, and you hook her own legs a little further back, spreading her out even more. Her glossy eyes watch your hand go even faster in and out of her, there's no way she can stay watching it—
"Nngaaah!" A wild yell escapes her, her mind on a different plane of reality as she watches herself through the mirror. The Yiren in the mirror throws her hips off the bed as the hand pulls back, and it is a gush of juice that explodes out of her pussy. Not just a singular gush too—over and over Yiren bucks her hips off the bed, each firing off their own jet of squirt. The lithe girl is trembling and sweating, the sheets beneath her soaked with all kinds of fluids.
"God you're such a perfect squirter..." your whispers rouse Yiren from her stupor, and she sees herself in the mirror, droplets of her own girlcum splattered across the face looking back.
I-I'm not a squirter! Am I? Doubt sets in on Yiren. And your sinful words don't help at all.
"You've been holding back on yourself, holding back on me, this whole time. You should see yourself squirt again."
"N-No, I don't want to, don't want to watch!" You grin and push Yiren's legs together, before hooking your arm under her legs and pulling them up. Her back pressed against you, you pull her legs towards her chest, folding Yiren in half, and now she's staring at her knees instead of the mirror.
"Fine, just listen then." In the folded position Yiren can barely catch her breath as you strum on her clit, and in her overstimulated state she wails before going silent in orgasm. She squirts once more, and despite being unable to see the mirror, Yiren hears the spray land heavily on the mirror, each drop a thunder in her ears.
"Did you squirt then?" you ask her, and she blushes and tries to shy away from you.
"Yes."
"Are you a squirter?"
"N-No."
"Not admitting it yet?" You release your hold on her, letting her flop on to the bed as you roll on top of her. "I am going to fuck you now."
"No!" She pushes you away in a hurry. "I mean, let me be on top."
"If you want." You get on your back, and Yiren clambers on top of you. Gone is her prettily coiffed hair and makeup, replaced with a disheveled, sweaty, and drained look. She has been pushed to her limits tonight, the pleasure and forbidden sensation of squirting driving her insane, yet she's desirous for more. Any idea of faking an orgasm to just get out of the deal is gone from her head—she wants to cum, and she wants to not squirt to prove a pointless point.
Even after all of your handiwork on her pussy, it still doesn't compare to how full you feel inside her, and Yiren moans deliriously as she hilts herself on you. This is it! She cries in her head, immediately beginning to grind her hips on you.
"You like my cock don't you?"
"I, uhhnngh, I love it!" Her hands are on your chest, and she squeezes your pecs as she grinds. Yiren's head is spinning as the pleasure she had felt in the bathroom quickie earlier returns, your shaft rubbing all the right spots along her drenched walls. But I can't squirt! She forces herself to slow down her movements, denying herself some of the pleasure, to hopefully bring herself to a small orgasm rather than another wet one.
You see through her thoughts immediately as she shuts her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.
"Why are you going slow Yiren?"
"You know why, damn it!"
"Is that why you wanted to be on top? So you can control the pace?"
"Yes, oh fuck!" she whines as she unfortunately finds the perfect angle to fuck herself on you.
"You do know that I can just hold you there and thrust upwards right? I can make you squirt all over my cock whenever—" You put one hand on her waist. "I—" You put your other hand on her waist, and Yiren freezes, as if waiting for you to just do as you say, to just ruin her with another squirting orgasm. "Want, but I won't." You let go of her, and Yiren's too stunned to speak momentarily. You smirk at her undulating body though, unconsciously beginning to move in circles again.
"W-Why did you st— Why not?"
"I want you to make yourself squirt. I can make you do it anytime, but can you?"
"I don't want to! I won't!"
"Are you sure? I can feel you clenching around me, are you thinking about how it would feel when you squirt again? Thinking about how I would do it?"
"No!"
"I would grab your tiny little waist, and then I would jam you down as I thrust up, god I would get so deep in you. You squirted before in the bathroom, there's no way you won't squirt again."
"No, not this time!" Yiren can't see you grin as she begins to lose her mind—she finally admits to squirting in the bathroom earlier.
"And then I would roll you over so I can properly fuck you, and I won't stop until you admit you're a squirter, and then make you squirt again and again."
"I won't say that— mmmm!" As you argue with Yiren her hips begin to move with a mind of their own, moving faster and faster. Her moans rise in pitch as she finds the perfect angle again and again. Stop Yiren, you need to stop! A little inner voice begins to shout, but it is fighting against the tidal roar of another orgasm.
Yiren don't! It is far too late.
"I can't, I'm sorry, NO—" Yiren wails loudly and begins to give in.
Schlick
"What are you sorry about Yiren?"
"I— I'm going to cum!"
Schlick Shlop
"Are you going to squirt on my cock?"
"Mmm, mmm!" She tries to shake her head, but she's bouncing on your cock, and she ends up nodding comically instead.
"Say it!"
Schlick Shlop Shlosh
"I'm— Ohh I'm going to, I'm going to nngh... I'm squirting—" The rest of it devolves into unintelligible groans as Yiren's control is washed away. You have to focus on not cumming with Yiren as she contracts around you, but you still feel your balls get drenched in her warm fluids, and the added squelch you now hear from Yiren's movements finish her original sentence—Yiren has flooded your connection with her juices and squirted all over your cock. You hold Yiren and roll the two of you, switching positions and making the twitching idol squirt a little more in the process.
"You really are a huge squirter aren't you?"
"Don't move, please don't move yet!" Yiren clings on to you, her walls still clenching around you as she rides out the last waves of her peak. "I-I'm a squirter, ok? I admit it."
"Good, then I don't want you to hold back. I'm going to fuck you, and I want you to tell me when you're squirting."
"Mm, ahh!" You start moving as soon as Yiren squeaks her understanding. As if finally unblocked and unchained, she throws her head back, moaning loudly when you thick rod runs itself in and out of her.
It's too good, it's so good— "Ugh I'm cumming!" It only takes a few thrusts for the overstimulated Yiren to cum again, and psshh you pull out, a jet of liquid spraying your stomach. As soon as she's done you plunge back in, pumping Yiren for her next gush.
"Ohhh yes!" Tears leak out from Yiren's eyes as she bucks her hips and squirts again. She can't believe how good it feels to squirt, the warm juices evidence of her own extreme pleasure. How can she ever go back to her feeble masturbation, how can she go "dry" again? She's shouting herself hoarse, but she doesn't even care if the whole floor hears her scream.
"I'm squirting again!"
"You're such a fucking hot squirter," you growl, driving into her faster and harder, chasing your own orgasm as you fuck Yiren to several squirting orgasms, each loudly announced. Your bodies are covered in sweat and slick, droplets of each splattered all over your violent forms.
"Guhnngh!" Yiren's brow contracts as you nudge at her cervix on an extra-deep thrust, and her walls clench around you violently as you nudge her again and again and again. "God— guh, uh, uh, nngh!" She feels your tip press on her womb firmly, and she loses all control.
"FUCK!" You pull out just in time, and your load fires up her body, splattering Yiren all the way to her neck. Yiren's world goes white, just as white as your load covering her while she explodes in her wettest orgasm yet. Her first blast hits you square in the chest, and the following jet sprays cover your entire torso. By the time her hips finally stop bucking, her entire body is flush in exertion and completely limp below you, as if every last bit of strength in her has been expelled in the form of girlcum all over your body.
Not caring about the mess you collapse on top of her, feeling Yiren quivering beneath you. The two of you take long minutes to recover, and you are the first to manage to put together a sentence.
"We should clean up," you whisper. But she shakes her head.
"I-I can't move." Her limbs still feel weak and numb, the pleasure nerves in her head still firing. You half carry and half drag Yiren into the shower, turning the hot water on and letting it wash over the two of you. But you're not done with Yiren yet.
"No..." Yiren feels your hand go between her legs, and she braces herself against the shower wall. A few rubs on her sensitive nub, and a weak flow of slick trickles down her leg before joining the shower water down the drain.
"You can end this now," you whisper in her ear, and Yiren finally realizes what you mean—in the shower she can just lie, say she didn't squirt, and you would end the session. You continue rubbing her slit, feeling Yiren tense in a weak orgasm, and her juices spray over your fingers weakly.
"I-I didn't squirt there." You look Yiren in the eyes, and they are round and tired, eager for rest.
"I see, I failed then. We're done." She slumps against the wall, sliding down to the floor. You sit down next to her, gently shampooing and soaping her up (to small overstimulated whimpers), helping Yiren finally get clean before quickly washing up yourself.
"Can you get up?" Yiren nods, standing up like a baby deer as you hand her a towel and give her a robe after. She hugs you tightly as the two of you exit the bathroom, her head buried in your chest—she's sobbing into it, overcome with emotion at what just happened tonight.
"Yiren?"
"I'm so embarrassed, I don't know what to say."
"I had a wonderful time tonight, thank you. I won't say anything about tonight to anyone."
"Okay, thank you. I umm, I have to leave tomorrow morning."
"So do I, you should rest as much as you can, and drink lots of water."
"Right..." Yiren blushes at the comment, and you feel her get warm against you as the two of you survey the water damage—Yiren has likely soaked the mattress, the sheets clinging to it translucently. "Oh god how am I going to explain this, what if the hotel finds out?"
"They'll keep quiet, that's what they're paid to do. Just say you spilled a pot of water or something and that you're very sorry."
"I'll try that."
"Yes, good. I should go, I'll let you rest." You gently dislodge Yiren from your arm, but she's clingy.
"I-I never felt like that before, it never feels that good."
"I'm glad, now you know what's possible. Next time, you should have a towel when you do it yourself."
"No, I want to see you again." Yiren's eyes are wide and twinkling—she's putting the idol charm on you, the little firecracker you fucked in the bathroom coming back strong.
"Fine, here's my business card. Don't risk it, remember we almost got caught earlier," you remind her.
"I will worry about that. It's my neck on the line." You chuckle and shake your head, giving her a goodbye hug and getting a goodbye peck in return.
You return to Korea separately from Yiren, and you don't expect to hear from her for a while—she is an idol after all.
Ding! Or not.
I'm off next Wednesday, can I see you then?
Well, at least that day's weather forecast settled.
Wet.
A/N: I wrote this purely because I wanted to do an "Everglow/flow" pun lol and wanted to use that little black dress pic of hers, thanks for reading!
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Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq
I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x
jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)
Jinx
cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy
tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread
a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl
nsfw under the cut
m!list here
જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:
Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.
When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”
Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”
You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.
Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.
Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.
He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.
Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."
Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.
Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.
Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.
Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.
Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.
His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”
You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.
As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."
"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,
And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.
જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:
a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao
#lyney smut#lyney x reader smut#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#lyney x reader#genshin lyney#genshin impact lyney
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okay so not many people explore this often but i think so hard about the softer side of mizu like when she was married to m*kio (🤢). Yes, we get a lot of the butch lesbian mizu content where shes the tough gf and all, but what about with a gf just calling mizu pretty!!! calling her beautiful and holding her face!!! telling her that shes the most gorgeous woman!!! MIZU DESERVES SOME SOFT COMPLIMENTS TOO ABOUT HER BEAUTY BC SHE IS GORGEOUS ! ! ! 😭❤️
fluff modern!mizu x reader headcannons
tags: fluff, mizu x reader, modern au, cute moments, pretty mizu, compliments, kissing, kisses on the cheek, gifting, flower bouquets, safe relationship, mizu deserves this :(
a/n: FUCK M*K*O !! she is my gorgeous beautiful girl!! ok school isn’t that bad but i do have a weekend trip so i'll be lowk MIA :(
modern!mizu tries to put up a tough front
but with you, the barrier breaks down and she feels comfortable exploring new aspects of herself
she's never felt that kind of safety
she barely felt it with m*k*o after learning his true nature
as time passes by with u, she begins to bring her guard down
compliment modern!mizu and she immediately doesn't know what to do or what to believe
earlier on in ur relationship, u helped her get dressed for a sports-day after party held by the school
in celebration of a well balanced and eventful day, there was a formal event for athletes and their plus ones
and mizu didn't know how to present herself
yeah she had the clothes
but she had trouble styling it
u came over to fix her clothes in ur beautiful blue dress that totally didn't compliment her eyes
mizu showered u with compliments, saying how her "pretty girl was so dressed up beautifully"
or calling u a "beautiful sight"
without thinking, u called her "my beautiful girl" as u fixed her hair
she immediately went quiet
"Mizu?", you questioned. She had gone silent after your compliment. "Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry, I'll just-"
You look up to find her, her mouth agape. Not out of disgust. Instead, Mizu whiplashed by your words, her face flaring red. Only three words and she's suddenly out of commission.
yeah, mizu would def short circuit
and she did for a brief moment
until she snapped and kissed u
and totally not ruin ur makeup
modern!mizu loves it when u cup her face while y'all kissing or make out
mizu mainly is the one talking and touching during heated moments but even the soft feeling of her significant other’s touch makes her stomach fill with butterflies
or if ur just chilling in bed and u start tracing her face
externally, she’s relaxing
internally, she’s mesmerized by ur touch
when u trace around her eyes and lips and play w her hair, she has never felt such softness and safety
or even if u cup her face to give her a kiss on the cheek before u leave for work or class
it makes her feel secure and happy
modern!mizu loves being called pretty
she still likes dressing more masc but that doesnt mean she isnt pretty
especially if u compliment her eyes
or her strangely healthy hair
the fact that its long and still shiny
sometimes u pray u had her hair genes bc wtf this isnt fair
“Your hair is so pretty, it’s not fair.”, you say as you play with Mizu’s hair. It was late at night and while she was busy figuring out calculations for a project, you were busy relaxing.
She hummed in acknowledgement. With her back still turned, you ran your hair through her scalp, feeling the silky texture of her raven hair.
Normally, Mizu would just tie her hair up to focus late at night. Tonight would be a little different since you were still up.
As your hands sectioned continued to run through her hair, Mizu relaxed. In a calm state, she solved the equations with ease, listening to the faint lofi studying music guide her thoughts into the night.
Time passed yet Mizu never felt it until she realized your hands had slowed down. She turned back to see you, eyes heavy and ready to doze off.
She looked back at her nearly completed homework. One problem couldn’t hurt in the morning.
Mizu shut off the desk lamp and silently collected her things in a neat pile. She rests your head on your pillows and pull the covers on top of you. With one foot into dreamland, Mizu gives you a kiss on your forehead.
modern!mizu’s favorite places to get kissed are her cheeks
she loves any kisses from u tbh
whenever u would give a goodbye kiss, she always forgets ab the “final” kiss
it’s so simple yet so endearing
when u guys first started dating, u were a little hesitant on ending the first few dates with a kiss
so u choose a simple peck on her cheek instead
u could see blush form on her cheeks afterwards
and they still flush to this day
after mizu went back to her place after the date, she would not stop smiling
it lowkey threw off ringo for a while
modern!mizu enjoys fresh flowers
it seems small but it’s a pretty reminder of ur love
she never got flowers as a gift in her previous relationship so she wasn’t use to these gifts
(yeah fuck u m*k*o)
it makes her heart warm every time she sees the vase on her desk
preferably, she likes peonies bc of how fluffy and full they bloom
but if u bring a new bouquet, she’ll gladly clean and take care of it
u insist that u will do it
but once u saw her carefully pluck and cut the bouquet, u let mizu have her way
she just looks so joyful getting new flowers to take care of
when the flowers start to fully bloom, mizu likes to check and make sure they have enough water
basically she gives them the love and care they need
(im crying sobbing while writing this)
#mizu bes#mizu x reader#bes mizu#mizu blue eye samurai#mizu headcanons#blue eye samurai#mizu x y/n#mizu x you#blue eye samurai mizu#blue eye samurai x reader#mizu#modern mizu#blue eye samurai modern#modern au#mizu come home the kids miss you#i love love#fluff mizu#fluff blue eye samurai#mizu x reader fluff#fluff mizu x reader#fluff mizu x y/n
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I've been scrolling through your page and I'm obsessed! I love your headcannon posts. <3 Do you think you have any 18+ headcannons for Sebastian/Ominis/Garreth getting aroused at seeing MC walk down the stairs all dolled up for The Yule Ball? And their inappropriate thoughts about MC throughout the ball? Obviously Ominis would have to rely on touch or smell.
Headcannons for getting aroused when they see your Yule Ball outfit
Ominis Gaunt x f!reader; Sebastian Sallow x f!reader; Garreth Weasley x f!reader
Ominis Gaunt x m!reader; Sebastian Sallow x m!reader; Garreth Weasley x m!reader
Warnings - 18+ suggestive thoughts and descriptions
A/N - Yay! I love to hear that anon. I hope you enjoy this one :)
Ominis x f!reader
as soon as he heard whispers and gasps from everyone else, he knew you were the one coming down the stairs
he turns towards you with a smug smile on his face since he knew you'd be by his side all night
when he walks up to you to take your arm and his fingers brush up against the soft satin or sultry lace that fell over your waste it takes a lot for him to keep his mouth closed
he loves those textures on you, he strongly associates them with times when you're panting and begging him to please yo
he would whisper to you about being naughty by choosing such a dress and struggling not to adjust his cock in his pants
when you whispered back telling him to wait until he found out what was beneath it his mind just went crazy and he hoped it was dark enough that nobody would notice how aroused he was
the whole night he would be fantasizing about what would greet him if he slipped his fingers beneath your gown
he thought about whether you would have on any stockings, strained by the belt that held them up at your waist
he thought about if he would be greeted with sticky thighs and your bare cunt or some more lace that hardly covered your private bits
he would spend the night staying close to you, although he's normally not one for pda, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you
it would be subtle and nothing daring, but a constant hand around your waist or shoulders bumping into one another
as you slow danced he would be in close proximity to you and telling you the filth that was in his mind
his erection pressed gently up against your hips as a reminder of what exactly it was you had to look forward to later
Sebastian x f!reader
he would have planned to go all out with a reaction to embarrass you like catcalling you and whistling when you showed up
but instead he's just speechless with his mouth hanging open
his eyes are glued to how your outfit fits you so perfectly
when you make your way down the stairs you walk up to him and place a finger on his chin to close his mouth for him
he seems to snap out of it and he winds his hands over your waist, giving you a sly smile
"this dress is going to look amazing on the floor tonight"
he definitely had a hard-on, but he tried his best to ignore it
you spend the night going back and force in attempts to tease each other
he tries to impress you when you dance together and when he removes his jacket and pushes his sleeves up his arms to try and relieve the heat he's feeling, you really start feeling your own
Sebastian is mentally undressing you all night and tries to take guesses at what you're wearing underneath your dress
he feels like he's on fire anytime you touch him
he's really married to the idea of bunching your skirts up and fucking you with your dress still on
Garreth x f!reader
super flustered when he sees you
he's quick to scoop you up and takes a moment to twirl you around just to look at you
the look of lust in his eyes isn't one that's easy to miss
he lets you lead the night, if you want to dance that's where he'll be
if you want a drink, he's off to get it
he's shockingly quiet during the socializing because he just keeps eyeing a different part of you
every time you shift he's looking for a new sliver of exposed skin or a strain in the fabric that shows him the outline of your body underneath
he's definitely trying and failing to hide the tent in his pants all night
but you insist he loosens up and relaxes, promising you'll take care of him later
which just makes his thoughts stray even more
he imagines the indents of the bodice in your soft skin and kissing ever one
he's thinking about undressing you as slow as possible to appreciate how much effort you put in to the ensemble
Ominis x m!reader
he would hear Sebastian comment sadly about he liked your dress robes much more than his own
Ominis would smile as you descended the steps and took his hand
you would let him know you selected colors just to correspond with his, per Sebastian's sleuthing, and Ominis would heat up on the spot
he would comment about wishing he could appreciate it better
in response you would turn to face him and guide his hands up to your shoulders, dragging them down your silky coat lapels and over the ruffles of your shirt
stopping his hands at your hips to avoid being indecent, but you would notice how his lips part
"Merlin, you're going to be the death of me"
he loved peeling silky and soft clothing from you, it felt much more intimate than something rough like cotton
because he knew it had been carefully selected for him
he would stick close to you and frequently behind you, with hands wrapped around your waist so you could feel his arousal firmly against your backside
when you would be having a conversation with others he would lean to your ear and whisper things to make you go feral
about how badly he wanted to trace his fingers over your stomach and down to your cock
how he wondered if you sat down with your robes just right, he would be able to palm you through your trousers without anyone noticing
Sebastian x m!reader
he would be waiting for you, looking cocky with his arms crossed
he would be doing his best to contain how much he wanted to chase you back up the stairs to take your clothes back off
he would walk up to you and give you a lingering kiss that was practically begging you to run off somewhere else with him
he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you
when you danced his hands would be at your hips or shoulders
when you had a seat he would be tracing dangerous circles on your thigh
his own legs would be spread open in a teasing invitation where you could see that he was aroused
he would be thinking about how good you feel pressed up against him
he loves to fight with you to try and be the more dominant one during lewd things but he loves it when you eventually just put him in his place
he's just spending the night thinking about how good your going to feel inside him
Garreth x m!reader
completely speechless when you come down the stairs
when you're at the bottom he scrambles forward to retrieve you so you weren't just standing there
he's a mess as he takes in your dress attire and loves seeing you in something more fitted
you can't hold back from teasing him, asking if he likes what he sees
in response he angles himself towards you in a way where he shamelessly grounds his erection against you
he ends up being more quiet than usual, but he's very giggly
he's basically giving you bedroom eyes every time you look at him
he's taking in your form and thinking about all the sweet spots that lie underneath
he's thinking about all the places he knows you love being kissed and suckled on
even though it wouldn't put out his own fire at all he's thinking about how amazing you would look in your outfit, standing above him and forcing his head onto your cock
#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow smut#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt smut#garreth weasley#garreth weasley smut#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy smut#hogwarts legacy headcannon#ominis smut#ominis headcannon#ominis gaunt headcannon#sebastian sallow headcannon#garreth weasley headcannon#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis x reader#ominis gaunt x m!reader#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow x m!reader#garreth weasley x reader#garreth weasley x m!reader
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INTERVIEW 010
with. rafe cameron and jj maybank
includes. ghostface!rafe and jj, DUBCON, fem!reader, knife play, breaking and entering, unprotected p n v sex, mean!rafe and jj (obvi), reader isn't aware of their identities
→ kinktober masterlist
The knife that reflects the low light, pointed directly at you, should cause alarm. It should at least be the cause of the spike in your heart rate, instead of the two masked men who wield it. It should make your mouth dry, instead of increasing saliva production.
You should be worried about your current position. About your current predicament.
Kneeled on the carpeted floor of your childhood home, hands politely, and voluntarily, placed in your lap, your entire body lax and complacent even with two imposing figures looming over you, masked and dressed in all black combat gear.
They stare at you, silent, calculating, eyes invisible beneath the ghost face and the black cloth that covers the oblong eye slits. The last time they spoke to you, – the first barking a hard command of “get on your knees” and the second cooing a condescending praise of “that’s it” when you did as told – you heard their voices through a modulator, designed to disguise possibly the most telling aspect of them.
The distortion of it shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. But nothing about this situation should have been as arousing as it is.
Two masked men, completely unidentifiable, breaking into your home and holding a knife pointed at you with intent to use, shouldn’t be attractive. But between your legs is soaked, gray panties housing a dark gray patch right in the center of them.
You didn’t have the thought to slip a pair of pants on after your shower earlier, leaving you in a tiny tee and your underwear, no bra to cover your hardening nipples from the perpetrators that stand before you.
They notice it, you can tell they do, it’s impossible not to notice. Yet they don’t say anything.
Instead, the one on the left, the taller of the two, leans down and raises a gloved hand. You flinch, but there’s no reason to, his hand raising to your chest instead of your face. His thumb and pointer finger single themselves out, closing around your pert nipple. He squeezes, as if he’s testing you, and you hiss. When his thumb grazes over the area instead of pinching it, you don’t know if it’s a gift, if you’d passed his test or not.
You’re still unaware of your status when the other circles behind you, hand coming to your front view to cup your chin. You watch the glove come into view, eyes instead going up when he pushes your head back, making it so you look straight at him. The blank stare of the mask menacing, yet you’re not afraid.
Instead, you shuffle on your knees, rubbing your thighs together in a pathetic attempt to receive some sort of friction. It doesn’t work, but you succeed in getting their attention, two pairs of snickers sounding from either side of you.
“Give her what she wants,” the one behind you suggests to the other, the words lacking the harshness that an order should. Instead, it’s a simple suggestion, one you hope the other decides to take.
When he does, getting what you want has never felt so good.
Not even the pain in your knees could dull this feeling, skin scraping along the rough texture of the overpriced rug your parents love so much as you attempt to hold yourself up. One of your hands digs into the black fabric of the denim jeans that one of your assailants wears, the other pressed flat into the harsh fabric beneath you.
Your hand placements does nothing to steady you, though, not when the masked figure behind you is fucking you like this. Raw, something that only concerned you for an astonishingly brief second before you let your thoughts go in favor of reveling in the pleasure. Pleasure which multiplied once the figure in front of you had his cock down your throat.
The living room is a mixture of sounds; the deep groans from the one behind you mixed with his insistent praises that degrade you all at the same time, the almost-whimpers from the one in front of you as he holds a hand at the back of your neck to force you to take more and more, and your pathetic garbling as you don’t bother attempting to muffle your own sounds while you take it all in.
You’ve never been more full, nor have you ever been more fucking aroused. You can hear your own arousal over your slurping, pornographic squelches of bare skin abusing your gummy walls. You can feel it dripping around you, the skin of your inner thighs wet and warm.
In a risky move, you shakily raise one of your hands to bring it between your legs, running your fingers over your clit with a touch that has your eyes rolling back.
“Look at her. She’s really getting off to this, huh?” The voice behind you is distant as you start to rub a little faster, tight circles clearly intended to get yourself off.
“Gonna make yourself cum, sweetheart? Hm? Getting off to two men breaking into your apartment and having their way with you.” He’s mean with it, and you’re sure the words are spoken to put you down, maybe fill you with shame and make you falter a bit.
Instead, they do the opposite, sending you over the edge in an orgasm that has your legs shaking, body practically collapsing to the floor.
They follow you to the ground, because although you may be done, it doesn’t mean they are.
#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑#rafetobr!#jjtobr!#rafesworld!#jjsworld!#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#dark!rafe cameron#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank smut#dark!jj maybank
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where you sleep
pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader
day three of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: hand kink
-> read her day three here
summary: When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see.
warnings/tags: pwp!, hand kink, oral sex (m recieving), dom/sub dynamics, masturbation (m), exhibitionism, misuse of underwear/underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), creepy!joel (/dark!joel?)
word count: 1.7k
rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni
a/n: gotta give an extra kiss to @pascalisbaby for not only saving this from the delete button more than once but for always being the best person alive!!!
main masterlist
You hear him, first—the end of a damp squelch, the sharp intake that breaks between coupling breaths, on a loop—from your place at the front door. It’s only clear enough to be interpreted as motion, disjointed pieces of noise that make you think he might be struggling, or hurt—so you follow.
Padding lightly down the hallway in the dim afternoon, a twinge of anxiety leans lamely against your heart with all its dead weight; guilty already, even with no cause. Your chest thrums as it tries to hold up, picturing all of the ways he could have ended up wounded while trying to fix your shower, but when you reach the bathroom, it’s empty. No blood, no horrific scene, just a pile of loose tools and a smattering of fine plaster from where he’d dug around in the wall—yet the sounds persist somewhere further.
You continue down, not quiet by any means, a little disturbed by his lack of interest in your arrival. He’s in your room, you deduce—the only occupiable space left in the home—coming into view now with the aid of long, heavy steps. Announcing yourself, just in case.
The door is split open enough to see a long strip of empty space—the corner of your unmade bed, the swirling edge of your dresser, a sliver of mirror posed straighter than usual.
As you sidle up to the frame, the sounds pitch up—strained hissing and sloppy glide of skin reaching a peak—and so you risk a deeper lean to see what it is he’s gotten himself into; what it is that isn’t worth hiding.
A weak wash of daylight squeezes through the kinks in the blinds, allowing you only the fuzzy edges of what he’s doing.
Joel sits on the far side of the bed, body angled so that you can see just a little more than profile, hunched roundly over his lap. He’s almost fully dressed—button-up intact right up to the neck, crinkled tops of his jeans still upright on his legs—everywhere except his center.
He has one hand braced on his stomach, wide and solid and threaded with thick cords of vein, the fabric of his modesty folded up into his thumb. The waistline of his pants is zipped and peeled open at the thigh, the buckle of his belt jolting with faint clinks on every off-beat. A crude frame for the action resting within it.
His cock is slick in his right hand, a band of bright wet flashing between his fingers as he makes rough passes along it, stuttering minutely when he moves down to the base. He fucks the column fervently, the hard muscle of his clutched fist sending a push of arousal between the tops of your thighs.
He touches himself as roughly as he seems able to tolerate—the sinew between his first set of knuckles dipped harshly, peaks white from strain, the tips of the hand on his stomach turning in against his own flesh enough to ripple.
Something pink, unnaturally so, peaks between his fingers every so often, calling you away from your observation of his abdomen. He’s particularly enamored with whatever it is—panting every time it swirls over the head, dulling the sheen of his pull.
Fabric, you realize, absorbing the slip on his skin. You squint, assessing the texture of the material as it darkens with each stroke. Lace fabric; scallop-edged lace fabric that looks starkly familiar to what had been discarded in a shallow grave on top of your too-full hamper the night before.
He shoves into the cloth, webbing it around the points of his fingers like a pocket, canting his hips off the bed to slot into it and he huffs in frustration when he manages to miss a few times, stunted.
You glance up to see he’s maneuvering himself blindly; despite his intricate goal he looks straight ahead, eyes still open from what you can make out, concentration elsewhere as he fumbles against the make-shift cunt.
You track his focus, only half-way across the room when you remember just how much the door had been left open, the crease of the frame very visible in the newly-positioned mirror at your bedside—the intention of it.
The realization rushes between your ribs like ice-water, little knocks of frozen pellets as they swim between the bones on the way down. The force is so fast you feel like you’re going to keel over—not assisted by the way your knees already feel tight from the strain of keeping yourself motionless.
You hit the end of the line, his expression wild where he meets you in the reflection, pleased.
“You just gonna watch, sweetheart? That’s all?”
When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see.
“Joel—Fuck, I’m… I didn’t mean to-”
He uses his unoccupied hand to help him rise to his feet, his right not ceasing to work himself as he rounds the edge of the mattress. You cower, still mostly inaccessible behind the wood, so he reacts accordingly—slows, tames his grin, knits the inner corners of his brow to look disarming.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You caught me in a bit of a bind here, honey,” he pumps lazily, head bowing to direct your attention as if you would need the assistance, “No big deal. Wouldn’t hurt if you offered to help—might as well work for the show.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, afraid to pierce the illusion, the dream in front of you a few words from melting away, and he pouts something disappointed.
“Don’t need to invite you into your own room, do I?”
“Joel,” you try again, weak.
“Heard you the first time—didn’t mean to. We’re past that. I forgive you. Now c’mon, come take a closer look—like I know you want to.”
Hesitantly, you hook an ankle around the edge of the door, willing yourself forward. Joel nods encouragingly before cutting the distance with his own wide steps.
He uses his clean hand to cup the swell of your cheek, thumb twisting to dig into the fullest part, the pads against your neck pressing down like a suggestion, and you fold without question, tucking a knee beneath you to guide yourself to the floor.
Joel releases you, draping the curve of his shirt up into his palm again to reveal what had been only momentarily concealed beneath it. Even so, your eyes stay fixed on the spread of his fingers against his belly, right past the place where his cock hangs between his legs.
“Didn’t seem to have a problem looking when you thought I didn't know. Don't be shy.” His words are encouraging but his tone is laced with annoyance, frustrated maybe that you aren’t responding with the enthusiasm he wants.
He resumes playing with himself, the stretch of lace in his clutch not enough to claim your favor—the way his nails pierce his stomach far more intriguing.
He seems to understand, trailing his palm up to his chest, still holding the hem, a smile curling on his lips when you follow the movement.
“Oh, that’s what you like?”
He releases his length, letting the lace slot between the crease of his thumb like a bracelet. “You want me to touch you with these, sweetheart?” He waves the wet hand lewdly before offering it to you, “Want me to put them in your mouth?”
You nod, and he lets the rough tips of his pointer and middle tap on the center of your bottom lip, watching shamelessly as you open up for him on instinct.
“Look at that. I think we can figure out something here that works out for both of us, hm?”
He doesn’t bother letting you answer, lining the row of his longer fingers outward against your lower lip, his thumb braced against the upper. You stick your tongue out, curling it around his first finger to try and coax him inside but he has another idea. He spreads his legs, settling his weight before leaning to feed the tip of his cock through the channel he’s created with his hand, breaching the open space of your mouth.
You take him enthusiastically and he makes a choked sound, the plane of his chest pushing out hard between firm breaths, a stripe of pink crawling up his neck and across his face. He’s ruffled, composure broken, his own mouth agape in veiled mockery.
“There you go. So pretty. You wouldn’t say no if I asked you to come down your throat, would you?”
You do your best to shake your head, working him deeper, the row of your bottom teeth secure under the line of his pointer.
He shudders, the nail of his thumb pushing you open wider as he slides in as far as he can manage at this angle, with so much already occupying the inside of your face.
“That’s right, honey. Good girl for me, aren’t you? Walked right into my little gift, eager. Let’s reward you, hm?”
You hum in response, lost to anything other than the brush of his hand against your chin when he thrusts too quickly, the drag of the inside of his knuckles against your tongue.
“Fuck. You like it, too. Should’ve come by sooner.”
Pressure builds in the pit of your stomach, hot and rolling as where it falls over into the cradle of your core. You rub your legs together in an attempt to relieve it and he whines, bucking up quicker into the hollow of your cheeks, the fabric of your forgotten underwear slipping in with the rest of his mess on a jostled punch.
Joel starts to unwind, heaving in hard gulps and elbow craning out in a jagged, rhythmic sway. He unhinges his jaw like he wants to say more but you bend, taking more of him than you should be able to, the soft wedge of his head prodding your throat and he grunts, rounding out his spine as he comes as far down as he promised to.
You puff up your cheeks around him, an almost-smile, swallowing as much as you can before pulling off of him with a gentle pop, your own palm sliding up to take hold of his forearm. He lets you, deflated from his orgasm, and you run your tongue over what you couldn’t catch on his skin.
“Should’ve known,” he chuckles, peering down at you between soaked lashes before assisting, sliding two fingers into your parted lips, “Let’s find out what else you like.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller/reader#kinktober 2023#kinktober#dark!joel x reader
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GF KATE HEADCANONS
go thank @iminlovewithpaigebueckers, i also completely stole the formatting from her. ty twin
gf!kate def overheard you say/like a post that said hey mamas or mama, so she waits until she has you a little cocky to call you mamas just to see what happens it becomes her new addiction, especially lil mamas
gf!kate is a little shit
gf!kate sends you little facebook mom selfies whenever she travels
^^and/or vlogs and recaps when you guys can’t ft
gf!kate will learn your whole skincare routine just in case you need her to do it when you’re drunk
gf!kate appreciates feminine things and girly things: “i like that little sparkle, the white glitter it’s pretty,” while pointing to your inner corner highlight.
“you smell good,” when she catches you in passing or just when you’ve finished getting ready.
will sit on your bed helping you choose outfits… and will also cover her eyes when you get changed, all panicked just in case you don’t wanna be seen. doesn’t matter if you tell her it’s fine (she’s literally seen every inch of your skin) she’s sitting there with her hands over her eyes no peeking (maybe a single peek)
gf!kate will actually respect if you wanna pay or dress more masculine, she gets it. no stereotypes here!!
gf!kate will braid or curl your hair just to show her love and stare at you
^^^ for my textured hair girlies this includes how to do your edges!!! what products she needs to use on you!! how much!!!!
gf!kate is very white. gf kate will not understand certain slang or terms until you explain it to her. gf kate gets excited when she uses said slang correctly
gf!kate would make an attempt to read your favorite book when she’s traveling (i said attempt idk if she’s finish it i don’t know if she’s a reader or not) in my head she is simply bc i read a book a day and i make the rules here
gf!kate will also try your music taste!!
gf!kate loves buying her girl lingerie. she doesn’t give a FUCK abt prices or if you’re nervy. kinda goes with the femininity thing, she’d like to see you in lacey things and pretty colors and such
gf!kate is the biggest hype woman, genuinely thinks you are perfect (BUT IS STILL A WOMAN AND WILL UNDERSTAND HORMONES AND INSECURITIES)
gf!kate is a fan of traditional things: flowers, treating her girl to date nights she plans, she’s always driving, lowkey would ask your parent/parent figure/ important person in your life to marry you, not in a possessive way but in the way that she thinks it’s polite and necessary
gf!kate loves visiting her girls family, and they love her, no matter how crazy they are
gf!kate can fixate on your boobs or thighs or hips and just lay and kiss for forever they’re her fav place to nap, and let’s be real my girls napping a lot
gf!kate likes to hover and stare and just watch you do your thing in your habitat (you call her national geographic for a reason)
NSFW
gf kate lovesssss to give head, she just loves making you feel good and making you squirm, she also loves hearing you get loud, won’t ask you to be loud tho. but she’ll never tell you to not cover your mouth if you try to cover it, she just takes it as you trying to stay comfortable
gf kate will braid your hair before fucking you so she has something to pull 🫣
gf kate tries really hard to stay more controlling when she’s topping but she still gets shy sometimes and is also dying (she’s so turned on she can barely think)
gf kate is kind of afraid to be mean to you, she just feels too bad
gf kate will never proposition sex, she might hint at it or have that look in her eye, but she’d rather sit and be horny than ask you when you don’t want to
gf kate would go so far as to get herself off in the bathroom or shower just so she doesn’t bother you if she knows you’re not in the mood or on your period
gf kate gets worked up fast but tries to take it slower to make her girl feel good
gf kate likes phone calls and guided/mutual masterbation
gf kate takes a whilleeeeee to stop being shy when you top, specifically when you go down on her she’s so nervous and can’t look at you (go check out my fic if you like this one)
gf kate cannot handle it when you kiss her neck, like at all. especially when she’s fucking you if you kiss her neck she’d get all breathy and try to pretend like she doesn’t keep stalling and pausing her thrusts
gf kate also cannot handle it when you bite or kiss her shoulders, arms, and back. like that’s the way to get her to melt
gf kate will eat her girl out to hozier, fuck her girl to hozier, and let her girl fuck her to hozier
gf kate is adorable
#kate martin#kate martin my beloved#kate martin headcanons#i forgot to post this like a week ago#don’t hate me i don’t have a brain okay#twin !!!#100% stole her layouts#stole the last one as well#wcbb#active era!!
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hi!! i just had to drop by and say the customer’s always right was some of the best smut i’ve read in so long. omfg it was perfect and i can’t stop thinking about it. and that cliffhanger?! you’re trying to kill me i swear 😭 do you think you’ll end up writing a part two? 👀
THE CUSTOMER’S ALWAYS RIGHT | screw the deal
summary: "there's an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it."
pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader
word count: 6.7k
warning: thigh riding, tit play, talks of asshole boyfriends, smut 18+ mdni
a/n: ok so i'm still a bit overwhelmed by the support from the last part. like, seriously, you guys are way too fucking nice <333 i hope this lives up to expectations and if it doesn't we can just pretend, okay? be on the look out for many, many more parts to come because i can't get enough of virgin!eddie.
( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )
The credits of Fast Times at Ridgemont High roll beneath a jittery static of a nineteen-inch TV. Eddie, dressed now in a fresh pair of thin, plaid pajama pants, bangs on the side of the thing with his fist to physically jostle the grainy texture from the screen. It only half works.
He feels about as fuzzy as the lingering white noise on his television — like he’s not all there, like his brain is still misty and he needs to lie down. He’s still reeling from the after-effects of his freight train of an orgasm where he stands even now. And you were just touching him through his jeans.
“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you’re inside me,” you purred to him in a breathless promise. He understands, now, that just might kill him.
It’s lame. He’s lame. And he thinks he might be in love.
You don’t seem to be as affected by it as he is. Though, to be fair, you’re not the one that just came in their underwear. Either way, you’re able to avoid the bubble of bliss that settles over the trailer like a warm and weighted blanket. You evade it all with a level of finesse that makes his chest swirl with an emotion that he can’t name but he can feel. Like, if he could reach through his ribcage right now, he could physically pull it out of him and hold it in his hands, it’s so damn palpable.
You’re standing at his decade-old washing machine with his cum-stained underwear and black ripped jeans in a wadded ball at your hip. You lift the weighty metal lid and throw the dirty clothes inside, then rise on the tips of your toes to reach for the detergent and fabric softener on the cluttered shelf about your head.
The way you float through the trailer is gut-wrenchingly admirable. It's almost like you’ve lived here as long as Eddie has.
You’re still fully dressed, alarmingly put together, and not at all as jostled-looking as the boy across the living room. Your sweater isn’t wrinkled, your skirt is pulled down from where it had ridden up, and your boots are still on and squeaky clean. You look like a professional and move like one too, totally unfazed by it all, as though making men come so hard they see stars is just a pastime for you.
It almost makes him jealous, knowing your magic has touched other, undoubtedly unworthy guys. But he can’t find it in himself to get angry or bitterly self-conscious. You’re in his trailer now, not out with some other asshole, and you’re washing his fucking clothes.
It makes Eddie feel like you’re his already. A primal sort of possessiveness wells deep within him. He wants to protect this moment and keep it to himself forever.
You peek subtly over at him while sprinkling in the washing powder, pretending to scratch your jaw with your shoulder under the guise of catching a glimpse of the boy behind you. He’d put up quite the fight about you laundering his dirty bottoms upon realizing how serious you were, but he’s quiet now.
“I made the mess, Munson,” you’d argued. “Let me clean it up.”
That shut him up real quick.
You find that he looks more comfortable now. He’s out of the usual leather jacket and tight pants duo that most people rarely see him out of — it feels like a privilege to observe him like this. He’s traded them for a pair of loose red sleep pants spotted with barely-there stains and tiny holes like he’s had them for ages. They probably used to be Wayne's.
His rings stay on, however, and the Def Leppard tee too.
You can see more of his body without the thick jacket to shield him. The way the fabric clings to his upper half, you can just make out the subtle lines of his torso, the tightness of his chest, and the soft pudge of his stomach.
He looks less like he’s trying, but he’s somehow even prettier this way.
His chocolate eyes glimmer beneath the dim light of the living room while his hands fidget something fierce at his sides. It’s like he’s itching to do something with them but has convinced himself not to.
You wonder if it’s the urge to touch you that he’s fighting.
You wish that he wouldn’t.
Shutting the heavy lid, you press the faded green button on the start pad. The sound of water trickling from the top goes muffled. The machine starts to shake, wobbling back and forth with age and fatigue alike.
Once you spin on your heel to face the boy, you’re able to catch a much better look at him. And the way he suddenly and oh, so casually flits his gaze to the ceiling in an effort to pretend like he wasn’t just staring at you.
His hair is wild and his eyes are tired. He probably just wants to sleep.
You begin to fear that you’ve overstayed your welcome. This wasn’t what this was supposed to be, after all. Some heavy petting was expected, of course, but certainly not of this magnitude. Eddie was prepared to cop a feel, not watch you while you wash his fucking clothes.
So out of worry that you’ve turned this — whatever this was — into something that it wasn’t, it becomes your mission to ease the tension you’d singlehandedly crafted.
“Oh. You must be tired, huh?” you question sympathetically with an awkward hand on the back of your neck. “It is getting pretty late. Maybe I should… I should go—”
“What? No! You don’t— You don’t have to go!” Eddie is quick to interject with the rapid shake of his head. Fluffy curls shake around the frame of his face. His eyes go wide. It makes your heart sing.
But now he’s the scared one. Fearing he’s come off as overzealous, he backtracks with a shrug. “I mean… If you want to. But I… I don’t really…”
“You don’t really what?” you press once he trails off, brows raised ro your hairline and a smile teasing at the corners of your lips.
“I don’t know… I— I guess I’d just... I’d kinda like it if you stayed.”
The revelation seems to shock you, delightfully so, because you’re lighting up again like a christmas tree. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he nods, suddenly shy. His chin falls to his chest, and he takes to gazing at you with a sparkling gaze through his lashes as he confesses: “I didn’t… I didn’t even get to touch you.”
His eyes squeeze shut and his face scrunches as he silently cringes at how lame the words sound spilling from his mouth.
“Oh, right. The deal,” you lilt, missing his unstated point and forming your own. You laugh a little at yourself. “That’s literally why I came over in the first place. Sorry. I guess I got a little… carried away.”
“Screw the deal,” he blurts. “I just wanna make you feel good.”
It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night where his voice isn’t shaking. His sudden confidence seems to take you both by surprise.
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hide your sheepish grin and failing. With your hands clasped behind your back — inadvertently jutting out your chest and the twinkling pendant resting upon it — you take slow steps towards him, like a tiger sneaking up on its prey.
Except you’re not exactly being sly about it.
Eddie’s just not running away.
You manage to look so innocent still, all flushed out and smiling at him. “You don’t have to touch me to make me feel good, Eds.”
His brows furrow. “…I don’t?”
“I just like spending time with you,” you shrug shyly when you finally reach the boy. He remains frozen by the television that’s gone static again, the screen all fuzzy in time with the misty haze you’ve put his brain into.
You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, pressing your warmth so intently against his body, like you would melt with him if the rules of the universe allowed it.
Eddie swallows thickly at the foreign feeling of having someone so close. His gaze falls to your quirked-up lips. He wonders if it’d be too inappropriate to kiss you now — if he still needs to ask or if the two of you crossed that bridge an orgasm and a half ago.
You notice his unabashed, button-eyed stare and grin at him with a similar brazenness.
“You don’t have to, Eddie. Promise,” you assure with a softness that was previously unfamiliar to him before now. “That’s not why I did that — you know, so you had to return the favor or whatever.”
“No, I know. I just…” he trails off for a moment and darts his tongue out to wet his chapped lips. “I’d really like to make you feel good. If you’ll let me.”
You shake your head at him. It’s not a rejection, though, just an expression of disbelief at how he hasn’t gotten the hint yet. So you just come right out and tell him. “I’d let you do anything to me, Eds.”
He swears, it’s that fucking scene from Fast Times all over again, the same one that got him into this mess. Eddie’s starting to convince himself that this is all just one big fever dream and that you’re his personal Phoebe Cates sent to haunt him in a fantasy far too heavenly to be real.
He’s the Hawkins freakshow, for chrissakes — since when does the town’s local weirdo get to dabble in such simple pleasures?
“Well, what do you wanna do?” you ask him like you’re the timid one. Like you didn’t just make him bust in his pants like a teenager half an hour ago.
He can’t tell if you’re playing coy to get him riled up or if your coquettish nature is just a symptom of your nervousness. It’s hot either way, he concludes, but asking him for guidance is a mistake you don’t even realize you’re making.
His hands falter where they rest on your hips — fidgeting, squeezing, and fidgeting some more.
“I, uh… I want you to…” he does his best to keep his gaze locked with yours, egged on by the intrigued glint in your eye, but it’s a difficult feat. “…to rub yourself, you know, against my— my thigh… If you want.”
He feels like an idiot, the total opposite of cool and mysterious and sexy. His cheeks burn cherry with embarrassment. You smile sweetly up at him, anyway. It both soothes and sends a sick feeling of anticipation swimming in his stomach.
Eddie’s always so sweet with you. Always asking to do something, but only if you want to. He’s all shy and finicky, like he’s nervous you might turn him down, though you’ve only ever said yes to him.
It makes you wonder if he’s ever been dominant with a girl before or if this is the first time someone’s asked him what he wants to do in bed.
It sends a foreign flash of pride in your chest.
“Okay. How about this?” You concede with a grin. Your hands fall from his shoulders and move down his torso, smooth like drops of water. You rest your palms on his hips as you walk him slowly backward. “I’ll ride your thigh, and you can play with my tits. You know, so you don’t get bored.”
The back of his knees meet the couch and he falls lamely onto the cushions. He blinks up at you. “Don’t get… bored?”
Who the fuck is getting bored when there’s a woman getting off on their lap? he actually wants to say but isn’t quite brave enough to.
“Yeah,” you shrug like the answer is obvious. “Most guys have a hard time, I don’t know, being present if it isn’t about them.”
“Well, most guys are stupid.”
“You’re definitely right,” you scoff out a laugh, though it’s mostly muffled when you strip your sweater up and over your head.
The motions come easy to you. There’s an obvious lack in overthinking that Eddie notices right away because it’s the thing that’s been plaguing him all night. He’s both envious and fascinated, but more so mesmerized by the sight that is slow to unfold before him.
Your bra isn’t anything special, just a white cotton number with a cute little bow sitting neatly between your tits. It’s a size or more too small for you, as though you’ve had it for quite some time. The tops of your breasts bulge from the cup. Eddie so desperately wants to sink his teeth into the skin there.
“How could anyone get bored of you…?” he mumbles softly to himself, not realizing that he’s actually said the words out loud until you’re answering him.
“I don’t know,” you respond with a breathless chuckle, tossing your top onto the couch beside him with a dull thud. “You should try asking my ex-boyfriend.”
“Fuck that guy,” Eddie blurts without thinking.
You laugh again. It’s comforting. Like a familiar face in a sea of strangers or a warm hug when you’re freezing. You’re smiling when you finally settle over his lap, your thighs straddling over one of his own. You were just here minutes ago, but it still feels so new.
Eddie wants you here, against him, forever.
“You don’t even know him.”
“Well, he let you go,” he reasons as he places two unconfident and shaking hands along the bare skin of your thighs where your skirt had ridden up. “So he’s gotta be a little bit of an asshole.”
“How about a lot a bit?” you playfully correct with a faltering smile and wandering eyes that flit to the ceiling.
You’re certain Eddie hasn’t noticed your momentary, faraway blip at mention of a boy who made your life a living hell. But when your gaze meets his again, you find a pair of bushy brows furrowed in concern beneath his curly bangs. His rich, chocolate cake colored eyes are coated with concern.
In an effort to deflect from the silence and the brief flicker of following awkwardness, you grip the boy’s shoulders and reach for a kiss.
He isn’t quite swayed, however. Not even when your bottom lips brush together when he asks you: “…What’d he do?”
“Let’s maybe not talk about my ex-boyfriend when I’m trying to kiss you, okay?” you advise without decreasing the proximity. Your mouth still chases his, desperate in more ways than one.
“Okay—”
You’re kissing him as soon as the word tumbles from his lips. You lick into him without warning and he huffs a pitiful moan. You feel the exhale of it against your cupid’s bow.
It’s sloppy, all tongue and teeth, like two teenagers trying to figure out how to kiss each other. That’s what it feels like, anyway. You explore his mouth like it’s undiscovered territory, like he’s all yours to claim.
He lets you.
His head falls back to the edge of the couch, mouth obediently agape for you, as you rut the rough pad of your tongue against his own. You part from him only to suck at his kiss-bitten bottom lip, and you pull away from him so achingly slow just to watch the rosy plush pop back into place.
You smile like you’ve won some sort of prize with him. Your eyes are sparkling and heavy with desire.
Eddie fidgets beneath you at the unfamiliarity of it all. It makes his chest so warm and fuzzy that his heart begins to ache. He can’t tell if he wants to keep looking or close his eyes to hide from it. So he just kisses you — or rather, tries to.
You’re pulling back with a mischievous sort of grin before your lips can meet.
The sound of his discontent comes out in a muffled whine trapped in his throat. A low and yearning sound that makes your smile widen.
Unamused by your teasing, Eddie huffs a rather dramatic sigh. He grips your hips with ring-clad fingers and drags you further against him. The fabric of his pants creates a rough friction against your cotton underwear and you feel it all against your clit.
Before you have the chance to moan, Eddie’s lips are already back on yours.
His touch is more confident now, not just in the way he keeps you pressed against his thigh, but in the way he kisses you. You’re no longer in control as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, perhaps more aggressively than intended. He roams the ridges of the roof of your mouth and the soft, irregular-patterned pad of your tongue like it’s an undiscovered island. And you let him — you beg him without words, and only in hushed and breathy moans.
He trails wet kisses down your chin and your jaw to your neck, leaving the warmed skin glistening with his spit and cooling when he leaves it.
While he mouths desperately at your collarbone, just beside the strap of your bra, his hands rise rise rise — fingers tickling below the hem of your skirt before traveling up to your hips. Eddie squeezes softly at the skin when he reaches your naked waist.
You laugh with merriment when he does. He can feel the rapid rise and fall of your shoulders from where he rests against you. A soft smile tugs at his lips. You can feel the contortion of it against your skin.
He stops kissing you when his fingers try their hand at unlatching your bra. You’re not sure he even realizes it. He loses the ability to multitask when he finds that it’s a harder feat than he thought.
You can imagine the look of concentration on his face, brows furrowed and tongue poking out of his mouth, as he fidgets with the clasp. It makes you smile to yourself.
“Need help?”
“No, I— I got it,” he declines quickly. “—Shit. Was this made by a fucking rocket scientist or some shit?”
You giggle again. It feels like being bathed in rays of sunlight, adding heat to his already burning cheeks.
“Have you never taken off a girl’s bra before?”
You don’t sound like you’re teasing him. You just sound curious and kinda of shocked at his struggling. It makes him tense anyway.
His virginity makes him feel like Spiderman. Like he’s got this alter ego that he can’t possibly reveal to you because it might change everything. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to — yet — because his hands inadvertently freeze and the clasp behind your back clicks lowly when it unfastens.
He’s able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Your bra eases its constriction on your chest. The tight straps loosen at your shoulders, and your fingers tug them until they're slipping down your arms.
You don’t even look at him at first, not the slightest glance to gauge his reaction. He wonders if it’s intentional — your nonchalance — as you pay more attention to the bra you toss off to the side than to the boy suddenly rigid beneath you.
And when you do finally look back at him, you can’t quite measure the expression on his face. His eyes are heavy and focused on your tits, his face lax and void of any readable emotion.
He doesn’t say anything, not for a while — or at all — and you don’t know what to make of it. It’s the first time you’ve shown your tits to a guy who wasn’t squeezing them right way (and far too roughly) or biting at them so hard they leave teeth marks.
You hate that shit. But it might be preferable to no reaction at all.
Without thinking, you bring your hands to your chest, crossing your arms over your breasts as embarrassment burns against your cheeks.
You make a sad joke of it, a measly “Sorry, if I didn’t, you know, live up to expectations—”
Eddie’s quick to stop you then. It’s like life returns to him as he reanimates, his hands suddenly springing from your waist to your wrists.
But, again, he doesn’t speak. He just holds onto your hands and looks up at you. His gaze swims with something you have difficulty placing — it’s a little sad like yearning, but wild with craving. Lust.
His cinnamon eyes blink up at you and tell you everything without saying a word.
You breathe a sigh of relief through your nose as you relax against him. You let him pull your arms back down to your sides, leaving your tits on display for him once more.
This time when you burn hot, it’s of the fire he’s lit in your chest.
“Do you like them?” you wonder meekly.
Eddie nods. He eyes your breasts like a predator would with its prey. His mouth falls softly agape, looking desperate to be kissed — filled.
“Can... Can I— Can I…” he stammers like a child, though he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He just wants to hold you, to taste you, and you’re so goddamn close.
You respond with an affirmative shake of your head. A soft smile hints at the edges of your lips while you relish in your first time rendering a man speechless with your tits. You watch with glittering eyes as his shaking, terribly unsure hands raise to touch you.
He merely grazes the top of your chest with his fingertips in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine. He fondles you so gently, too timid yet to touch you where you want him most. Like he’s teasing you.
He isn’t, of course, he’s just feeling out the new terrain — literally — but you don’t know that. You just think he’s being playful with you. So you take his hands in yours and press your palms against his knuckles, your fingers against his ring-clad ones, and flatten him against you.
The metal bumps lightly when it meets your pebbled nipple. Chill bumps erupt on the surrounding skin when it does.
His moan entwines with yours.
Eddie grows more confident with his fleeting touches. He squeezes your breasts softly in his palms, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with you, and takes a moment to marvel how warm they feel in his hold.
No one’s ever taken the time to admire any part of you like this before.
When he starts playing with your nipples that stand desperately at attention and ache to be touched, he observes how you react to his touch. You twitch against him when he presses against them, moan when he tweaks the hardened buds between his thumb and forefinger, and throw your head back with bliss when he pinches them.
It’s not for his own pleasure — though he is desperately, desperately turned on — but he likes seeing how he makes you feel so he can do more of the thing you seem to like the most.
He’s attentive in a way you’ve never seen before.
And though every single touch of his is experimental, it feels good, like lightning strikes to your pussy.
Your underwear is more than damp now, more than it already was when you were just feeling him up. It leaves your vision practically blurry with desire. So turned on you’re dumb, there is no thought in your head other than Eddie Eddie Eddie. You want to feel him everywhere.
“That feel good?” he wonders like you aren’t moaning above him without hardly being touched.
“Mm-hmm,” you sigh with a nod. You tilt your head back down to face him and release your bottom lip from where it was caged between your teeth. “You can put your mouth on them if you want.”
And it’s not like it’s the craziest question in the world. You’re just giving him consent to touch you further, which is more than most asshole men in Hawkins wait for, but it drives Eddie absolutely wild.
He’s seen it in porn a million times over, fantasized incessantly about how a girl might feel against his tongue, his teeth. But the moment is here now, sitting right in front of him — just when he thought he might die a virgin — and he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“My… My mouth?”
You nod again, quick to reassure him. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to—”
“Wanna do everything with you,” he interjects without realizing.
“Everything?” you smirk with raised brows and bright eyes. “Think you can handle that, Munson?”
Fuck no, I can barely take this, he thinks to himself.
But instead of saying all that, he just shrugs. “Got to.”
His breath leaves him in a shaky exhale that you can feel against your warmed skin as he nears you. He presses a tentative, too sweet kiss to your sternum and your eyes flutter shut. Not out of pleasure maybe, but from the sheer softness of his touch.
It feels illegal to be handled so gently, like you were some endangered species that he had to be careful with. There’s a lingering sense of undeserving that you have to bat away.
He’s reserved with his kisses at first, only brushing his lips against your tits like he’s trying to commit how they feel to his memory. You only wish he’d do more, leave you whining and gleaming with his spit.
But there’s something spellbinding about his meticulous touches, like he’s trying to wind you up until you snap. You like that.
So be it, if you have to suffer through some teasing, as long as he’ll break you after.
His tongue darts at against your sternum and you moan.
It was accidental, of course, he was just wetting his drying lips, but you seemed to enjoy it. So he keeps doing it.
He lets himself become more assured in the way he touches you, because you seem to like everything he’s done so far. And when his kisses grow wetter and deeper and more passionate, you start to buck your hips against his lap.
He’s not even completely sure if you realize it.
Unthinking, he turns his head and takes your nipple into his mouth. It was instinctual more than anything, it just felt right to touch you there. It��s easy to stop overthinking when you moan louder for him.
He’s got his right hand kneading the skin of your right breast while he mouths at the left one, flicking his tongue against the delicate bud while it’s sucked between his teeth. Your cry is breathy, ethereal, heavenly. Your hands dart to his head, entwining your fingers with the curly strands as you hold him to you.
“God, you're so sweet,” he practically moans against you, reveling in your taste and the feeling of your clothed pussy against his thigh. “And sensitive— god, that’s so fucking hot.”
“Eddie,” you moan when he licks you with a flattened tongue.
He stops for a moment, looking at you with wide, twinkling, innocent fucking eyes, like he’s not effectively ruining you. “Is this good?”
“’S fucking perfect, Eds,” you manage to assure him, though it’s hard to form thoughts of any kind, much less words.
You’re still so wildly turned on from getting Eddie to come in his jeans. It’s got you so embarrassingly close to coming, but the boy mouthing at your sensitive tits doesn’t seem to care, so you don’t either.
He keeps his focus on your chest, switching between squeezing one and licking the other. The combination of his rings rutting against your nipple and his tongue playing wetly with it is a wild one.
All you can feel is Eddie. All you can think about is Eddie.
He’s got you chasing the bleary haze of pleasure against his thigh, moaning at the deviously sweet friction of your cotton panties against your clit.
“God, I’m so wet for you right now,” you moan into his ear, words slurred and quiet.
You’re not trying to drive him crazy, you just are.
He exhales deeply through his nose with his mouth still on you. His breath fans against you and makes you shiver. He grips you hips and pulls you closer to him, desperate to have you nearer like your tit isn’t in his mouth and you’re not getting off on his thigh.
You’re further against his lap now, practically sitting on his hip, and the position change puts all the more pressure on your clit. When you buck your hips against him now, that’s where you feel it all — the pleasure is so concentrated on the cotton-clad, terribly delicate button that it makes you whimper with every pass.
Eddie shows no mercy.
His large hands start to control your movements, squeezing your hip on the up stroke and pressing you harder against him, before gently releasing his hold on the down stroke.
“Eddie,” you cry fragilely.
He pulls off of your tit with a pop. “Yeah?”
“‘M so close.”
“…Okay,” he nods like an idiot, staring up at you with a gaping gaze.
Fortunately for him, your eyes are squeezed shut in bliss, so you don’t see the the brief flare of panic that flashes over his features. He tries to remember what guys do in porn when their girls start getting close.
They talk them through it, right? the stream of consciousness in his head tells him.
But here’s the thing about Eddie — the boy can’t talk to save his life. He’s good at telling off Jason Carver (because fuck that guy) and he’s even better when he’s campaigning, but put a pretty girl in front of him and the dumb facade of the snarky metalhead boy goes out the window. He’s got no earthly idea of what to say now.
So, in running theme of the entirety of this night, he just says what feels right to say.
“Can you come for me?” he asks you, sounding somehow more desperate for your pleasure than you are. “Please?”
You moan louder, hold him closer, hump his thigh him faster.
He wonders, then, if dirty talking is your thing. He makes a mental note to get better at it for you for next time — if there is a next time, the voice in his head reminds him bitterly.
He remembers that this might be the only time he’ll ever get to touch you. He fears that you’ll still think he only wanted to do this because of some stupid deal you made and never allow him the chance to prove that you’re more than just his favorite customer.
But he figures if this is the last time he gets to have you — if he can make you come so hard that you see stars, and if he can commit this whole night to memory — he’ll be the happiest dumbass alive.
“Can you come while I suck on your tits?” Eddie continues to plea before scratching your spit-soaked nipple with his teeth. Your cry racks through your chest. “—You sound so damn pretty when I do it.”
“Yes,” you moan with your head tilted towards the ceiling. He can’t tell if it’s an affirmative answer to his question or a chant of a mindless prayer. “Yes, yes, yes—”
His touch is all consuming, ardent in a way you haven’t felt before. You don’t have to work at your orgasm for it to rise within you, don’t have to think to climb the peaks of pleasure. It’s quite the opposite, really.
You don’t have to work for it, because it’s chasing you. You don’t have to think about anything, because you can’t.
There’s a fire welling within you that leaves you momentarily frightened because you haven’t felt anything like it before.
He’s long past winding you up, you fear, now he wants you to snap.
So you do.
With one final pass up his lap, you still against him, though your legs keep shaking something fierce around his thigh.
Your mouth falls open in a moan, though it doesn’t quite leave that way — you’re silent for a moment, before a meek and fragile cry escapes your throat and fills the empty trailer.
Your hips twitch in time with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Eddie stays with his mouth against your chest and grumbles a moan when he can feel the subtle throbbing of your clit against his thigh.
He doesn’t have much choice in the matter, anyway, because you keep him firmly locked to your tits with your hands in his hair while you come down from your high. He doesn’t much care either. He’d happily drool on your tits every day of the week if you’d let him.
The post-orgasm haze is slow to fade.
You’re buzzing at his touch, feeling fuzzy like you’re stranded on some white, puffy cloud. You just feel Eddie — his hands, his mouth — and that’s when you realize the hold you’ve got on him.
You’re quick to unravel your fingers from his curls and sputter out an apology even in your bleary haze. “Oh— shit— I’m so sorry—”
“No, it’s okay. I liked it,” Eddie assures as you pet his wild head. He pulls back and smiles sloppily at you with pink lips all swollen from his kisses and shiny with his spit.
“Oh?” you hum with a similar lazy grin. “You like having your hair pulled, huh? That’s good to know.”
His eyes fall back to your chest. Your tits glisten with his spit, rising and falling with each of your heavy breaths and catching the light in different places — the red lovebites he’d sucked onto your supple skin, the hardened and raw buds of your nipples.
It makes him feel like he’s claimed you in some way and the thought has him growing hard again.
He shifts his hips beneath you in attempts to soothe the ache blossoming between his legs. You twitch and breathe out an almost inaudible moan when his thigh brushes against your still sensitive pussy.
“Sorry,” he apologizes meekly, though he doesn’t really mean it. He wants to do it again, wants to make you come again, and keep making you come until you can’t decide if you’re crying for him to stop or to keep going.
He can feels your damp pussy on his leg. He wonders if you’ve stained his pants. He hopes you’ve stained his pants.
It makes his head spin to imagine what your panties must look like right now, all sticky with a wet spot in the center of the dainty cotton, your pussy drenched and gooey with your come. His mouth waters with the sudden desire to taste you.
“I made the mess,” he’d tease you with your words from earlier, slipping your drenched panties to the side and sliding a finger between your velvety lips. “Let me clean it up.”
Instead, he just apologizes like an idiot and lets you slip away.
“’S okay,” you breathe with your head tilted backward, still on the come down.
“Was that… Was that good for you?”
“Eddie,” you huff in a scold. “I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”
“…Would you?” he presses.
“Probably not,” you concede with a shrug and then look at him with a playful smile. “But it was good. It was fucking amazing. I mean, I can’t even feel my legs right now, so… You should really work on your confidence when it comes to the whole sex thing.”
He sighs. “You’re probably right.”
“Maybe I can help you...”
“Please,” he begs in a whisper and happily accepts the kiss you press to his lips. It’s slower than before, less messy but no less passionate. It’s soft and sickly sweet, a series of small pecks that makes his heart sing. He never thought someone would be this gentle with him.
The washer beeps a grating and daunting beep, beep, beep that Eddie curses because it puts an end to the sweet moment. You rise from his lap with one last, lingering kiss, and pull the hem of your skirt back down your thighs.
Still in your soaked panties and totally topless, you waltz from his living room and into the kitchen.
You bend over to retrieve his clean pants from the washing machine, momentarily flashing the supple round of your ass, before throwing the clothes into the drier. The thing rumbles lowly in the quiet and clanks every time it beats against the washer.
Eddie watches from afar, his head lolled against the back of the couch. This must be a dream, he figures, because there’s no way you’re real.
There’s an angel in his trailer, washing his cum-stained jeans after getting off on his thigh, and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.
“You’re good to get them out of the drier, yeah?”
“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he answers with a breathy laugh. “But if it means you have to stay for another hour, then no, I’ve never worked a drier in my life.”
Your smile is a sheepish one that you bite to conceal as you waltz back over to him.
You want to stay, you do, but it’s late. And his uncle is bound to come home from work in the following hours. You want Eddie when you’re allowed take your time with him, when there’s no threat that someone might catch you — no risk, no responsibilities, just two people who want to make each other feel good.
If he even wants that, you think to yourself.
The negative self-talk always seems to arrive after you’ve fucked. Most people get a taste of you and don’t go back for seconds. Why would he be any different?
You tug your sweater back over your head. Without your bra to hide you, he can see the perfect outline of your nipples through the soft material. Eddie tries not to stare.
He fails.
“I gotta get home,” you tell him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. “I’ve got a cat to feed and… everything.”
“Oh. Right… Okay.”
He sounds both disappointed and dismissive, like he wants you to stay but doesn’t care enough to make you.
You might’ve, if he’d asked, Bowie would surely survive until an extra early breakfast. You wouldn’t even need to have sex or makeout or anything, you’re all too happy just to spend time with Eddie in this rundown trailer on the wrong side of town.
But he doesn’t ask. And he won’t.
Because he doesn’t know any of that.
As far as he’s concerned, you’re in a rush to get home because you don’t want to be here anymore. Watching you get dressed, Eddie’s starting to feel like this was just a one time thing. He came, he returned the favor, and now he’s only got the memory of you twitching against him while you orgasmed with your tits in his mouth.
He grieves the moment like he’s lost something real and starts to let you leave without saying a goddamn word.
You’re standing at the screen door with your hand on the knob when he notices your pearl-colored bra strewn on the floor.
“Hey! You, uh, you left, your um…” he can’t seem to say the words as he stands with it in his hand, motioning for you to take it. You don’t make an effort to retrieve it, however, as you smile tiredly at him from across the living room.
“I kinda did that on purpose,” you confess bashfully. “So I could have an excuse to come back...”
Eddie glows red with your admission. “Oh. Well. You don’t— You don’t need an excuse to come over.”
“No?”
“No. You can just… pop in, you know, whenever,” he shrugs sheepishly, with his head to his chest and his syrup-y eyes peering through his lashes. “To smoke or… to hang out… or...”
“Fuck?” you finish with a half-sincere laugh.
Eddie shrugs again. “Whatever you wanna do.”
“You said we were gonna do everything, remember?” you remind with a teasing grin and eyes that glimmer with mischief. Eddie nods quickly, all bright and excited like a ball of sunshine and your smile grows. “I’m looking forward to it, then.”
That’s how you leave him, half-hard with the promise of more.
Eddie Munson is so in over his head he can’t breathe. He isn’t completely sure if he wants to. He’s all too happy to drown in you. And It’s scary, a fun kind of scary, like going on a rollercoaster.
He’s never felt this way before and doesn’t want it to stop.
Fuck, he can’t wait to do everything with you.
have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱
#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#virgin!eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#virgin!eddie munson x reader#st oneshots <3#published by bug
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The Rush
MDNI/18+
You drag your tight-laced bodyguard, John Price, out to the club. He gets a bit of a contact high from your molly, and lets you ride his thigh to the rhythm.
TW: drug use, thigh riding, come on clothing
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+
Troye Sivan’s “Rush” was playing in the background, the heavy bass thumping through the hollow of your chest, and you were just beginning to feel the effects of the little blue pill you took in the car. The lights of the club were chaotic, brilliantly so, and you let the music guide you. But, you were lonely.
Your bodyguard was sulking off to the side, dressed like a cop even in casual wear, gripping his gun like it was going to fly away. You loved to bother this man. It didn’t hurt that he was fine as hell, built like a bull, and some type of ex-special forces bloke. It was those eyes, though. Something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.
You sauntered over to him, teasing him for the nth time tonight.
“Hey, John,” you rubbed yourself on him like a cat, “You having fun yet, big boy?”
He smiled with a little huff, scanning the room,
“No, ma’am. Workin’. Fun is for when I get off the clock.”
“I can get you off…” you had finally done enough to earn a long, hard stare, “Maybe not the clock, but…”
You smiled slyly and ran your hands up his shirt, feeling the hair and sweat sticking to his skin. His belly jumped under your hand, giving him away. He didn’t stop you, though, so you kept playing with him, letting his body keep you warm as you sweated out your drugs.
You were high as a kite, and all of his texture was making you hyper focused, stimulating yourself with the crease of his muscles, the scent of his cologne.
“Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night, ma’am?”
He tried to look at the crowd again, but your writhing form and your exploring hands were a little too distracting. You turned away from him, planting your plump arse against his crotch, grinding against him, hoping to feel his cock.
You reached up and looped your hands around his shoulders, digging into the meat of him, finding his bones,
“No, sir, I don’t. I think you should dance with me.”
You must’ve been higher than you thought. As the room pulsed around you, beating at you like a heart, you could have sworn you heard him moan. You whined your hips, trying to make him hard. Then, you went from feeling soft, loose fabric to something else entirely.
Surely…
You rolled around his hip again, just to be certain.
Surely, that monster was his gun and not his dick?
It was your turn to moan, and you did it with abandon. No one could hear you anyway, and the whole club was focused on their own experiences, not on you and your fucking obvious narc.
“Is that you, baby? My God, you are a big boy, aren’t you?”
He didn’t say anything, but he did place a hand on your hip, holding you noncommittally. It was too soft to be a push, but it was firm enough for you to feel his warm hand through the silk of your mini dress.
You grabbed it and brought it up the front of your body, bringing his palm to your breast, letting him feel the tight hardness of your nipple and the unbelievable softness of your flesh.
You heard it again. John had moaned into your ear, you were sure of it. As if to confirm your suspicions, he gave you the most delicate squeeze, and then released you.
You turned back around to find a very different man looking down at you. His eyes were blown, and he was breathing heavily through his nose.
“Don’t you wanna dance with me?” You begged.
Grabbing his fingers in your small hand, you brought them not to your breast but lower this time, under the short hem of your dress. You were still grinding against each other to the relentless beat, and it wasn’t until you tucked his hand all the way down between your legs that you watched his rhythm falter.
His fingers collided with your wet folds, slipping into them easily, and he reached deeper on his own accord, exploring your hole and all of the warm, soaking things it was promising him.
You cried out, planting a kiss to his collarbone, letting him finger fuck you as you grinded into each other, stirring up an intense flood of emotions and feelings, making your high feel like it would carry you to the ends of the earth together.
It was intoxicating to watch him untie himself from the ropes of his duties, and you could feel him humping into you on purpose, now, thrusting over the curve of your belly with his enormous length as he fingered you in the crowded club. The blue and green lights that lasered across his eyes made him look like a demon, snarling and hungry for you and everything you kept secret.
“How about you dance right here?” Price purred.
He took his hand from you and tasted you. Price licked you from his fingers, just like he was flipping the page of a book. Then, he raised up his knee and shoved it, hard, between your legs, giving you something wide and solid to grind on. Instinctively, your hands wrapped around his thigh, or tried to anyway, holding yourself steady.
Your fingertips brushed against the sensitive head of his cock, long enough to have reached your grip, and you gasped. Straddling him was a whole new experience, and your drug-soaked mind was reeling from it. It overwhelmed you, and as you used one hand to palm his cock on the outside of his jeans, you used your other to help rock your hips back and forth across the denim, reveling in the texture.
His head fell back when you touched him with your hand, and you smiled, praising him,
“You feel so damn huge.”
John’s eyes focused back on you in a flash, and you moved together, surging when the beat rose, and collapsing together when it fell, the two of you caught in its current.
He wrapped his huge hands around your waist and held you down on him firmly, keeping your pace for you.
His smile turned sinister as he commanded you,
“Let go. Let me.”
You did as he bade, wrapping the hand that had been steadying you around his hulking shoulder instead. His grip was painfully tight around your body, and his fingertips dug cruelly into your arse cheeks, pressing your wet pussy down into his muscle and bone.
He forced you back and forth along his thigh, picking up speed to match the drum and bass. You felt him stoke and blow at the fire within your core, and you looked up to him with a face you knew was full of your hungry lust.
“Is that what you needed, hm?”
“I need this thick cock, John.”
“Come for me, and I’ll give it to you, darlin’,” he promised darkly, leaning down to growl his words right into your ear.
You sent back a long moan into his, letting him drive your hips and rub your clit against him. You felt the wetness of the denim beneath you, and you knew you were soaking a spot into his pants.
“I’m getting you all wet,” you whined into his neck, licking along his throat just as he was kissing yours, sucking on your sensitive skin.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grunted, ruthless in his pace, “I’ve got you.”
The lights and sounds and colors and smell of him all invaded your mind. It was too much, and it was not enough. Everything was swirling together and you were floating through it, letting it carry you along like a stray leaf down a stream, buoyant and vulnerable.
But, John was there. He anchored you to him, letting your high run you wild while he kept you safe, locked in his hands. The molly was making you emotional, and when you started to come, you weren’t sure if it was from his physical efforts or from his delicate care.
You held onto his cock like a lifeline, stroking him steadily for comfort. It felt so good to press into his swollen head with your palm. He was so warm, like a glowing torch beneath your fingers. You wanted to see it.
You lost the pacing, but he kept it for you, grunting with every push and pull of your body, sounding as if he was coming with you as you tumbled over your peak, whimpering and mewling for him, pliant as a petal in his hands.
“John, please… oh, fuck!”
“I know, baby, I know. I know. I know…” He chanted to you. His voice invaded your mind and the club fell away. It was just you and John in the blackness of your mind.
Under your hand, you felt his cock jump at you, leaping toward you out of the thick cloth that trapped it to his body. Then, you felt a wetness soaking through at his tip, and you rubbed it faster, encouraging him, hoping he would come with you. The wet spot grew, spanning out in a small puddle, staining the fabric darkly.
His teeth were on you then, holding you at your throat, not biting, but not letting go. His cries were a symphony of sound, and they made your entire nervous system light up. You felt incredible as you listened to him coming, ruining his jeans as you ruined them as well, making him look like he’d spilled a drink all over himself in very conspicuous spots.
As he came down, he was laughing, softly, chuckling from sheer disbelief. You’d wrung him out like a cloth, and the ragged sigh that came from his throat told you so.
He helped you off of his knee, careful not to hurt you. He fixed the edge of your dress so that it fell where it meant to, and then he looked down to survey the damage.
You didn’t like the sobering look on his face, and you’d do anything to keep him in your thrall. So, you grabbed his hand and led him out back to where your limo was parked. Pushing through the mass of writhing bodies just made you want to be closer to him.
You asked the driver to take you home, straddling John’s lap on the seat, eager for round two. You heard the privacy screen roll up and you smiled. You found your purse and pulled out your last two pills, sticking both of them in your mouth. Then, you leaned down to kiss him, feeding him one.
He swallowed it, to your surprise.
“I thought you’d protest about being on the clock, baby…” you started to unbutton his shirt, playing with his nipples when you found them, rubbing your fingers through his thick hair.
He kissed you again, a little more chastely this time, and peeked down at his watch,
“It’s 0300, ma’am. I’m a free man.”
“Turn the music up, then,” you said, kissing his neck as he used the remote to turn up the volume, letting your shared high carry you all the way home.
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Okay, listen. Just hear me out for a second, okay. Okay, look… lol 😂 I have been listening to Troye Sivan’s “Rush” all freaking season and every time I listen to it, all I can imagine is gruff, huffy, serious John Price on the dance floor with you as you slowly convince him to let loose and dance-fuck you. I will not be explaining myself further!!! It is burned into my mind. 😂 I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Sorry!!!
#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii#captain john price#cod#captain price#john price#captain price x reader#captain price x you#alternate universe#bodyguard#tw drugs
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My second batch of venture bros genderbends are finally done! :D [first set here]
PLEASE LOOK UNDER THE CUT!!! I made all these nice drawings and doodles of them and I want people to see them without this post being super long! :') [My thoughts on the designs and doodles will be under the cut as well]
Okay NOW I'm going talk about my thought process on some of these:
Baby Rusty: I love the baby Rusty, the frilly socks and sleeves were a must. I actually drew her with the original set of genderbends but I turned off her layer and forgot about her 💀
Jonas Jr: not much to say about her, I tried to make her like Rosie the Riveter. Her little bandana has the Venture logo on it :)
Jonas Sr: I wanted her to be a hot bitch, her outfit is maybe a little scandalous for the time era they were in but I think it fits, canon Jonas is a whore. I think everybody would want her and that every celebrity, politician, and anybody with any power would chase after her so badly.
Blue Morpho: I made her so incredibly slay. I fucking love her outfit, I found the inspo for the outfit on Pinterest but I changed it up a bit. Also her gun has the bayonetta butterfly wings on it as a charm because I HAD TO.
Colonel Gentleman: Not a lot to say, I wanted to give her like horse riding esque boots and I gave her a purple flower cause she likes the ladies. I know generally WLW flowers are Violets and Lavender but I wanted to draw a rose so, Purple rose compromise <3
Dr.Boyfriend 2: With my last round Dr.Boyfriend was the only one people had complaints with. I think people wished he was more Masculine and I agree but if I switched up the design too much it wouldn't look like Dr.Girlfriend. I hope giving him armor and making him look like a knight helped him look more masc. I made the sheer wings cross over his chest to make it look like it was holding up the shoulder armor. Also his guild book is insanely high quality because I was procrastinating drawing his armor.
Goofy and Goober (Watch and Ward): I think they ended up really cute, I tried to make their hair colors close to Doc and Jacksons since I heard they are supposed to be like their "main" self inserts. With Ward I had a really specific idea for her hair, I kept thinking about this haircut from my sims and had to do it. It might be hard to see but her ponytail holders have skull charms on them. I also purposely gave them both some sort of ponytail hairstyle so they would match but be slightly different :) (They are absolutely prank calling or trolling their clients on that phone btw)
Shoreleave: OH MY GOD I LOVE SHORELEAVE. I kept turning her folder back on just to keep looking at her when I was drawing the other characters. She is so captivating to me, she looks so soft and human. I want to take a bite out of her thigh. My biggest inspo for her was Cammy from Street Fighter, I felt like her dressing a bit skimpy works for her since canon Shoreleave kinda does. The girls out for the girls.
Alchemist: I love her design so much too. I wanted her to look like some kind of nun or priestess. She looks like if a Zelda fire temple was a person. I kinda gave her like a weird little hime cut under the hood. Also I put the Triad logo on all three of their designs (+ Triana).
Jefferson: Had a lot of fun with her, I didnt change her design much from canon though so there's not much to say. I did give her more flared pants though. Drawing her hair was a really fun change of pace, I very rarely get to draw textured hair.
College Rusty and Monarch Drawing: I love this one, Monarch turned out so hot dude. You can tell what character I like more LMFAO. I made rusty very obnoxious 80s while keeping the colors of the original college rusty outfit. Monarch kind of looks like postal dude but its fine because shes slay.
Hereditary Venture Family Dinner Drawing: This was one of the first drawings I started but the second to last one I finished. I wanted to draw the family doing something together but I think I really truly just wanted to draw Dermott again. 😭 Nobody has said anything if they noticed but I did give hatred the shirt from these edits. (I believe the one on the left is from reddit and the one on the right is by SquashFold on Twitter)
Dermott piercing Dean's ears drawing: Even though its messy its in the top 3 favorites I did, It was also the last one I did. I just love the idea of Dermott giving goth Dean at home ear piercings. At first I didn't know if I wanted to make Dermott giving her piercings at the mall where she works or at home but the mall idea was too much work for a last minute sketch. Dermott is so mean older sister who shoplifts and works at the mall.
Drug bathroom drawing: Another one of my favorites, its based off a specific deleted scene from Invisible Hand of Fate where Pete and Rusty talk at the bar but Pete comes out of the bathroom sniffling at the start. I love the way I drew Pete pushing the hair out of her face and both of their expressions.
Bdsm 21 drawing: Okay first of all, The little devil Monarch was so cute I was screaming, crying, and throwing up while drawing her. I fucking love her, shes the smallest part of the image but my favorite. I also am quite fond of the bdsm 21.
Quizgirls Pete and Billy: I tried looking up Vanna White dresses to base Pete's outfit off of but I couldn't find one that Pete would actually wear so I just had to make shit up. Billy's design is really basic but the bow in her hair is actually from one of my rejected main Billy genderbends.
Me and The Bestie: I put a lot of effort into this one for no reason. Literally the moment I saw Jonas in the problem machine I thought he should be made of like blue slime. When I was working on this I kept thinking about Momopatchi's Hatsune Microbe drawing so this Jonas was definitely inspired by that. I gave Jonas makeup because she was having a party movie night on gargantua and I felt like she would still have makeup on thats like completely fucked up and deteriorating on her face after many many years. Vendata's outfit was partially based on Marguerite Chapman's from Flight to Mars, never seen it but I was looking up old sci-fi movie costumes to work with and I thought it would look good :)
#venture bros#the venture bros#my art#rusty venture#jonas venture sr#blue morpho#jefferson twilight#alchemist venture bros#colonel gentleman#shoreleave#jonas venture jr#dr.gf#dr. girlfriend#dr mrs the monarch#watch and ward#watch and ward venture bros#the monarch#henchman 21#gary fischer#pete white venture bros#pete white#billy quizboy#dr girlfriend#vbros#billy whalen#vendata#dermott venture bros#dermott fictel#genderbend#genderswap
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I’m on my hands and knees BEGGING you for a stripper au 🙇🙇🙇🙇
Of course!! I've been dying to make one of these!!
Soap should not be here. He's a college professor for fuck's sake. He makes decent money but it's the principle of the things. Why would he go to a strip club when he could go to the bar and actually go home with someone?
But it was what his friends had invited him to do and he went along with it.
He tried not to overthink his clothing or the chances of him seeing any of his students there.
Soap ordered a scotch and tried to find somewhere to sit. It was a mixed club with men and women. It seemed... a little seedy despite the more expensive feeling of the place. Something about the entire thing felt off. He brushed off his feelings, blaming Catholic judgement for it.
Chuy had amassed a group of men and women around him to listen to his cryptid facts. He occasionally passed them money so they were making something but they were also choosing to stay next to him.
Gaz was staring at Chuy, trying to understand how he managed to do that.
Alejandro had disappeared... somewhere.
Soap took a sip of his drink, liking it at least. He doubted it was anything too fancy but it did the job just fine.
Pretty people went past him. Some flirted or tried to get him to take a lap dance, but he wasn't interested. They were nice, but not really his type. Nor did he want to blow a bunch of money just for the sake of it.
Soap found a place to sit where he could watch the stage, trying to see where everyone had disappeared to.
There was someone his type. Tall. Dressed in black. Broad shoulders and burly chest. Makeup all around his eyes. Pretty eyeliner.
The man, Ghost if his name tag meant anything, looked more like a bouncer than a stripper. But he was shirtless with just a mask and tight pants and he was eyeing Soap.
Big doe brown eyes staring into him, silently asking if he wanted his attention.
Soap was very happy there was an ATM nearby. With a confidence that was very much faked, he motioned for him to come over.
Ghost walked over. He didn't bat his eyelashes or immediately straddle him. He just stood between Soap's legs and looked down at him, almost like he inconvenienced him.
Soap put a twenty in Ghost's pocket and that look melted away, replaced with something much nicer.
"You look lonely."
Fucking Brits. Of course he was British. That didn't change that Soap's body had a visceral reaction to his voice.
"It's cause I am. Come to give me some company?"
Ghost laughed at him. It made Soap shrink back and his cheeks flushed. If anything though, it made him a little harder in his jeans. "You're cute. Name?"
Soap looked down his body, admiring the hard muscle and the slightly softer stomach. His hands fidgeted. "Soap."
"You can touch. And my name is Ghost."
Soap was immediately all over him. He'd like to use his mouth but that would be a little much in such a public area.
It would occur to him in exactly six hours that one of the biggest rules about strip clubs is you don't touch the dancer. And that Ghost had not let anyone else touch him that night. That would be in six hours though and right now, he was just marveling at the scarring along Ghost's body.
They were impossible to see with the club lighting, but he could feel them under his fingertips. The texture similar to a scar he had on his hand from dropping a knife.
He squeezed his eyes tight and gripped Ghost's sides. Ghost's hand grabbed his chin and made him look up. Dark eyes inches from his face.
"You alright, love?"
Soap shoved more money into Ghost's hands. "How much for a private dance?"
"I don't usually do those."
Soap must've looked distressed because Ghost, the saint, took pity on him. "Fine. How much do you have?"
"Three hundred dollars."
"I'll give you an hour."
Soap nodded and followed him excitedly. He didn't miss Ghost's amused glance.
The man grabbed the pole, slowly spinning around it as he watched Soap sit down. "You're adorable."
Soap blushed more and dropped his money at Ghost's feet. "Going to lose the mask?"
"You don't want me to. Trust me." Ghost jumped up and spun faster, suspending himself and expose his chest more.
"You ugly under there?"
"Quite the opposite."
"Worried I'll fall in love with you?"
"Absolutely." Ghost spun around slowly and arched his back. "Can't have you following me home, vying for me attention."
Soap felt himself getting hard. His body moved with such fluidity and grace that it was hard to not think of how it would feel to be underneath him. To have Ghost grabbing his hips. Would he prefer to be on top or bottom? He was more than happy either way. As long as those fucking abs were pressed against him, he could live with it.
Ghost crossed over to him and straddled him. He was so much bigger. So much fucking bigger. "Your hands go below my belt and I'll get you banned."
"Yes, sir."
"I like sir."
"Anything you want, sir." Soap smiled at him and put his hands on Ghost's waist. He ground down on him, the pressure against his body making him half crazy. His hips jerked up and Ghost paused, glaring.
"Don't move."
Soap took a deep breath and nodded. Ghost started to move again, letting Soap get a good look on him. It was so easy to imagine less clothing. God, he'd bankrupt himself to have Ghost riding him like this. His pants had slid down to see his v-line.
Soap slid his hands further up and touched his throat. Ghost purred and pressed in harder. "You're a pretty guy, you know that?"
Soap blushed more. "Thank you, sir."
Ghost stood up and trailed his hands between Soap's thighs, so tempting. Was he actually going to?? To touch?? him?? He was hoping for a lot here but his hands were getting so close.
Gaz knocked quickly. "Hey, Johnny, we gotta go. Right now. We're getting kicked out. Alejandro flirted a little too much with his favorite stripper."
Soap felt his heart sink. "Wai-"
Ghost stood up and fixed his pants. "Oh. You're Vargas's friend?"
Soap cringed. "Ah. Is that a bad thing?"
"Get out."
Soap moped the entire night, being extra mean to Alejandro for ruining that for him.
"I think I just missed the love of my life."
"He was a stripper. He just wanted your money." Chuy pointed out. He was currently washing the phone numbers off his arm. All of them were glaring at him.
Soap went to bed and maybe cried a little. Just a little. He refused to be that heartbroken over a guy he met for five minutes. His dick was heartbroken though.
Fucking Vargas.
He couldn't blame him too much. It was Rodolfo he had been flirting with. Those two had been chasing each other for ages and now Alejandro just blew as much money on him as he could until he ran out and Rodolfo kicked him out for it.
Soap crawled out of bed that day and went to work. He passed all of his colleagues, still thinking of those dark eyes and gorgeous body.
"Professor MacTavish." One of his colleagues greeted him as he passed.
Soap froze and turned around. Dark eyes. Gorgeous body. Ginger hair.
Professor Riley, someone Soap barely interacted with, stood there. Cardigan wrapped around him. He wore a medical mask thanks to self proclaimed "hideous" scarring.
"Hi..."
Ghost looked at him. "Yes, MacTavish?"
"I..."
Ghost tilted his head, looking confused. "Something wrong?"
Soap shook his head. "No..."
Ghost nodded and turned away to keep making his tea.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#call of duty modern warfare ii#cod mw2#ghostsoap#cod#soapghost
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