hi I've been possessed by the idea of being hiromi's housewife slut sorry
tw: dd/lg or something
just wanna be higuruma’s dumb little girl, the one he comes home to every night, all stressed out and tense. want him to walk through the door and take his tie off, pull you close for a rough kiss. groans into your mouth as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his dress shirt. it’s been a tough day, you know? but now he’s home with you, you who he can take all his frustrations out on.
strips you to nothing then stretches you open a little too quickly. he still makes sure you’re nice and wet, but the head of his cock slipping into your little hole still makes you hiss.
“sh, sh, be quiet for daddy,” he shushes, making sure you have no choice but to obey when he slips the fingers he just had in your cunt right into your mouth. you drool around them, jaw dropping when he pushes into you the rest of the way, cock so thick and hot in your soft pussy.
he doesn’t even give you time to adjust, just starts fucking into you, grunting about being so stressed all the time, but your little cunt is so perfect, just what he needs to relax. you take him so well, coating him in white cream, sounds of your messy hole ringing in his ears, and it only gets louder, only gets wetter when he plays with your poor swollen clit until you squirt all over him.
“good girl, you’re daddy’s good girl, yeah?”
you nod, eyes bleary with tears ‘cause he feels so good, but it’s all so much. you’re so sensitive as he drives into you, tip of his dick kissing your cervix and making you whimper. the fingers in your mouth massage your tongue, make saliva pool in your mouth and drip from the corners of your lips, and you feel filthy, slick between your legs and now slick all over your face.
but it’s okay. it’s okay ‘cause daddy will take care of you. he’ll make sure your pretty pussy cums over and over again, and once you’re sobbing and choking on his fingertips, he’ll finally get his.
with a full body shudder, hiromi lets himself go, filling you until his thick seed is dripping from your hole. he gives a few more thrusts, watching as it pushes more from your spent body and muttering about how you’re so good for him, such a good girl, did so well, his perfect little cumhole.
The One Where Dwalin is Totally NOT Jealous...
Author's Note: This was request from @i-did-not-mean-to and it took me a while, but here it is!
Summary: Pre-Quest for Erebor:
Dwalin has finally had enough of William (AKA Ol’ Moonface), the final straw being when William makes a pass at Zana right in front of him.
Pairing: Dwalin/Zana (Female OC)
Characters: Dwalin, Dezana (Zana) Ashmane (Female OC), William
Warnings: Table Sex
Word Count: 2,120
Khuzdal Translation: Amrâlimê - My love
Tag List: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm
Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!
Zana sat at the bar with William, going over several work orders and she couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice as she said, “You’ve pushed the end date back by nearly five weeks now. I want this work finished so I can reopen my bloody tavern.”
“Take care, Miss Ashmane. There is no need to be upset,” William replied evenly, his expression neutral. Between his bald head and his perfectly round face, he truly fit Dwalin’s description of Moonface. Dwalin had no use for him, but Zana absolutely needed him, since she had a devil of a time getting any contractors in the Blue Mountains to even speak with her, never mind do business with her. She was of Man, and therefore offered more side-eye than anything else. William was a bit of a weasel, and she couldn’t fault Dwalin for disliking him the way he did, but to his credit, at least the workers talked to him—more or less.
“Don’t tell me to take care. I want this done. My doors have been closed since the storm and that was almost six weeks ago. I’ve had to let go of my staff and—”
“So, why is he here?” William nodded toward the far end of the bar, where Dwalin sat, nursing a tankard of ale and glowering at them.
“He is here because he is with me, as I’m fairly certain I’ve explained before.” She tapped the topmost work order, then gestured to the front windows, which bore wicked spiderweb cracks spanning almost the entire wide of the glass. “Now, tell me where my glass is to repair my cracked windows?”
“I’ve told you, the glazier is—”
“Incompetent,” Dwalin broke in, shaking his head. “As are most the lads ye’ve suggested.”
“I do not believe this is any of your concern, Dwalin.”
Dwalin’s blue eyes narrowed. “That’s Mr. Fundinson to ye, laddie. I dinna give ye permission to use my name.”
Zana rolled her eyes, tapping the parchment again. “The glass?”
“I’ll pay him a visit in the morning and see if I can’t get him to move a bit fast.”
As he spoke, his hand came to rest atop hers, which made her back stiffen, but she bit back the retort tickling her lips. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed William to run the interference needed to get the work done, although he was only slightly quicker than the contractors she needed.
“If you would, I’d be grateful.”
He smiled, his thumb skimming along the back of her hand. “Would you, now? How grateful?”
She tugged her hand free and from the corner of her eye, she saw Dwalin stiffen as well, his eyes mere slits. “I would, yes. Now, if we might…”
“Perhaps we should go and talk about this over supper somewhere?” William swept up the parchment to tuck into his satchel. “Somewhere we won’t be overheard.”
“I think we’ve discussed it all we need to,” she told him. “I have no desire to keep discussing unless I see results and so far, I haven’t.”
“Oh, these things take time, Miss Ashmane.”
“Too much time,” Dwalin grumbled as he climbed down from his barstool and came around to grab William by the upper arm. “We’re done here, Moonface.”
“What—what’re you—let go of me!” William sputtered as Dwalin dragged him off the stool and across the sloped pine floor toward the front door.
“Gladly,” Dwalin grunted, then actually lifted William from his feet to toss him out the door, where he landed in the street with a thud loud enough for her to hear, then he jerked the door shut behind him.
“Dwalin! What are you—you threw him out!”
“Aye, I did and I’ll do it again if I see him pokin’ his nose around ye that way again. Only, I might break him over my knee first.”
“Poking his… are you mad?” She had to jump down from the stool because she was too short to just ease off the way both men could. “I need his help, Dwalin! You cannot just go around tossing people from this tavern.”
At his long look, she amended her statement. “Tossing sober people who aren’t doing anything wrong from this tavern. You knew what I meant.”
“Isn’t doin’ anything wrong? He was coming on to ye, right in front of me. Laddie’s lookin’ to die and I wouldna mind helping him out a bit.”
“This is what I mean! You cannot keep doing this. He is helping me get the work done that this place needs so I can open the doors again. How am I to do that, if you keep throwing him out of here? Besides, he knows I’m with you. I’ve made that very clear.”
“So, he’s none too smart in addition to being mostly useless. I shoulda thrown him harder.”
“You shouldn’t have thrown him at all, Dwalin!”
“I regret nothing. He doesn’t care about helping ye. He’s tryin’ to woo you.”
“Trying to woo—do you hear yourself? That is insane.”
“Is it? He touches ye every chance he gets and ye don’t seem to mind much, either.”
“I don’t seem to mind…” She shook her head as she crouched to scoop up the scattered papers that fell out of William’s satchel when Dwalin grabbed him. “I just want my tavern opened and I am not having much luck on my own.”
“So let me deal with the contractors.”
“And have you hitting or throwing everyone who dared put a foot wrong?” She gave him a long look. “I don’t think so.”
“Why? Do ye honestly think I will hit ’em? Have ye seen me hit anyone?”
She paused. “You dragged him bodily out of here and tossed him into the bloody street!”
“He had it coming. Puttin’ his hand on ye. He’s lucky I didn’t lay him out flat right here.”
“You are mad sometimes. Do you even hear yourself?”
“Yer mine and no one touches what is mine.”
“I’m what?” She glared at him.
He glared right back. “Ye know what I mean.”
“I’m yours? As in, you own me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No! Do I look daft?” He caught her around the waist. “But ye don’t see what he sees when ye look at ye.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means, he wants to get ye into bed. And I am no’ sharin’ ye.”
As he spoke, he brought his free arm about her waist as well, and tugged her up against him. “And if that means I throw a man bodily out of here, so be it. I can do what he does. And,” he added before she could say anything, “wi’out hittin’ anyone.”
Her irritation drained as she let her hands come to rest on his shoulders. The thick bands of muscle across his shoulders was still tense, there were still hints of anger in his blue eyes, but at the same time, she had to admit, there was something about seeing him so quick to defend her. “You are mad.”
“No, I’m not.” He bent to her, brushed her lips with his. Then he did it again, harder this time.
And that was it. She let her fingers graze his nape, smiling as he shivered against her. “Oh, amrâlimê,” he growled, his voice low and husky, “ye have no idea what ye do to a man. No idea a’tall.”
“And what’s that I do?”
He lifted her easily, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “If he knew ye the way I do? He’d be thanking Mahal for making him a man, love.”
“I think that is an exaggeration, dwarf.”
“Oh, no…” He set her on the nearest table, clasped her by the hips, and pulled her hard against him. “As I said, ye have no idea…”
He bent toward her, capturing her lips with his, and she melted against him, winding her arms about his neck to pull him as flush against her as possible. His kiss came gentle at first, but intensified. She parted her lips, her fingers curling into the back of his rough-hewn henley to tug when his tongue swept along hers.
Heat spilled thorough her as he moved down along her neck, his fingers almost frenzied as they caught the bottom of her tunic to shove up. She didn’t try to stop him, but lifted herself just enough for him to whisk it over her head, and then she pulled him back to her.
Her own fingers were just as hurried, twisting harder in his henley, inching it up as he kissed his way down along the inner curve of her left breast. Her back arched, her teeth clamping about her bottom lip as he caught her nipple to tease. It was all so primal, the way his hands moved over her, the way his lips, his tongue, claimed her, and it sparked something inside her that made her want him just as badly.
She tugged, whisking his henley over his head finally, and let it drop to the floor behind her, her fingernails raking along his back, his shoulders, as he moved down, smoking a trail of kisses along her belly. His thumbs hooked in the waist of her leggings and the breeze came warm upon her skin as he wrestled them off.
“Dwalin!” Her hoarse cry echoed off the walls as he sank to his knees, draped her legs over his shoulders, and bent to her. His breath came warm upon her sensitive skin, his tongue soft and gentle as everything inside her began to heat up. Knots, tight and sweet, twisted within her, rendering her senseless as pleasure swamped her. He knew exactly where to touch, where to caress, and how rough or gentle to be and with the first brilliant flash, she arched her back, her fingernails scrabbling across the polished, albeit scratched and scuffed wood beneath her as he brought her to that amazing peak.
Her climax came hot and hard and left her writhing beneath him, and when he pressed a kiss into her inner thigh, she was fairly certain she actually purred. Then, he came up and a second later, he was inside her, arching hard and growling, “Oh, amrâlimê… what ye do to me…” as he offered up a hard thrust.
She melted around him, her legs curling about his waist as he fell into a hard, driving rhythm. The table was the perfect height, and with each thrust, she melted around him a little more. Harder and harder he surged into her. She trembled, her head spinning, dragging her fingernails up toward his shoulders, her voice little more than a husky whisper as he arched hard, went rigid, and growled, “Zana…”
He slowed, sinking against her, fighting for air, his head coming to rest against her breast. With a trembling hand, she let her fingers skim along his hair, surprising soft and silky. “Oh, my…” she whispered, her heartbeat slowing back to normal. “Oh, love… that was… what brought this on?”
“That’s what you do to a man,” came his whispered response, followed by a tender kiss sweeping over the inner curve of that breast.
He lifted his head and gazed at her with heavy-lidded blue eyes. She reached down to trace her fingertip along the flow of his beard. “I love you, you jealous fool.”
He managed a smile. “I am not jealous of ol’ Moonface. He’s not the one here, with bloody scratches down his back.”
“Oh, are you complaining?”
“Do I look tha’ dumb?” He straightened with a wince, then caught her by the hand to draw her up as well. As she leaned in and pressed a kiss against his chest, he wrapped his arms about her and whispered, “I love you, too, Zana.”
“And you are lucky this table held me up. The last thing I need is to start replacing those as well.”
He grinned, kissing the top of her head. “It woulda been absolutely worth the sacrifice.”
It would have been, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Just like she wasn’t about to complain about his jealous streak. Sometimes, she didn’t mind the feral side of him so much, and this was definitely one of those times.
“I need to get back to work, love,” she told him.
He gazed down at her and her stomach tightened at the glint in his blue eyes. “Ye know, I think ye can take the rest of the day off, amrâlimê. There’s a few tables here I want to test out first.”