#tan hands and tan lines prompt
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it's your turn for choosing
this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!
getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts
joel miller x reader
summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k
a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.
___
7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked.
The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed.
You’ve only been open for two hours.
Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.
Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it.
You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.
The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns.
Your coffee shop.
It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.
The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it.
You even love it, some days.
And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works.
You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.
“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure.
Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand.
You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.
“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”
You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.
The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him.
He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.
The guy looks tired.
Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter.
“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember.
“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”
“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.
DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint.
“Three options.”
Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.
“Can I get you one of those three options?”
You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.
“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”
“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”
He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.
“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.
You hand him the cup and your fingers brush.
“You have no idea.”
He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.
You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.
Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer.
__
You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks.
Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.
Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on.
“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize.
“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.
“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.
“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”
She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.
“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question.
You laugh. Joel looks pleased.
“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”
“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”
He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.
“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.
“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders.
The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.
“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”
If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot.
“What the hell was what?”
She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.
“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”
You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.
You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.
“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”
“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”
“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”
“Milk.”
Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee.
Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.
And if you have a crush on him?
No harm done. He’s nice to look at.
And he tips well.
__
Joel stops by again.
And again.
And again.
He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron.
All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting.
Maybe he’s just being polite.
Also, he keeps overpaying.
One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning. When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.
The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.
“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped.
“I’m honored,” he says.
You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window.
“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”
He snorts and hands you his cash.
“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”
He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.
“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask.
He smirks. “Miss me?”
You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy.
“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”
Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck.
“Reckon that’s the tip.”
“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”
Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.
“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”
“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”
There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.
You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy.
“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise.
Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one.
“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”
“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.
Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw.
“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear.
“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him.
Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone.
“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”
Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.
She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.
You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.
“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”
Joel talks over her.
“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”
Ellie huffs.
“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”
“Good.”
You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place.
“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.
“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”
“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says.
She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”
“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”
Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”
He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.
“I bet they’re real good.”
Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”
You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day.
“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.
Joel winces. Ellie gags.
“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”
“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”
“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”
“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”
They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.
It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is.
It makes you want to know more.
You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.
“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”
She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.
“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”
She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.
“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”
Joel clears his throat.
“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.
You suppose it is.
“You’re welcome, as always.”
Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles.
They both wave at you as they drive away.
__
Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.
You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.
You want him.
Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.
It’s you who is distracted.
One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.
Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb.
You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.
He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.
“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.
“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.
“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”
Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing.
“I think so, just hold on a sec.”
“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work.
You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.
“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”
“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.
He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.
“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”
You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.
“How can I help you?”
A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.
“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”
You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”
“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”
You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”
“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”
“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”
He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”
You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”
“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”
“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”
Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk.
“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”
It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one.
But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.
“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.
“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus.
“He might be here for something else, too -”
“Go refill the ice.”
He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”
__
7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked.
The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering.
Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.
You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.
A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you.
And you still barely know him. But you want to.
Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.
You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime?
It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back.
Sweetheart.
Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.
The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.
Joel, it seems, is one.
You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.
“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back.
You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.
“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”
“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”
“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.
And wait.
And wait.
The rain stops.
You’re still waiting, phone silent.
Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.
“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.”
You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.
You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.
A door slams but you don’t turn around.
“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”
“Shame,” he says.
You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”
He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”
You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.
“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.
He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.
Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.
“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually.
The words don’t totally register. “What?”
He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.
“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.
“Oh – you, you didn’t see?”
He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”
“Right.”
You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.
But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.
Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.
You turn around.
“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?
He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –
“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”
Oh.
He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.
“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.
“Well, you gonna ask again?”
You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.
“Are you going to say yes?”
“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”
“So you could read the cup?”
Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting.
“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”
“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”
Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.
“I do,” he says.
It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.
His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.
You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables.
“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”
You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”
“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate.
“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”
Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”
“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.
“Thanks,” you breathe.
He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel.
Joel Miller likes you.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.
His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.
“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”
Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”
“You’re very lucky,” you say.
“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.
His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light.
Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.
“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
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Top-Notch
written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: top | wc: 510 | rated: E | cw: none | additional tags: no Upside Down/modern AU, top Eddie/bottom Steve, praise kink
“Keep the change,” Eddie says, sliding double what he owes across the bar. “Top-notch service, sweetheart.”
One of the perks of being a rich rockstar: he can tip as much as he damn well pleases (and, in the case of the handsome bartender working the practically empty hotel bar, who’s been flirting with him unceasingly, Eddie damn well pleases to tip a lot).
The bartender, Steve, reaches out and takes the money without once taking his eyes off of Eddie. “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” he asks, and there’s really no mistaking his tone, or the way his tongue darts out to wet soft, pink lips. “If I really wanted to go above and beyond?”
“Well…” Eddie draws it out, like he really has to think about it. “I think I could use a little help turning down the sheets. The bed in my room is awfully big.”
It’s a terrible line, but Steve just smiles and tells him, “I’m off at midnight.”
-
Steve is perfect. Better than anything Eddie could have imagined, bitchy and bossy and beautiful, sitting in Eddie’s lap and riding his cock like he was born for it.
He’s all tan skin stretched over lean muscle, dusted with hair and dotted liberally with moles and freckles, powerful thighs and a perfect, round ass that Eddie’s hands have been glued to practically since his underwear came off.
“That’s it, baby,” Eddie rasps, thrusting up hard to hear Steve moan. “Doing so good.”
Steve lets out another noise at that, something almost like a whimper, and Eddie grins.
“You like that?” he asks, punctuating the question with a little squeeze to Steve’s ass. “You like it when I tell you what a good job you’re doing?”
Almost hesitantly, Steve nods, and Eddie is sure to reward him.
“Do you want to hear how pretty you are, how perfect, fucking yourself on my cock?”
“Oh, fuck,” Steve groans, hands clenching where he’s braced against Eddie’s chest.
“You take it like a dream, Steve,” Eddie croons, thrusting up to meet him on every downward stroke, aiming for that spot he’d found earlier with just his fingers buried inside of Steve, the spot that had made him sing. “Fucking mesmerizing, such a good fucking boy.”
He knows he’s struck gold when Steve cries out, head thrown back and showing off the arch of his throat as he works himself down faster, trying to keep Eddie right where it feels best.
“Eddie,” Steve begs, “fucking touch me.”
Eddie can’t do anything but oblige, wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock and tugging him until he comes hot across Eddie’s belly, and then Eddie can’t do anything but follow, still pressed up deep inside of him, filling the condom with a groan.
“So?” Steve asks, some minutes later as he lies beside Eddie, still catching his breath. “How was my service?”
Eddie’s head falls back against the pillow with a laugh. “Five out of five stars, sweetheart. Gonna write you the best fucking Yelp review you’ve ever had.”
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🌱Pose🌱
Tags: Multiple Creampies, Mind-Break, Submissive Seulgi, Bratty Seulgi
*Snap*
“C’mon babe… please?”
“Not now! I need to finish this, okay?”
*Snap*
“We’ve been taking photos all fucking morning, what did your manager say anyways?”
“Here here, i’ll kneel beside the stool. Make sure you get the bag in the frame alright?”
*Snap*
“I’m not your fucking photographer babe, and you promised we’d, you know…”
“L-later! Let’s take more photos, I promised manager-unnie i’d get a lot for this promotion. I don’t want her to get mad at me okay?”
*SLAM*
“B-babe? Babe?!”
Stomping towards Seulgi, you throw the camera to the studio couch. She lies on the floor, tanned arms still balanced on the wooden stool, creamy legs spread out beneath her in a vulnerable, provocative pose. You’re so pent up, so fucking horny for her. That dress was already bad enough, black fabric perfectly hugging both fuckable thighs and perky breasts. But once she started posing? Once she started refusing you the very thing you’ve been asking for all morning, while focused on sticking her ass out like a whore for the camera? Forget her manager, you’re the angry one now.
You grab Seulgi’s arms, pulling her up, and pushing her face into the wall. “I’m done asking. You’re my girlfriend. You know what that means.” you growl, squeezing her arms as you pin them above her head. Your hard-on rubs between her ass cheeks, acting as another point of delicious pressure to push Seulgi into the cold, hard surface.
“S-stop! Babe! This isn’t… funny!” Seulgi squirms, her toned body trying to squeeze out of your grip. All you feel is softness. Delicious tension laces her skin in her escape attempt. Dainty shoulders. Shaking breasts. Gyrating Hips. Writhing thighs. They all serve to only increase your arousal, to push your leaking rod against Seulgi’s ass, and soak the fabric that separates you from your prize.
*Zip*
“No panties, huh? Good girl.” Keeping one hand to secure Seulgi’s wrists, you use the other to line your cock up with her pussy lips. As your tip touches her labia, you feel a sticky substance coat your head. She’s dripping, she’s into this.
“S-stop, b-babe, we need to S-SHOOT! AGH!” Seulgi moans as you push, hilting your member inside of her with one aggressive stroke. Normally, you’d let her savor it, let her feel every ridge of your big, dominating cock. Let her drip all over you before you move. But today, you’re angry, today, you’re going to break her.
*Slap* *Slap *Slap*
Seulgi’s muffled moans echo throughout the small studio. Her cheek is pushed up against the wall, dress bunched up around her hips as you piston your cock into her.
Her eyes widen with a particularly deep thrust, “S-slow down, please, too… b-BIG! UGH!” Seulgi keeps her legs together, allowing you to use your rod to push into the wet space between her thighs, to slam her into the wall again, and again, and again.
“I. Don’t. Care.” You growl, prompting a moan from the girl as you slide a strap of her dress down her left shoulder. Seulgi keeps on squirming, but it’s futile. Your hand tightens around her wrists, and with every twist of her body against yours, you get more and more aggressive.
The stench of sex quickly fills up the small studio, and the addictive slapping of Seulgi’s ass against your crotch only spurs you on. You swipe brown hair over her shoulder, leaning down to suck on the back of your mate’s neck as you take her. “Mmm. Tense. You’re too tense babe” you mumble, nibbling on her soft skin as she groans in frustration. Seulgi hates being off schedule, hates making a bad impression at work, and your little morning escapade would set her back at least the rest of the day. It shows in the firmness of her skin while you suck, in the incessant, bratty squirming of her body, trying to slip out from under you.
“AGH! Stop… stop… AGH!” She begs, turning her head and looking at you with pleading eyes. If you hadn’t been with her for so long, you might actually stop, actually pull your cock out from between Seulgi’s sultry legs, and apologize to the top idol. But she’s your girlfriend. Your woman. Your slut.
It’s time to remind her.
*THUD*
Sucking up your breath, you slam Seulgi against the wall, letting her wrists free as you buck into her with a frenzied, animalistic pace. “B-babe, stop! You’re gonna… break… me, FUCK!” Your girlfriend looks back, the beautiful arch of her lower back, still covered by soaked fabric, making the perfect grip for one of your hands. As your fingers dig into her exposed skin, massaging the tightness out of her hips, she moves a hand up to cover her mouth, moans leaking out of her upper lips, and slick squeezing out of her lower ones.
*THUD*
“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re just a slut, my slut, my woman, understand?” You snarl, feeling Seulgi shiver beneath as you push her cheek against the wall. She’s starting to loosen up, the pressure of her hips trying to push you away slowly fading. Her upper body however, still needs convincing. Her creamy shoulders push against your mouth as you kiss along her nape, sweat from her futile resistance almost comical at this point. She’s like a broodmare, begging to be tamed, trying to throw off her mate one last time before she is mounted, before she is owned.
You smile, nose sucking up the scent of your mate. Time to mark her.
*THUD* *THUD**THUD*
“B-babe, not here, i’ll break, i’ll…” Seulgi begs. She can feel it. The dull throb of your cock inside her walls, the tightening of your grip on her hips. While she begs, she her hips push back against you a little bit more, her legs spread a few more inches. You smile. Deep down, she wants it. Deep down, she’s ready.
Your thrusts get more rampant, Seulgi’s hand quickly dropping from her mouth as she screams. You hunch over her, husky breaths filling the soft skin of her earlobe, “Shut up. I’m going to cum in you, slut. You’ve left daddy waiting for far too long.” For a moment, Seulgi looks back, wide eyes begging for you to stop, to keep her in her dignified, upright, hardworking form. Your girlfriend, bent over, begging you to stop?
It’s enough to make a man explode.
“FUCK! TAKE IT!”
“No… NO!! F-fuck! D-daddy!”
Seulgi’s eyes shoot open as you push her against the wall, soft breasts between your rough fingers as you thrust up into her, pinning the woman into the hard surface as she is filled. Hot, virile seed fills her pussy, and you feel her cum, hard. Her walls grasp around you, the wet appendage sucking up her partner’s cum, accepting it lovingly like a proper girlfriend would.
“It.. it’s so much… UGH!” Seulgi throws her head back, her mouth, previously set into an “o”, slowly melting into a satisfied smile.
You grin, turning her head to kiss her, your hips still spearing into the prone woman. “Attagirl… see? That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“Mmm… mhm… d-daddy?” She looks back at you, a glazed expression painting her face. Gone is the camera-hungry Seulgi, always worried about the quality of her work. Gone is the veteran idol, always ready to lug you around to her next schedule. Gone is the reluctant girlfriend, always forgetting who’s occkslut she is, who she’s supposed to spread her legs for.
Here is your slut. Your woman. Your mate, staring into your eyes, lips opening in torrid request.
“M-more… please”
“Mmph!”
Seulgi crashes unto the floor, her sweaty back leaving marks on the gray cement. You kiss her. Hard. “Fuck yes baby, mine, you’re MINE!” You mumble into the kiss, feeling her red lips curve up into a smile as she sticks her mouth into your own. This is what you’ve been waiting for, for Seulgi to break, for your hot, slushing cum inside her pussy to remind the girl who she belongs to, who she’s meant to serve.
“Daddy… Mmm” Seulgi mewls, feeling your quick hands rip her dress off. The black fabric crumbles quickly under your fingers, silky satin replaced with toned, tanned skin as your woman is left naked before you. Sitting up with a hand on your cock, you smile at the sight. Perky, medium sized breasts. Tight hips. A pink pussy. And long, creamy thighs. Seulgi’s hair fans around her, and the idol’s eyes meet yours as she bites her lip in anticipation.
She’s beautiful.
She’s yours.
“Fuck me… F-fuck me… Daddy… DADDY! UGH!” Seulgi’s scream fills the room as you bottom out inside of her, the girl’s long legs wrapping around your hips as she is entered. Your thrusts are long, slow, and ravenous. In the morning light, Seulgi’s squirming almost looks like a lioness stretching, sweat shining on her midriff as she is taken by her mate.
“AH- AH- AGH! Y-yes! I’m yours! I’m sorry… daddy! Please…” Her head whips around as she apologizes, hips raising up to meet your thrusts in remorseful lust. You break into a grin, and Seulgi’s walls convulse around your cock as you spear into her core, owning her, claiming her, mating her. There’s something utterly gratifying about seeing your girlfriend like this, seeing her drop the hardened exterior of a busy, focused idol, and surrender herself fully to the pleasure of sex.
You hunch down, quickly sealing your lips on a pert nipple. “That’s right, lift your ass up babe, just like that, mmm, good girl.” You egg Seulgi on, your slut craning her neck against the cold concrete as her ass pushes against your crotch. It’s an offering. The taste of sweat as you suck on her nipples. The feeling of her walls, now slick in arousal, dripping around your rod. The smell of dirty, filthy squirt permeating your nose. An offering you’re glad to reward.
“F-FUCK! YES!” A roar exits your mouth as your balls slap against Seulgi’s buttcheeks. Plastering her lithe body to the ground, you can feel her writhe against you as you cum. The girl’s head is behind yours now, and you watch as her eyes roll up into her head, tongue lolling out to lick at your ear as you seed her. Your lioness. Mated. Grateful. Happy.
As the last spurts of your cum are deposited into her walls, you whisper into her ear, “Good girl… good girl Seulgi” She’s so warm, so sweaty, so filthy. Strands of hair stick to her forehead as she pants, and you can feel toned abs shift beneath you, the girl trying to keep your softening member inside of her.
“Daddy… no, don’t leave…” Seulgi tries to kiss up your chest. You slowly draw your cock out of the mewling girl, the head sensitive as pussy lips, leaking your cum, still try to hold onto it. You look at the mess you’ve left. A puddle of squirt on the floor. A sweat stained Seulgi, legs open as you kneel in front of her. A fitting scene for a morning photoshoot.
Oh yeah. The photoshoot! You still need to process the photos, fix the edits, give that damn manager a reason to keep you at Seulgi’s side. Your cock hangs limp in front of Seulgi’s face as you stand up, mood already soured thinking about obligations that don’t have to do with fucking your now submissive girlfriend.
“Seul, where did your manager ask us to go for the next photoshoot again? I forgot the place, but it shouldn’t be too-”
*Slurp* *Suck*
Seulgi lies on her knees, legs spread as she runs a soft, wet tongue over your cum stained shaft. A hand lies between her thighs, furiously massaging her slit as she smiles, kissing all over your length. She’s still ready for more? After how much you’ve came in her?
“Daddy… screw the schedule, I don’t want to pose for anyone else.” Seulgi gives your cock a kiss, and you shiver at the loss of her soft, warm lips. Still shocked, you can only watch as she lies down, spreading the mix of cum and squirt on the floor, moistened tits pushed flat against the concrete. You lick your lips. Seulgi’s delicious body. Taste it. Feel it. Fuck it.
She looks back at you with a sultry, submissive gaze. “Ruin me, your girl wants her man’s cock, daddy.”
Moans fill the room as you kneel behind Seulgi, spreading open her legs to mount her in an aggressive pronebone. “Say it. Whose cock do you love, WHO?” You huskily growl into your girlfriend’s ear, her cum filled walls flexing around you as she is plastered onto the floor. You’ve been waiting for this, waiting for her to make the first move, to initiate your little mating ritual. Even after all the earlier debauchery, your cock throbs harder inside Seulgi’s pussy, your earlier releases scraped out of her walls with every dominating thrust.
“Y-yours daddy! AGH! Yours! Only… UGH! YOURS!” Seulgi screams as you pull her up, wrapping a hand around soft brown hair to leash your little pet. Compared to earlier, where all you felt was the squirming of her wet body under your own, she’s all the more receptive, all the more compliant for her fucking. Your lips seal around her neck, and you can feel earlier marks you’ve left on your girlfriend in every sweaty ridge you lick.
You let Seulgi lay on her forearms, rough hands gripping red hips as you give her a final warning, a final prelude to your biggest release yet. “That’s fucking right, now spread those legs, bitch”
“Y-yes, daddy, I wi-”
*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*
Your balls slap against Seulgi’s bubby ass as your cock reams her open. She’s not a lioness anymore, not even a girlfriend, just your obedient, screaming, fucktoy. Sweat drips down the beautiful arch of her toned back as you fuck her, and she leans up to try and kiss your neck while you hunch over your mate.
“Yes… Yes! YES! I’m-FUCK! Yours!” Seulgi kisses your ear, the extra stimulation only serving to urge you on towards your inevitable explosion. Who would’ve thought. Red Velvet’s Seulgi. The most proud, courteous, dignified member of the group. Naked in a puddle of cum and slick, thighs planted on the floor as she begs for you to mate her one last, glorious time.
“I’m gonna cum, Seulgi” You warn. Self control has gotten hazy over the last few seconds, sweat stinging your eyes as you exert yourself to the maximum. Seulgi’s body is addicting. Every thrust sending you closer and closer, every twitch of her tight, obedient pussy a silent begging for her man’s seed.
Seulgi looks back, hair swinging out of your grasp, and half lidded eyes meet yours in a pleading whisper, “Cum in me… I need it… I need daddy’s seed…”
“FUCK! YES!”
A torrent of cum explodes out of your rod, veins throbbing in ecstasy, balls shaking in joy as you deliver your last payload. Seulgi’s eyes shoot open, and she cranes her neck in a throaty moan of submission. You can feel her thighs ripple, silky legs kicking, her body with nowhere to release the energy of her intense orgasm. In this position, your girlfriend is nothing but a mount for you to cum into, a fuckable, sexy pet, stuck to the floor, forced to obediently receive your seed.
Eventually, you pull out. “Yes, cum… cum…” Seulgi chants, her wet cheek against the floor, legs still spread, calves still folded upwards while your white seed drips out of pink pussy lips. She’s a work of art, ruined, frozen in the position of her ultimate domination. You like her more this way, love her, more this way, and you grin in satisfaction.
“You know what babe? That might be my favorite pose yet.”
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Blue Bunny
prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 4.4k+
warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname, Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.
"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"
"The pink's rather nice."
"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"
Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.
"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.
"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."
"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.
"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"
"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.
"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"
"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.
You blew on your nails, admiring the color.
Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.
"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.
"I'm here," you smiled.
"Right, what color did you go with?"
You grinned, "Take a guess."
"Blue's your color."
"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."
He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."
"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"
"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"
"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."
"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"
"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."
"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"
"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."
"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"
You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."
"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"
"Collette's doing my nails."
"Ah, very good. What color?"
"A pretty pale blue."
"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."
You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."
"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."
"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."
"One of our associates is late on payment."
"How late?"
"A week."
"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"
"I'm stuck in Prague."
"Daddy."
"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."
"Who's the associate?"
"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."
"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"
"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."
"How much is the debt?"
"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."
"US dollars?"
"Yeah."
"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.
"Not the question I think you want to be asking."
"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"
"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."
"I'd rather take Samuel."
"No, he's doing a different favor for me."
"Daddy."
"He's making a delivery, all right?"
"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."
"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."
"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."
"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."
You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"
"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."
You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"
"Tell him what?"
"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."
You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.
"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"
You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.
"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.
Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.
Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.
Gunther checked the rest of the house.
"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."
"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.
"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."
"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "
"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."
"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.
"Up, up," you demanded.
Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."
"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.
"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."
"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "
Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.
"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."
"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.
"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.
"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.
"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.
Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.
"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"
"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"
"Collecting debt payment."
"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."
Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"
"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"
"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"
"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.
His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"
"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"
"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."
"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"
"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"
"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.
"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"
You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "
"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.
" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"
"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.
"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."
"I-I can explain, please - "
"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."
"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."
You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."
"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"
"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."
"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"
"Priceless," you nodded.
"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"
"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."
Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"
You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."
"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "
"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"
"Fucking do it, Dad!"
"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"
"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"
"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.
"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."
You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"
Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"
"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"
You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"
"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"
"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"
"I don't have it! Please!"
"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"
"Please - "
"You want a dead son!?"
"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"
You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."
"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.
You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."
Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.
"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.
Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.
"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."
"Like it?"
"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."
"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"
"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"
"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"
"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.
"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"
"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"
"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"
"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"
"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.
"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."
Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.
"Watch your tone."
"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "
"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.
"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.
"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.
"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.
"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.
"Yeh all right, Bunny?"
"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"
You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"
"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."
"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"
Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"
"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.
Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.
Call it morality.
Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."
He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."
"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."
"What happened?"
You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."
"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.
"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.
"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "
"That's my girl!"
" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "
"WHAT!?"
"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."
"Did you say contractors?"
"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"
"You mean hitmen?"
"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."
"Who? Who exactly was there?"
"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"
"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."
"What?"
"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"
"Daddy."
"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"
"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.
"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"
"Not entirely."
"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.
"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."
"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.
"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."
You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."
"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."
Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
#tangerine#bullet train tangerine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine x reader#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x you#tangerine imagine#tangerine atj#atj tangerine#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x oc#bullet train#bullet train movie#bullet train 2022#bullet train x reader#aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader#aaron taylor johnson x reader#aaron taylor johnson#aaron taylor johnson character#atj#atj character#atj x fem!reader#atj x reader
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Delay|| alexia putellas x reader
prompt: Flight cancellation isn’t ideal, especially when you had been teasing Alexia all day.
warnings: mdni 18+ only, smut with basically no plot. dom!Alexia, sub!reader, fingering, strap-ons, praise kink, dirty talk, choking, orgasm denial
“On your knees, clothes off,” she demanded when the two of you entered the rented hotel room for the night. Her patience had run out. All day you had been teasing Alexia in hopes that when you landed in Cancun, she would fuck you senseless on the private beach you two had rented. But unfortunately your flight had been cancelled and rescheduled for tomorrow morning, and you knew you weren’t going to get off the hook that easy.
The heated look in Alexia’s eyes tells you that you are in trouble, you had gone too far, adrenaline surges through your body. You feel a pulse between your legs.
Quickly following her direct instructions, stripping down to nothing and knelt, not wanting to make her any madder than she already seemed to be. You had been disobedient and put yourself in this situation, and it was up to Alexia to put you back in your place.
Alexia shuffled around her bag, looking for the new toy she had excitedly brought in hopes to test it out on vacation. It was thicker and longer than a few of the other ones the both of you had grown accustomed to. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt and stepped out of her pants as you watched, she placed the harness on and made her way back towards you. Your skin heats up and your cheeks are burning, the strap now within mere inches of your face seemed, no you knew it was much bigger than you were used too.
“You naughty girl. You thought you could tease me all day and get away with it?” she growled out. Alexia’s dark eyes only turned you on more. The dark light in the hotel room accentuated Alexia's defined core muscles and tan skin.
Her jaw was clenched, you could tell she was pissed. Pissed with the way you flirted with the TSA worker within earshot of her. Pissed at the way you absentmindedly sought any way to touch the midfielder, running your fingers dangerously higher and higher on her thigh as you waited to board.
“You’re going to take every inch of it in your pretty little mouth. Be a good girl for me and I will think about rewarding you after.” It wasn’t every day that you pushed your dominant’s buttons, a usually well behaved good submissive girl for the brunette. She lightly brushed your cheek, a quick head nod told you to begin.
A pleased hum left the midfielder’s mouth as you spit and began taking the tip into your mouth. Using your tongue to trace imaginary lines up and down, never breaking eye contact. She watched completely mesmerized as you hollow out your cheeks every so often to feel each and every groove of the silicone. Taking matters into her own hands, Alexia’s short and slow strokes turned long and quick, intertwining her long fingers in your hair and grabbing a chunk to guide your mouth as she fucked your throat.
“Just like that, good girl,” cupping your chin to guide the strap into your mouth as spit dribbles down the corners of your lips.
“Taking all of it like such a filthy slut,” with each quick thrust she was hitting the back of your throat forcing you to gag and tears to swell into your eyes.
You were a gagging, sputtering mess. A long line of spit connected your now puffy red lips to the strap. Your eyes widened and glossed over as you looked at Alexia’s half-lidded gaze from how deep her cock hits the back of your throat.
Your knees were sore from the rough hotel carpet and your jaw ached from the way it was slacked open as wide as you could manage, but still you continued. Tonight did not seem like the night to disobey the midfielder or piss her off more than you already had. Alexia pulled out of your mouth in one quick motion and threw your body as if you weighed nothing onto the bed. You watched her carefully crawl towards your body beneath her.
“You love it when I use your holes hmm.”
She quickly spreads your thighs roughly wide open, leaving you completely spread open for the Spaniard. She buried her pointer finger first deep inside your glistening cunt as she was met with no resistance. You were dripping waiting for Alexia to finally fill you up. A string of needy moans left your mouth.
“So fucking ready for me baby. Look at how wet you are,” gathering your slick arousal. Alexia’s other arm wrapped around your waist as she increased her pace, fucking you faster and harder into the mattress. Stretching you out with each stroke, skillfully curling her fingers upwards.
“Oh fuck,” whimpering out as your legs shook and you could begin to feel the small coil in your lower abdomen and your muscles tighten. The only sounds in the hotel room were the needy moans leaving your mouth and the pumping of Alexia's fingers pumping into you.
Your breathing quickly began ragged and uneven, hoping to feel a release soon. Alexia uses her palm to lightly graze your clit every so often forcing your back to arch higher off the bed. She worked you up with two fingers, eventually adding the third.
“There you go pretty girl, taking my fingers like a slut,” as you clenched around the now four long fingers in your cunt. Using her thumb to flick your swollen bud.
Your body was pulsating with each pound Alexia took. Her biceps bulged and you could see every muscle in her core was tense. Alexia’s larger frame on top of yours made you feel minuscule under her as she used your body like a toy.
She was nearly knuckles deep when she begins to use her tongue to attack your clit as your hips buck upwards into her face. You writhed under her, using your hands to grip the satin white sheets on the bed to gain some sort of control over the ache between your thighs.
“Please let me come,” you panted out, not sure how much longer you would be able to last. All of a sudden, Alexia pulled out of you completely right as you were chasing climax. The once building orgasm slipped from you with each passing second. You knew you weren’t going to get off the easy.
“No please please Ale, I was close,” you desperately whined, hoping to use your thighs to get some sort of friction but Alexia had them stationed down with her strong hands with her nails digging into your skin, leaving little indents. You were nearly one thrust away to tumble over the edge, but she was denying you that sweet, sweet release with a devilish grin.
“Look at you. All desperate and needy. Only good girls get to come. Oh baby girl, I think I’m going to have a great time with you,” she cooed. She takes the head of her cock and teases your highly sensitive clit, gliding it up and down your slit before working you open.
“I can be a good girl, please Alexia, I will be a good girl,” you begged. Your voice was raspy and sore. You already knew tonight would be spent begged Alexia for an orgasm, she seemed insistent on edging you all night long after all your teasing. Your mind was clouded and all you could pinpoint was how badly you needed to come.
She hooks your thighs around her waist as she slowly rocks her hips to fill your pussy up to the brim, stretching you out inch by inch. She was taking everything painfully slow, watching as your pretty pink hole clenched each she pulled out with each stroke.
“You feel so good. I’ll take care of you, eventually” Alexia moaned as you take every inch of her full length. She sucked hard on your warm skin, leaving small dark bruises down your neck and chest. “Kiss me,” a breathy demand from her as your lips met. Nipping your bottom lip earning a desperate, filthy noise from you.
“I want more, please, give me more,” a sweet little cry. Tears continued to spill out from your glazed over eyes. She was fucking you deep and rough trying to push you over the edge. You braced yourself for yet another orgasm denial.
“Give me one good reason, and I will.” She was testing your limits tonight, showing you exactly who you belonged too. You threw your head back onto the pillow in frustration. Alexia alternating between thrusting and grinding into you while giving your clit stimulation.
“Look at you, baby. You’re doing so good. Aren’t you my good girl?” Just as before, right as the waves of fire pooled in your abdomen, Alexia pulled out as the burn in your center ignited. Trying to pull her back in as she slapped your grabby hands away.
“Please! Give it to me,” you desperately choked out.
Your bud was swollen peeking out over your hood when Alexia began drawing small circles causing you to try to pull away from the girl. You cry out as your hips jolt out, a combination of sensitivity and the brutal pace of Alexia’s nimble point finger. She sprayed her hand palm down on your stomach forcing you into the mattress.
“I want you to ride my cock. Be a good girl and ride my cock and I’ll let you come.” Alexia’s dark pupils were completely dilatated, a hungry look of lust.
You quickly settle into her lap, using her strong muscular thighs for balance. She guides the toy through your folds, shuttering as she roughly taps your clit. Taking a shallow breath as you sink fully flush onto her. Letting her fill you up as the pain quickly turns to a need for pleasure as you begin riding her.
“Fuck baby,” you mewled out.
You ached for a release, throwing your head backwards at the Alexia filled you completely. She uses her right hand to push her fingers along your throat forcing you to look down at her. Adding more pressure against your neck to coax your pace on her cock.
“Look at me,” she demanded, “I want to watch you come on my cock.” Locked eyes with Alexia only spurs you on faster.
Alexia’s large hands roamed your lower back to grip your ass and guide you along the strap, earning a low, rough grunt from you. Smoothing her palm over your backside before she begins attacking your backside with a quick spank. It at first stings as you cry out, but quickly turns to pleasure because of how incredibly turned on you are. With her back against the headboard and you balanced on her thighs, she had you flushed against her frame. Using her glossy lips to latch onto each breast, running her tongue along your nipples until they are fully perked in front of her.
“That’s good, baby, keep doing that,” she encouraged. With Alexia’s hands firm on your hips now, you are able to find a steady rhythm bouncing on the toy, her cock sliding in and out of your wet folds with ease.
You were a whining and moaning mess riding Alexia. Your lips were swollen from kissing, your cheeks were burned red, and there was a sheet of sweat on your forehead. You were entirely fucked out, shaking from the urge to release. You shudder and moan loudly at the erotic sensation.
“Ale please,” you rasped out, “I can’t hold back anymore," on the brink of an orgasm, begging she finally let you topple over the edge.
The pretty little noises leaving your mouth and your blissed-out expression spreading all over your face indicates to Alexia that you are close. Coming close to losing composure.
“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Taking me so well. Do it. Come.”
A few final bounces and wetness spills out onto her as your thighs shake thunderously. After nearly being edged all night your vision fades to black. Alexia holds her body upright with her hands on your thighs, coaxing you through your orgasm. Sending you higher and higher into pure bliss.
Pulling you into a soft kiss as you fall into a limp mess on top of her. “I said I’d take care of you, did you think I wouldn’t follow through on that?” She pulls you into her arms, letting you relax into her body, resting your face into the crook of her neck.
#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#alexia putellas smut#woso smut#woso one shot
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God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)
A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.
pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)
content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)
word count: 1.6k
Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time.
For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time.
It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it.
“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot.
Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you.
“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison.
“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”
The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him.
The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat.
When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend.
“Jake, where are you taking me?”
You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.
“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”
“Alright, alright, I trust you.”
“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”
You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary.
When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.
“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”
“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”
“Ask you again?”
“Yeah, please?”
“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”
You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.
“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”
“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.
Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.
Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood.
“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”
“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.
“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”
Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”
“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.
“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.”
Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.
From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends.
“You all knew?”
“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.
“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug.
#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin fluff#top gun maverick fic#top gun maverick imagine#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#hangman fic#jake hangman seresin fic#hangman#top gun: maverick fic#jake seresin#jake seresin x f!reader#jake seresin x gn!reader#jake hangman seresin imagine#jake hangman seresin fluff#lt. jake seresin x reader#lt. jake seresin x you#lt. jake seresin
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Prompt from @help-i-need-a-cool-username
Jason has once again snuck into Gotham University. Now, before any assumptions are made onto why the crime lord would break into a college, the reason is because he likes the library. That's it. The public library is trashed and small, barely taken care of, but Gotham U's? It's beautiful. Multiple floors, organized and in sections, taken care of, alphabetical order, it's magnificent. The chairs were a reason alone to sneak in, but the students here added an extra charm.
He had gone to the very back of the library on the second floor. This area was pretty well hidden and enclosed. He would come here to read without anyone questioning him, even hiding the books he wasn’t finished with yet to continue on later. Jason wasn’t expecting someone to be so close to his spot though. A few tables across stood a student, thin, tall, with pitch black hair, baggy cargo jeans, and a white t-shirt. The other hadn’t noticed him yet, so he remained quiet and just watched. He was in front of a large white board on wheels, seemingly taken from the rooms he saw down the hall.
“That doesn’t work, goddammit.”
On the white board was lines upon lines of equations- at least he thought they were equations, with most of them being letters and symbols rather than numbers. It made the vigilante’s brain hurt. The student - assumed STEM major - just kept mumbling to himself.
“Stupid physics, won’t allow interdimensional travel”
What? Jason may have been out of school since 15, but he knew no courses were asking for the answer to traveling between dimensions. It seemed the student had a habit of talking to himself when worked up or focused, possibly why he isolated himself from the rest of the library.
“If your parents could do it, why can’t you? Think Danny, think!”
That sentence wasn’t concerning at all, but at least Jason learned the boy’s name. Danny seemed to have a strange background, what did he mean by ‘if your parents could do it’? Had his parents managed to travel between dimensions? The other was chewing on the cap of the white board marker, his other hand resting on his hip as he swayed back and forth.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! That! The thing! That thingy!”
Jason could practically see the lightbulb go on above Danny’s head. Just then the other erased a solid portion of the whiteboard and dropped to his knees, ouch. He started frantically scribbling, fast and messy, barely cohesive. Though, Jason was sure that if it was Tim sitting where he was instead, the boy could probably understand everything on that board. He’d stick to English literature, thank you very much.
“That’s it! Oh my ancients! I got it!”
Danny practically jumped in the air, punching the air in triumph. Jason almost felt proud of him, this complete stranger he’s been watching, wow he was being creepy, huh? Danny shot both of his arms straight up, the marker gripped tightly in his right hand fist.
“I did it!”
He looked so happy, so excited. He began to buzz, even spinning, before stopping mid loop and turning around slowly. Shit, Jason had been caught. To be fair, Danny hadn’t exactly turned around the whole time, meaning Jason was just watching his back the whole time as he worked through his… problem? It’s such a shame, Jason was thoroughly entertained by this random kid.
“Uhhh, hi? How long have you been there?”
Oh shit, Jason had to talk now, didn’t he?
“Not very long, but long enough to know you were trying to solve interdimensional travel before apparently succeeding.”
The color drained from Danny’s face. Whoops?
“Uhm, no I didn’t.”
Now that he got a closer look, the student looked like someone Bruce would adopt. Black hair, clear blue eyes, tan skin, sharp features, the whole nine yards. He was actually fairly attractive, maybe even cute.
“Really? I could have sworn that you said ‘stupid physics won’t allow interdimensional travel’”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah sure, and I’m a student here.”
“Wait, you’re not a student here?”
“That’d only be true if you were lying.”
“Well I’m not so-”
“Uh huh, sure you’re not.”
“Look dude-”
“Jason.”
“Look Jason, there’s no way that I could solve interdimensional travel, the multiverse doesn’t exist.”
“Look Danny-”
“How do you know my name?”
“I won’t tell a single soul if you explain how you did it to me”
Curiosity won his gambit. Would he regret what he was about to say? Perhaps.
“Maybe over a coffee?”
He knew it was worth it when the marker hit the floor and Danny moved his hand to cover his red face. Well, it wasn’t the first time he’s done something he regrets, maybe this time it’d be a cute STEM major who knows the secrets to the multiverse.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#jason todd#red hood#danny fenton#danny phantom#danny fenton is a huge nerd#figuring out interdimensional travel instead of finishing his 5 page english paper due 'like yesterday'#jason has done many things he regrets#breaking into a college isnt one#neither is asking out the cute nerd with eccentric capabilities#if only jason knew what he was getting into#boo#jason todd x danny fenton#dead on main#college au#gotham university
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pairing: anakin skywalker x reader
summary: you think anakin's scar is sexy // based on this post and the line, "during heated moments of course, when you dig your nails into his face as he prompts you to 'give me another one, baby. cut me open, make me bleed.'"
cw: smut, minors dni. blood/gore (she scratches him and draws blood), don't like don't read.
Sex with Anakin is a bloody thing; the rush of it through your ears and the tang of it on your tongue as your spit runs hot. Though it mainly stays beneath your skin, rising to the surface to splotch you purple here and there, it occasionally surfaces due to the harsh bite of Anakin's teeth.
He's latched onto your shoulder now, some base instinct he doesn't bother to combat. He grunts against your skin as he ruts into you, teeth digging sharply into your skin. He hasn't broken it, but he will if he clamps down harder, and there's no telling what he'll do.
"Fuck, Anakin," You wince at the pain that's boiling your blood, sending shockwaves of its heat to your core, "Be- be careful, you're gonna leave a- mm! - a scar."
He exhales through his nose; you feel the breath against your shoulder.
His pace doesn't slow, but his teeth unlatch from your shoulder, leaving strings of spit behind, and his lips press there lazily.
"You and scars," He hums thoughtfully, almost amusedly, "You fuckin' love 'em, don't you?"
"Hm?" Is all you can manage as Anakin latches to your jaw now, his lip a tight, sucking ring.
"You love my fucking scar," He accuses, licking a hot stripe of saliva up your jawline and over your cheek. It puts the aforementioned scar in your view, and you admire the way it cuts jaggedly close to his eye.
He's right; it's hot.
"I do," You breathe, really more of a moan as Anakin's dick prods deep into your sensitive cunt, "I- It's so pretty, Ani."
"Yeah?" He asks, breath hitting your face, "Give me another one, then."
"What?"
"Give me another one," He repeats, breaking the bruising seal that his hand has had over your hip since he'd first laid over you. He lifts his hand to take your own, bringing it up to his face and setting it over his eye. Your nails rest gently against his tan skin, and his breath shudders when he exhales over your mouth.
"Dig your fucking nails into me, baby. Give me another scar- cut me open and make me fucking bleed."
"Anakin!" You protest, momentarily horrified, "I- I can't do that! I can't hurt you!"
"You can," He urges- no, begs, his hips snapping faster and faster into yours as he smashes your hand to his face, feeling the bite of your nails, "Do it, baby, fucking- fucking do it, give me another scar!"
"Anakin-"
"Do it!"
You let the heat of the moment seize you, and, though all five of your nails dig into his skin, one breaks through. You scrape your middle finger so harshly against his eyebrow that it draws blood, a crimson streak that lays lopsided and not quite parallel against his now-healed scar.
The burning pain that accompanies your nail's sharp edge is enough to push Anakin over the edge, and you feel yourself succumbing to your own orgasm as he begins to fuck his way through his inside of your spasming cunt. When the height of it takes him he nudges your hand out of the way and rubs his face against yours, leaving you with a gory smear of blood against your own eyebrow.
Something about it makes you sob; not sadness or anger, but perhaps sheer viscerality. Anakin's blood on your face feels cosmically binding, wrought from the edge of your nail at his heated insistence. He feels the shake of your chest as he collapses above you, his dick still inside of you though it softens now that he's spent.
"Shit," Is all he can offer, and you agree.
"Does it hurt?" You ask curiously, knowing that an apology will be dismissed; he'd begged for it, after all.
"A bit," He shrugs, eyes shut despite the crimson stain just left of them, "I've had worse."
"It'll scar," You note, perhaps stating the obvious but acknowledging it now for the first time.
"Yeah. Now I've got double the sex appeal," Anakin nods absentmindedly against your chest, more focused on regaining his breath, "And every time you see it you'll think of how you gave it to me."
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker scenario#anakin skywalker oneshot#anakin skywalker one-shot#anakin skywalker one shot#anakin skywalker headcanon#anakin skywalker headcanons#anakin skywalker hcs#anakin skywalker hc#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfic#anakin skywalker fic#anakin skywalker blurb#anakin skywalker drabble#anakin skywalker dialogue#anakin skywalker fluff#anakin skywalker smut
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The Dress
Summary: Fernando Alonso is the biggest flirt in Formula One and he particularly likes flirting with you. This is what happens when you happen to wear a dress he more than likes. Rating: 16+ with adult, mature themes Pairing : Fernando Alonso x Reader Word Count : 958 - ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : NSFW themes implied, flirting, age gap relationships and a little sprinkle of judgey colleagues Images : Found on Pinterest 💕 Authors Note : I forgot to answer this as a request 🫠
List : List A. Prompt : #143 - “You look beautiful. But I’m afraid you’d look more gorgeous with that dress off you.” (Note: line changed to - ““You wear such a beautiful dress and don’t expect me to be the one taking it off you?”
Fernando was a flirt. A first class, top rate flirt. As soon as you joined the paddock as an onscreen presenter last year you realised this. You grew up watching the man race so to have him in front of you constantly trying to get you to blush was perhaps the most flattering thing to ever happen in your life. Your stomach twisted when you noticed he was walking over. His PR handler giving you the knowing nod before he himself reached you. He had had a podium finish (P3) so you knew he was going to be more flirtatious than usual with you.
“Ah” He smiled broadly. “Mi Princesa de la television.” He called you by the nickname he had bestowed upon you mid last season – which, with the help of Google translate, you worked out meant my television princess – and was always a sure fire way to make you smile for him. You found the older man more handsome since he made his move to Aston Martin. Not that he wasn’t handsome before but the dark green set off against his lovely tanned skin really got you going. This year he seemed like he was more relaxed and gave insightful, thoughtful answers to your questions more than his frustrating years at Alpine.
Your interview with him went by in the blink of an eye and not once did he ever break eye contact with you which meant you spent the whole time keeping your heart rate under control. You never failed to get big smiles out of him and today, celebrating his podium, was no different. Your “friendship” with Fernando was something that made you the envy of other journalists in the paddock. He was always your easiest interviewee and saved all the good sound bites especially for you. As you noticed the light on the top of your cameraman’s camera go off – signalling you were no longer live – Fernando couldn’t wait to take the opportunity suddenly handed to him. In perfect English he asks you; “What are your plans tonight?” Which resulted in you explaining you were intending to pack your suitcase so you were ready for your early morning flight home. Fernando replies quickly with a defiant head shake and practically orders you into having dinner with him.
“Fernando I cant, it’s really not,” You were going to say appropriate but he stopped you midsentence. He leaned in across the barrier, his hot breath ghosted across your cheek. For the briefest of moments you thought he might kiss you and cause a hell of a media storm but he didn’t. He simply continued toward your ear. His lips dangerously close to it when he was the boldest he had ever been.
“You wear such a beautiful dress and don’t expect me to be the one taking it off you?” His words dripped with his strong Spanish accent. They lashed at the sensitive skin on your neck as you tried hard not to let out a shocked gasp at his words. It was the first time he had been so bold since he had began this dance of flirting with you. The sudden forwardness sent a strong pulsating ache straight between your thighs as you thought about him doing exactly what he suggested, removing your dress.
“And now you’re thinking about me naked.” He pulled back and smirked broadly. It made you laugh. Really laugh. Enough that other people snapped their necks to check out what was going on. You didn’t need to see the reactions of your fellow journalists because you could already feel their eyes on you (and their no doubt disapproving looks). They hadn’t been able to hear what Fernando had whispered to you but the action of him leaning in like that was clearly enough to spark their imaginations.
“Dinner, Hermosa. Then you can decide if that dress looks better on or on my hotel room floor.” They had certainly heard that one. He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice this time. As one older, European commentator tutted audibly – It would have been dumb of you not to register his reaction as him attempting to shame you for being a rather above average looking woman working in motorsport (as if you hadn’t already faced all of their degrading comments about your looks almost every single race weekend already) but you realised you didn’t care – you felt an unexpected boldness grip hold of you that somewhat mimicked the man standing in front of you (trying hard not to check out your boobs in your dress).
“Dinner.” Fernando raised his eyebrow at your acceptance “And then we will see about the dress.” He had never heard you so confident before. You crumbled whenever he would toy with you but this time you accepted his offer in the most alluring manner you could muster. You had always been a nervous flirt - always the one to back down when it started getting too obvious – but now, in this setting with colleagues ready to judge you, you simply thought “fuck it”. If this was your one chance to fuck a formula one driver by hell you were going to take it.
#fernando alonso#fernando alonso imagine#fernando alonso imagines#fernando alonso fanfic#fernando alonso fanfiction#fernando alonso fic#fernando alonso one shot#fernando alonso oneshots#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso x you#fernando alonso x y/n#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 one shot#f1 oneshots#f1 imagines#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n
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Hi! 💕
April prompt #1 with Azriel, please? That would be awesome. Either way, keep up your good work!
A/N - SO CUTE FOR AZRIEL! I loved writing this, and thanks for requesting this! I hope you like it!
Special
Summary - Azriel reassured you of how special you are to him
Warnings - Mostly fluff :)
“Here, rest your wings here,”
“I don’t need to—“
“I don’t wanna hear it. They need a massage and you know it. Come, lay on your belly here,”
Watching your mate grumble a bit was a bit comical, but he plopped down on the massive king-sized bed you two shared, the soft sheet under him instantly cooled him down and he sighed in relief as his wings were now plaint on both sides of him along the top of the comforter. With the fire roaring in the fireplace in front of the bed and the window slightly open to let in the spring evening breeze, You knelt behind your mate to see his muscular and toned backside and his wings hanging off his sides with fatigue and stress laced in the membrane and bone structure.
Grabbing some of the lotion from the nightstand that you would use for times like these, you rubbed some between your fingers and then sat along the back of his thick thighs, pushing your fingers along his lower back and hips since his past hung low to give you access and space to his tan skin. Within a millisecond, Azriel moaned and hummed in approval, almost acting like a cat getting a head scratch. He would act like a cat when he would be pampered by you, it’s been his way since you two met some years ago. You both stumbled on each other really, fate or simply by chance. Either way, you were grateful to have Azriel in your life, and you knew he felt the same way about you.
Being mates with Azriel was no easy task, not with his line of work and what he did for the High Lord and Lady of Night Court. He would spy for them and seek out information, placing his neck on the line daily for the sake of his Court and for Velaris most of all. But he was a good Spymaster, never breaking a sweat when it came to close calls or near-death experiences. To him, it was just another day at the office, but it did take some time for you to get used to it.
If you could, you would have him stay home and be safe where you knew danger would not come after him. But that was more of a fever dream, you would have to wait for him to come home every time he was summoned to spy on another court or accompany his High Lord and Lady. Azriel knew what that meant to you, he was used to being alone and not needing to have another being worry about him. As his mate, Azriel had to make sure not only you were safe, but that he would come back to you in one piece simply to put you at ease.
Your nights together were sacred. He loved having time with you to decompress from his stressful day, just as you enjoyed being with Azriel after being at your store for hours on end. You loved your job, running the store for centuries, and being able to finically take care of yourself. But there was something about being with Azriel and spending time with him over dinner or with a glass of wine in hand. Azriel would tell you all about his mission, well, as much as he could tell you that wasn’t classified, and you were indulging him with all the gossip with your customers and patrons. He thought of them as hilarious, and to hear him laugh made your heart soar since it was a beautiful and rare sound.
You moved your palms along a particular spot, hearing him let out a gutted moan as you grinned and worked the knot out of his shoulder.
“I don’t think you’ve been stretching when I told you to,” you lightly scolded him, hearing Azriel laugh as his eyes were still closed and his head against his pillow.
“I forgot today,” he reasoned with you as your fingers were now moving along his wings, being gentle along with the membrane and the thin flesh. You feel Azriel hum in approval, a sigh of relief was on his lips as you were working along his wings and near his spine. It was a sacred thing, to have someone touch an Illryian’s wings. It was only meant for a significant other to do, Azriel was far too protective of his wings since it was part of himself. Growing up the way he did, how he was treated and used in a sense, he swore not to have another touch his wings.
But you came along, and he would go to his knees for you because of how much you loved him.
“There, all better,” You hummed, about to get up from your spot along his backside when he moved so quickly, you almost flew off from the instant rush. He was now on his back, sitting up with you in his lap and with his arms around you tightly, and a massive grin on his face. Azriel even looked more relaxed and calm, the coolness of his hazel eyes and the tossed hair that shined from the fire.
“Someone’s peppy now,” You teased, seeing him grin from ear to ear as his fingers were drumming along your lower back. Even close enough to see the specs in his hazel eyes and the few freckles along his jawline and cheeks, you were still entranced with him with his rare beauty and unique look. From the moment you two laid eyes with one another, you were a goner for him. From how he cocked his head at you and how his smile beamed. There would be no other like him, and you were okay with that.
You were beyond lucky he wanted you as much as you wanted him.
“How could I not be peppy with a mate like you?” He asked aloud, you both smiling at one another as he moved his hand up to trace away some of your hair from your eyes with his fingers, “I know I tell you all the time, but I’m damn lucky to have you in my life. I get to come home to you and feel…”
You rose a brow at him, “Happy?”
He shook his head as he cupped your face with his palm “Safe. You made me feel safe. I haven’t felt safe in a long time, and now I do thanks to you,”
You were starting to shake your head, you were never a huge fan of receiving words of affirmation since you were not used to it yourself, but Azriel leaned in and kissed you sweetly. You hummed, the softness of his lips against yours and how you breathed in the pine aroma that was along his skin, it was a sense of peace for you. For someone as strong or as dangerous as Azriel to kiss you so softly like you were a feather and hold you like you were made of glass, it both scared you and made you love him more.
He pulled away, scanning your eyes and seeing him grinning and being so blissfully happy.
“You are so special to me,” He reassured you, his voice so calm and yet so true as he kept you close in his arms, “I don’t think anyone else come as close as you do, and no one else will.”
You moved to trace his jawline with your fingers as you smiled and beamed, “I feel the same way about you too, Az. I feel lucky to call you mine,”
“ ‘Lucky’ is not the word I would use,” Azriel hummed, leaning back into you again as he was breathing you in and kissing you soundly to distract you and make your head swim. You felt like you were under a spell with him, which always happened with Azriel as he pulled away briefly to speak again, “I would use….honored….blessed….other words. And I would rather use other ways to show you how I love you instead of my words,”
And with his stripping off your clothes and bringing in insane love and pleasure, you knew how special you felt.
The End.
April Prompt Session
#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel x female!reader#acotar fandom#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#fanfiction#writing
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hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶
thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image
The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.
In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.
The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.
Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).
It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.
You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.
So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.
One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.
Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.
You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.
Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.
You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.
Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”
You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”
The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.
When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.
“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”
“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”
“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”
“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.
“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”
You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.
“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”
“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”
You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.
And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson request#eddie munson requests#eddie munson reader insert#eddie munson blurb#eddie blurb#eddie blurbs#eddie munson blurbs#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson hurt/comfort#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things eddie
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Where is it, Heat?
Hey Doc Masterlist here
Word Count: 560+
Synopsis: Heat visits your office after a day docked at port. His posture is awkward, his motions careful, and he's trying his best to be polite. That only means one thing. Something is stuck.
Warnings: suggestive themes, sfw but kinks suggested, surgery suggested, exhausted doc, gn!reader x platonic!Heat.
Notes: This is the first drabble for Doc, gn!reader and doctor of the Kid-Pirates.
Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training
Edit to add: inspiration link here, Georgie Carroll. @feral-artistry sent me the link and we both just said "this is so Kid-Pirates." 💀💀💀
“Hey Doc,” a soft knock rapped at your metal office door, “Can I come in?”
Hunched over your desk, studying over the latest medical article released by the marines your captain stole for you, you wave in your crewmate. Heat entered your office slowly and cautiously, clicking the door lightly shut behind him.
You snapped your eyes up, looking to the wall in front of you with tired, exhausted eyes. When your crew acted this kindly, quietly, and carefully, it only meant one thing. With a soft groan in your tone, you asked your pointed question lazily and monotonously.
“Where is it, Heat?”
A soft gulp was audibly heard from the fire breather. You swiveled your chair to face him, leaning back on the backrest and eyeing him cautiously. His thighs were pressed together, his back was lightly hunched, his stitched lips pressed into a thin line.
“We've been docked at port for all of a day,” you eye him through narrowed lenses, “I swear if I see another object stuck inside someone's digestive tract from the exit hole, I'll scream.” A magenta flush rose to Heat’s tanned cheeks as he angled his chin to the floor and eyed you through his sunken lashes.
Taking a pen from your desk, you point it at his head and begin to draw it down his body slowly in front of him.
You halt at his ear and he shakes his head. You halt it at his nose, another head shake as his bashful face flushes further. He shakes his head all the way down his chest to his belly button, prompting you to stop your pen and inhale a deep breath through your nose.
“I swear Heat,” you murmur with your exhale, “If I see another object sucked up someone's butt-” Heat's blush darkens and he sucks in a shaken breath.
“-It's not there, Doc.”
After a few moments of silence, you clap your hands together and bring your fingertips to your nose. You look from his eyes, to his belt buckle, and back up to his eyes again.
“Size and shape?” you ask him with no sense of curiosity, “What’s it made of, and how long has it been in there?” Heat laces his fingers together and hangs it in front of him.
“It's a crayon,” he admits in defeat, his embarrassment depicted in the hang of his head and slump of his shoulders, "Stuck there for about two hours."
“Paraffin or beeswax?” you ask, opening your desk drawer and pulling out some latex gloves. Tugging them up your arms, they snap against your wrists in a sickening clap. Heat’s eyes widen at your question.
“Beeswax, I think,” he admitted with a soft stutter in his voice. You groan, picking up your pliers and readying them in your hands by clicking them thrice in your fingers and thumb.
“Let me get this straight,” you gesture to his belt and instruct him wordlessly to drop his pants, “You have a beeswax, drawing crayon stuck inside your urethra?” Heat undid his belt, nodding slowly in confirmation, and eyeing you to sense your rise in temper.
You groan, shaking your head and scrunching your eyes shut. Murmuring out defeatedly, you inch yourself closer to his pelvis and click on your desk light: pointing it at Heat's pelvis.
“I don't get paid enough for this shit.”
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scorcher |dom!eddie munson x brat!reader|
prompt: from the #munnysummergame I decided to write one of my own lol. kick off the writing challenge bc it's so fun, and I had this idea lol.
☀️- eddie comes home to see you sunbathing...topless ;) can be dom!sub! if you'd like, or sweet smutty goodness. whatever you'd like it to be! have fun with it!
contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes, voyeruism, nipple play, nipple clamps, language, restraints (bandana), spanking, p in v sex.
It was hot.
Too hot for Hawkins, Indiana. An unheard of heat wave that left the midwestern town muggy and humid, scorching with the kind of heat that had you hustling towards the AC, sitting in front of box fans and cooling off.
Eddie's trailer was a sauna, the AC unit old and rickety, not doing much to combat the unusual rising temperatures. Eddie wiped his brow, already stripped down, loose t-shirt hanging around his neck. Even with the blasting AC in the music store, Eddie had gone through nearly an entire stick of deodorant, dabbing napkins and paper towels in between guitar tune ups and lessons to keep himself from sweating through another shirt.
Everyone in the trailer park was tucked away, sprinklers still spraying water, yet there were no kids squealing about, far too hot for anyone to be out. No one, except you.
Lying on the grass on a spread, faded beach towel, you lied on your tummy, arms propped up and skimming the magazine beneath you. The shiny pages reflected in the sun, hot to the touch with each careful flick of your wrist, but Eddie wasn't concerned with that; oh no.
His attention was brought to your naked top, breasts hanging onto the towel, nipples barely covered by your folded arms. You were practically exposed; topless, on his front lawn.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, baby, are you serious?" Eddie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
You tilted your head up, lip tucking between your teeth in a glinting little smile, shades falling down the slope of your nose teasingly. "Hi, baby," You purred, flipping another page with a hum. "How was work? I missed you, handsome."
Eddie was less impressed with your sheepish smile, areoles peeping up from their place on the towel, becoming more and more exposed with every rise of your chest. He rolled his tongue down the side of his mouth, eyes cutting around him. He'd told you to behave, pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your head, muttering to your sleeping frame to have a good day, be a good girl for him; but you never were.
It had been a while since the two of you really played. More than just a few playful slaps and threatening words. You'd been patient, he'd give you that, even though he knew it was coming soon- the inevitable bratty break. He supposed with the heat mixed with your frustration, today was your breaking point.
"What're you doin', huh?" Eddie grit, hands on his hips, his shadow covering your body.
You tilted your chin up at him, frowning lightly, like you couldn't possibly imagine why he was upset. "I'm just getting some sun, Ed." You sighed contently, pulling your shades down the slope of your nose. The raise in your arm off the towel gave Eddie a full view of your exposed chest, pebbled nipples that left him blushing, and not from the Hawkins' sun, for once.
"Why don't you join me, baby? Lookin' a little pasty. Some color would do ya good." You grinned, settling back down onto the towel.
Eddie snorted, shaking his head. His curls were pulled back in a low bun, bangs sticking to his furrowed brow. "What're you doing out here with no top on? Your tits are out." Eddie flung a hand towards you, ringless because they kept swelling in the heat.
You looked down at your exposed chest, lips rolling when you looked back up at him. "Hm, well, I didn't want tan lines, baby. They look so ugly when I try to wear those little dresses you like." You purred.
Eddie knew what you were doing, and he was damned to not let you know, even if his cock was lurching at the thought of you in that tight, leather dress he loved so much- always ruined you in it.
"Can you put some lotion on my back, Ed?" You asked simply, moving to grab the pale pink bottle discarded carelessly in the grass. "Don't wanna get burnt and red." You held it up to him, right boob fully exposed to him and whoever else was lurking around.
Eddie snatched it out of your hand with a grow, catching your own wrist with it. "Oh, something's gonna be red soon, honey. Get up."
You tried to bite back your grin, barefeet padding through the grass, stepping over dandelions and rocks, Eddie's hand holding your wrist in a vice. "Ow! The steps are hot!" You jumped back on the steel steps of the trailer, bouncing from toe to toe.
Eddie rolled his eyes hard, setting his foot on the bottom, spread so his other held the door unlatched. Ever the gentleman, even when he was about to punish you. You bounced on the smooth, white tops of his Reebok's, letting his hands grip your naked waist to steady you while you avoided the hot metal inside.
"Get in front of the couch." Eddie growled, a firm slap to your ass while he shut the screen door with a low groan.
Your body was covered in goosebumps, nipples hardening at the cool air from inside the trailer. You knelt obediently in front of the couch, resting back on your thighs, hands on top of your thighs. You tracked Eddie with your eyes, squirming slightly at the menacing look he gave you.
"You think this is funny? Laying topless where anyone could see you?" Eddie snapped, brow raising.
You huffed. "There wasn't anybody out-"
"-That you know." Eddie sneered. "What is Mrs. Hall's kids came out, saw you topless, and then you're getting a public indecency charge? Or that creep Frank coulda been spying on you? And I'm not here."
Your heart deflated slightly, excitement draining out of your system gently. You hadn't thought of that, truthfully.
"I'm sorry, Ed." You said genuinely, eyes wide and sorry when you met his. "I was just..."
Eddie lifted a brow. "Just what? Tryna piss me off?"
You paused. "Well, yeah, not piss off but... I just wanted to play!" You whined, hands slapping the top of your thighs gently. "I thought you'd think it was fun!"
Eddie's eyes bulged. "You thought I would think you showing your tits off to the neighborhood would be fun?" Eddie scoffed. "If you wanted to play, you shoulda just asked. Not go topless and parading around outside."
Your lip jutted, cheeks heating at the chastisement. "I wasn't parading." You mumbled.
Eddie's brow raised, eyes narrowing at you. "Enough, alright? Any more out of you and I'm gagging you. That what you want?"
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest with a shake of your head. Still so bratty. Eddie shook his head. "Arms down. You know better." He snapped, flinging through the cabinets of the kitchen. You wondered what he was looking for, too scared to ask.
Eddie shoved something in his pocket, stomping down the hall towards his bedroom. You craned your neck to look, listening over the loud hum of the air conditioning for any sign of what he was getting. You knew it would probably be the paddle- or worse, the cane.
Eddie came back in with his bandana, paddle-less and cane-less to your surprise. His eyes stayed on yours, holding your gaze in his menacing one before sitting in front of you. "Stand up." He ordered, that firm, commanding tone he always slipped into when he was punishing you.
You squirmed but scrambled to your knees, letting him pull you in between his legs. "Turn around." Eddie patted your hip gently. "Put your hands behind your back."
You obliged, touching your wrists together before he tied them with the bandana. You grinned at the choice in restraints, lack of cuffs meaning he was going to go easy on you.
Eddie pulled the knot firmly, satisfied that it would keep your wrists bound. His eyes lingered on your bikini bottoms, riding up into the crack of your ass, teasing him with the cheekiness of the cut. He'd been with you when you bought them, modeling them in the dressing room before he joined you, diving tongue first into your pussy.
"Better take these off, don't ya think?" Eddie muttered, hands tracing up and down your exposed hip, grinning at the way you shivered. "Don't think we'll be needing these."
You shook your head in agreement, rolling your lip between your teeth at the delicate pull of the strings, falling down your legs easily into a puddle on the green carpet.
Eddie's hands rubbed up and down your exposed flesh, squeezing at your hips, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. "You just wanted to show off, hm? Wanted to show everyone what's mine?" He asked, voice low and gravelly.
You whined, shaking your head. "No, Ed." You whined, keeping your head forwards, eyes trained on the wall. "Just didn't want tan lines, promise." You muttered.
"Promise?" Eddie's voice lilted, pulling back. You could feel him behind you, fishing for something in his back pocket. "You know you were just trying to get me upset. Being bratty and throwing a fit, weren't you? You wanted me to get upset with you, didn't you? To punish you?"
You shook your head, though your thighs clenched at the thought. "No," You sighed heavily, his hand smoothing up and down your tummy, cupping your boobs barely before running back down towards your aching and exposed pussy.
"Hmm," Eddie hummed lowly, his pinky barely swiping over your slit, leaving your knees buckling at the touch. "I think you're lying to me."
"That's alright, baby." Eddie cooed before you could huff and retaliate. "I'll teach ya a lesson, don't you worry. I'll give you exactly what you want."
You felt something hard trail up your sternum, dropping your chin to look before Eddie's hand caught your jaw. "Eyes forward." He snapped.
Your heart pounded, unsure but obediently following Eddie's command. You felt the foreign object trail all over your hot skin, up and down your tummy, your under boob, around your nipples.
"You wanted to show off your pretty little tits for everyone, hm?" Eddie growled, his nose brushing your temple. His free hand moved to your boobs, cupping them before thumbing over your nipples, rolling the nubs until they hardened and stood perk and erect for him.
"You want to show them off so badly? Why don't you show them off like this?" Eddie grit, before your body jolted.
The clamping sensation of a clothespin biting and snapping onto your nipples had the breath leaving your lungs, a new and uncomfortable sensation. The smooth wood was firm but not unbearable, not like the metal ones Eddie saw at the sex shop. The mouth of the pin clamped onto your budding nipples, holding onto them with tight pressure that had you wanting to rub them desperately, dull aching that sent shockwaves straight to your core.
You gasped, Eddie fixing the other one on your nipple, moving so he could see your face. He grinned, taking in your scrunched expression, unpleasant at best, bouncing from toe to toe like that might alleviate some of the pain.
"Hurt?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. You nodded. "Good. Bend over." He plopped down on the couch, pulling you over his lap, careful of the makeshift clamps you tried to rip off.
You were dangling forward, hands tied tight behind your back, Eddie's hand over your hip, holding you firmly into place. His hand rubbed over the flesh of your ass, squeezing your right cheek hard enough to pull a yelp from you.
"Oh, you know that didn't hurt." Eddie mocked you, cooing and mean, leaving you blistering with embarrassment- throbbing from his tone. "But this," Eddie brought his hand down, an upward sweeping motion that cracked down on your ass, leaving you lurching forward with a small gasp. "Hurt. Didn't it?"
You whined, wiggling against his grasp, the steady burning building on your ass mixing with the pulling and dull ache from the clothespins that came with every squirm.
"You were so bad, today. After I worked all day? And this is what I have to come home to." Eddie shook his head at you, flattened palm zeroing in on your hot cheeks.
"'M sorry, Ed!" You panted, hips wiggling just right against his right knee, your core rubbing against his leg.
"I don't think you are, honey." Eddie tutted with a heavy, dramatic sigh. You cried out at the two sharp hits the the top of your thighs, the crease of your ass. Oh, he knew you were gonna cum from this, he had to. If it was a real punishment, he'd stick to the fatty parts of your ass.
"I think I should take you outside. Spank ya out there, since you want to go around flashing everyone." Eddie hummed, tongue poking out. His eyes bounced back and forth, following his hand that smacked the juicy skin around with every harsh spank.
"Maybe make you go stand out there with those hands tied. Whaddya think, baby? Show everyone what happens to bad girls around here?" Eddie hissed.
You knew he wouldn't, far too possessive and not necessarily wanting to have to explain to a cop that this is what you two did- a sex thing. Yet the threat left you pulsing, grinding down further and further on his leg.
"You'd like that wouldn't you? Like everyone to see what I do to you? How I handle you, hm?" Eddie purred in your ear, another stinging slap to the center of your ass, leaving you clenching around nothing. You were sure you were dripping down your leg now, coated in your own stick arousal.
"Want everyone to see how I punish you, hm? How I keep you in line when you're such a bad girl?" Eddie growled, two punctuating slaps to your ass that had your head reeling. The clothespins were brushing against his leg, only aiding in the tight, mean tugging that had you crying out.
"Yes! Please, Ed, please!" Eddie was sure you didn't even know what you were begging for, something- sensation, no doubt. For him to let you cum, and he would. Just not that easily.
Eddie pulled you off his lap abruptly, setting you with a small bounce onto the couch. You hissed at the pain, at the lack of friction, the burning feeling on your ass and nipples.
Eddie stood, furiously pulling down his pants and boxers. "Over the couch. Over the couch, now." He growled, eyes dark and blown. It made you shiver, scrambling to bend over the couch.
Eddie rode you, one hand gripping your bound hands, the other slapping your ass and pulling your makeshift clamps, pounding you out furiously over the back of the couch. You felt suffocated in the heat, Eddie's body and your own covered in sweat while he rutted into you, like a dog in heat.
The inside of the trailer went up a few degrees, thick and steamy with the tangy smell of sweat and your release, but neither one of you seemed to mind.
#munnysummergame#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#dom!eddie munson x brat!reader#dom!eddie munson#dom!eddie#dom!eddie munson x reader#brat tamer!eddie#brat tamer!eddie munson#eddie munson au#eddie munson x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson#eddie x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb
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Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)
A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is. Bless up to @fanaticsnail for cheering me while writing this, would've very much struggled without you love bug 🤍🤍🤍
Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan
Word Count: ~4.5k
Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him
Snippet:
“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.
“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.
“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.
“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.
You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.
The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.
“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.
You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.
“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin.
“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.
Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.
“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”
“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”
“Our first meeting.”
Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.
“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.
“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”
“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues.
“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”
“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into.
“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.
“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”
“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”
“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”
“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”
Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.
“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”
You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.
“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.
“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”
“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.
If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.
“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”
Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.
“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.
“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.
Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.
Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.
Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.
“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”
“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.
“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.
“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.
“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.
“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him.
Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.
~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~
“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.
You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”
He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle.
“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.
“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.
“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.
“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.
“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”
“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.
“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”
“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.
“And,” you repeated. “And…”
You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.
Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.
While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.
He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.
In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.
He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.
When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection.
“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”
You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.
“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”
Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.
Finally, he unfroze.
“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.
“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.
“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”
You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.
“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead.
“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.
You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.
“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk#opla mihawk x reader#opla mihawk#one piece#request#my writing#fem reader#x reader#one piece x reader#mihawk x you#mihawk x y/n#one piece fanfiction#mihawk fanfiction#opla
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Fine Line
prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.
pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 5.2k+
note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.
warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.
There was a fine line between love and hate.
You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings.
You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes.
You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.
And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.
The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.
This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.
Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.
Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.
On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.
You were unsure which this all was yet...
You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.
When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.
Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.
"You still alive?"
"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.
Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"
"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"
"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"
"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.
"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.
"Fuck off."
"He's into you, you know."
"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."
"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"
"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "
"I know you want to."
"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"
"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"
"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"
"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.
"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.
"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."
"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."
"Where are you?"
You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"
"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"
"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"
"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."
"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"
She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"
"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"
"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.
You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.
"Peach?"
"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"
"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.
"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"
"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."
You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"
"'Fraid so."
"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.
"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"
"He with you?"
"Fuck no."
"Where's Lemon, then?"
"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.
"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"
Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."
"What?"
"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.
You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"
"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.
"You workin' for the White Death?"
"How'd you - "
"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"
Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."
"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."
"Who gets the case?"
"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"
"Dead - murdered, actually."
"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."
Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."
"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."
"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"
"No, that'd require a third."
"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.
"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.
"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."
"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.
It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.
You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.
The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.
"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.
"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"
"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"
"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.
"I quite like this position, though, love."
"Thought you liked a top?"
"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."
"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"
"That an earnest question?"
You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."
"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."
You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."
"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.
"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.
"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"
"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "
"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"
"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.
"Oi, no - "
"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"
He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."
"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.
"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."
Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"
He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"
"Tangerine."
"Hmm? What?"
"No, that's my safe word."
"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"
You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"
"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."
You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.
"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.
"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."
You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."
He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "
"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"
He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.
"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.
"This works, though, still shuts you up."
"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.
"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"
You glared but didn't answer.
"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."
When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.
"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.
"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.
"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"
"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."
"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"
"I do, I swear - "
"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."
You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.
"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."
You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.
"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"
You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.
"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"
You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.
"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.
"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."
"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"
"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.
But that wasn't all.
Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."
"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.
"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.
"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.
"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.
Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.
He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."
"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.
"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"
"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.
At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"
"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.
"The fuck you doin', mate?"
You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.
"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"
"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"
"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"
"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."
Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."
"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."
"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."
"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"
"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"
"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.
"Not a bit," he smirked.
"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"
"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.
"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.
"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."
"This is different," you promised.
He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"
"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."
"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.
"W-What's wrong? You okay?"
"Where's the fucking case?"
Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"
"Some people like that," Maria eased.
"Do you?"
"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"
"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."
"You sound jealous."
"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."
"Of which one?"
"Not entirely sure yet."
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#bullet train tangerine#tangerine smut#tangerine x female!reader#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x f!reader#tangerine x reader#tangerine imagine#tangerine x you#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x oc#bullet train#bullet train movie#bullet train 2022#atj#tangerine atj#atj tangerine#atj character#bullet train tangerine x reader#tangerine bullet train x reader#tangerine x reader smut#requested#queers gambir
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holy crap i love your writing!! could i get a bedtime story with jj maybank and 61 + 79 please !!
congrats on 1k
jj maybank x fem!reader
prompts : " forehead to forehead " + " leans in for a small kiss, pulls away, and then turning into a full blown makeout session "
𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑
somehow, days spent relaxing in the sun seemed exhausting.
being out on the boat with your friends all day, dipping in and out of the water every 30 minutes, had brought you to the brink of exhaustion.
you used jj's assistance to climb out of the boat and went straight for the spare room that jj used.
whenever all of you stayed over at the chateau, you pretty much had your designated places.
pope and kiara situated themselves on the pullout bed in the living room.
sarah took residence with john b in his room.
and you always found yourself on the other side of jj's bed. so much so that you had a few things in a box under 'your side' of the bed.
nothing much, a few hairties, a bikini and a phone charger, maybe a couple of miscellaneous things,.
the only reason you didnt have it in the bedside table was for jj's sake. incase any girl came over and found all of your stuff in his room.
but you hadn't seen jj with many girls recently. he had been spending a lot of time with you and the pogues.
you hadn't spotted him chatting up any girls at parties either. it was odd, but you just brushed it off, figuring he was doing stuff on his own time.
you were too tired to think about it right now.
you went into the drawers across the room and grabbed one of jj's t-shirts to put on in place of the bikini top you had been using all day.
there were faint tan lines from the strings which brought a brief smile onto your lips.
you were interrupted by a knock on the door as you pulled the t-shirt over your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed as the door pushed open.
" crashing in here, sunshine ?" the sound of jj's voice caused you to turn your attention towards him.
" definitely. " you replied, collapsing back against the pillow with a soft sigh.
you turned onto your side, curling up slightly into the soft fabric of the bed.
you could hear some soft rustling around the room which you assumed to be jj getting changed, but what you didn't expect was to feel themed dip on the other side, jj falling onto the mattress beside you.
your eyes fluttered open to find him laid opposite you, mirroring your position.
the sight of him across from you brought a smile onto your lips as your eyes closed again.
sleeping after a morning spent in the sun was always the best feeling. it was like the best kind of nap ever.
it was made better by the warmth you felt as you woke up, even though you were unable to see much as you opened your eyes.
you felt a warmth around your torso as you checked the time on your phone.
19 : 48.
you set it down again, turning over to your other side, only to be met with jj fast asleep behind you.
you couldnt stop yourself from lifting your hand to brush some of his hair away from his face with a soft smile.
but it seemed you just interfered with his sleep as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.
you dropped your hand down to the mattress almost instantly, hoping he would just go back to sleep, though your hopes were not met.
his eyes eased open and you were met with his set of baby blues.
" sorry... didn't mean to wake you " you apologised, your voice no louder than a whisper.
" s'okay, sunshine. " he replied, his arms not moving from your torso, not even to move his hair when it dropped over his face again.
the golden locks were blocking the view of his eyes. you brushed it away as best you could, pushing it onto his head, your fingertips dragging deilcately down the edge of his face.
your knuckles grazed over his jawline before dropping down onto the mattress between the two of you.
you really weren't sure why you did that, and as embarrassment settled into your stomach, you felt a warmth on your hand.
jj lifted your hand and settled it onto the junction between his neck and jawline.
you didn't dare move it away this time, instead resting it comfortably against his cheek, your thumb moving of it's own volition, stroking against his cheekbone.
you didnt really have time to question what was happening before you felt the light pressure of jj's lips against your own.
though they disappeared as quickly as they arrived and you were left staring at eachother with an unreadable expression on either of your faces.
you decided not to think about it, or question it, and instead went back in to kiss him, with a considerable amount more passion than he gave you.
his hand dropped from holding onto your wrist to holding onto your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him.
this was not what you had planned when you came in here to take a nap, but you had to admit it was a better turn of events.
you only pulled back when you had to breathe. and when you did you couldn't stop the smile that spread brightly across your face.
or the slight nervous giggle that slipped from your lips.
you were brought back down to the moment when a similar laugh came out across from you.
" what was that about ?" you questioned, not moving far enough from jj that you only had to speak at your quietest volume.
" been thinkin' about it for a while... you're not pissed ? "
" nah, i've been thinking about it for a while too "
his smile grew even further at your answer, dropping his head down against the pillow, your forehead pressed against his.
neither of you moved from that position, ending up falling back into a slumber.
the next thing that woke you was the sound of the door opening followed by the noise of your friends arguing about who called it.
#༊*·˚𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤#jj maybank x reader#obx x reader#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank x routledge!reader#obx pogues#obx#obx season two#obx s2#obx imagine#obx masterlist#obx jj#outer banks#outer banks netflix#outer banks season 3#outer banks s2#outer banks imagine#outer banks pogues#jj maybank#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank x you#obx fanfiction#jj maybank imagine#jj x reader#obx fic#jj obx
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