#atj>>>>

[tea-books-and-reviews]

From: Sir, can I go out with your daughter?

To: Your daughter calls me daddy too

[bianquitasunderworld]

dave lizewski smut plsss i love nerdy dick 😭😭🙏

Parings: Dave Lizewski x Reader

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I love nerdy dick too twin, you so real for this omg😭‼️ (omg y’all i didn’t expect myself to make this kind of romantic sorry y’all i’ll write something crazy next time, this is long as hell ‼️)

How did this happen? How did Dave end up with the woman he thought was the hottest girl on earth, on top of him straddling his hips?

It all started when Dave decided to invite his girlfriend over to study. She definitely did not want to study—how could she, when all she could think about was how hot he looked while he rambled on about some silly, boring, and excessively long economic questions for class.

Truth be told, she didn’t care much about anything he was saying at the moment. Although that might sound rude, she didn’t care one bit. Her boyfriend sat at the edge of his bed, rambling, and he looked absolutely perfect. His glasses were set perfectly in place on his face, and the way the tip of his tongue stuck out as he delved deep into thought about his stupid economics homework—how could she possibly focus?

Dave was completely oblivious to her ogling. He wasn’t aware that she was practically salivating just from looking at him, he was oblivious to all the impure thoughts running through his girlfriends head, he was so focused on finishing his assignments he didn’t realize just how needy his girlfriend was.

Although Dave and you were in a very serious relationship you’ve never discussed sex it was uncharted territory for both of you. Dave was too shy and embarrassed because he was still a virgin it was a sensitive topic for him. Everyone is aware he isn’t the most popular guy at school.

You on the other hand were scared you’d send him running for the hills if you tried to suggest sex, It’s not like you both never did anything well…the furthest you’ve gotten with each other was making out and grinding against each other, and the ending result was always the same: Dave blushing, covering his lap with a pillow while he sat at his desk chair, and diverting into discussions about random comics and superhero references as if you didn’t just have your tongue in his mouth.

You kept eyeing Dave and biting your lip the thoughts running through your head were pure sin, you were convinced if Dave knew about them he would be a stuttering and blushing disaster. You didn’t think your staring was obvious until Dave suddenly redirected his attention from his five-minute monologue about consumerism, catching you in the act.

He looked back at you from his spot on the bed as he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Are you okay? Is um something wrong?” God he was so sweet and caring he was oblivious to the fact that all you wanted to do was have him whimpering and groaning beneath you, your desires were consuming your mind. You always wondered what he would sound like when he was overwhelmed with pleasure. You’d caught a glimpse of it once, and since then, your thirst for more was like that of a desert traveler yearning for a drop of water.

“Yeah-Mhm everything’s fine sorry my mind was somewhere else for a second” you smiled at him trying to sound as if you weren’t seconds away from jumping on him. He smiled and adjusted his glasses before he nodded and turned his attention back to his paper.

You couldn’t stand it the last straw was when he bit his bottom lip in concentration you couldn’t stop yourself you swiped his paper off the table, the rustling sound breaking the spell between you. You set it down with a bit more force than intended, a bold move that marked your intentions.

Leaning in, you placed a hand on his cheek and pressed your lips to his, a surge of unspoken desires finally finding expression. His initial surprise melted away, replaced by a hunger that mirrored your own. In that stolen kiss, the air crackled with a mix of passion and anticipation, as if the world outside had faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in that breathtaking moment.

And there it was, the culmination of all those unspoken desires, manifesting in the reality of the moment. Dave found himself reclined against the headboard, a sensation of both exhilaration and disbelief coursing through him. You straddled him, your legs encasing his body, intimacy that had been a distant fantasy until now. His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, which had turned a deep shade of crimson. The flush of his cheeks mirrored the intensity of the moment, a testament to the shared vulnerability and passion.

Your gaze trailed down, drinking in the sight of his bare chest pressed against you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath a captivating dance. The tousled strands of his hair cradled his head against the pillow like a crown, accentuating his allure.

His eyes held a mix of emotions as they lingered on your chest, a blend of curiosity and desire. The gravity of the moment weighed on the air, punctuated by his words, “Are you sure about this?” Your fingers, tender as a whisper, glided across his cheek, a gesture of reassurance and care. Leaning down, you captured his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, your intention clear—to grant him the choice to halt if his comfort wavered.

You sought to convey through touch what words might not fully express. His gaze held yours, a reservoir of affection and trust that spoke volumes. With a glance saturated in love, he nodded, affirming his readiness to explore uncharted realms with you.

He looked down between both your bodies, you were hovering over him, he bit his lip. Dave whined out a small, broken “please.” You closed your eyes savoring the way he spoken his plead was music to your ears.

You slowly sank down on to him, your mouth let out a small gasp at the feeling as he let out a deep groan, he felt the way you clamped down against him, the way he stretched you open had you groaning. You leaned down to kiss him gently, and gave yourselves time to adjust to the new sensation. Dave was girthy and long, he was bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, this felt different from all the times you’ve had sex this, this was love. You could feel the love radiating off of him as he kissed you and groaned into the passionate kiss.

Once you both adjusted, Dave gripped your hips and bucked his hips into you, his thrust were slow and deep, the noises of skin against each other and pleasurable moans filled the room. “Y-you’re so beautiful” Dave muttered and he looked into your eyes. “You’re so pretty davie” You couldn’t help but cry out as you reached down to play with yourself rubbing small gentle circles on your clit and slowly grinding down against him.

He whimpered and you felt his arms wrap around you, holding you in place. You could feel the tension in his body, the excitement building as he felt you against his body. You leaned down to kiss him gently, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender embrace. You were addicted to the feeling of him inside you, the way he held you, the way he moaned your name. The pressure was building and you knew that you were about to cum you were trying to hold off trying to make this last for as long as you could. “Dave-I’m gonna cum--“ You cried out.

“I-f-fuck” Dave stuttered out as he felt you squeeze around him as you reached your climax, your body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm. Dave was groaning deep in his throat, his hips moving up and down as he came as well. You felt like you were one, a single unit, moving together in a synchronized dance of pleasure as he came deep in you.

Dave whimpered as you rode out your high against him, he felt himself growing overstimulated, he reached for your hips and kept a firm hold on you to keep you from moving, his body was shaking and sweat dripped from his forehead.

“I love you,” you murmured, your voice laced with affection.

“I love you too, baby,” Dave replied, a tender smile on his lips. With a gentle motion, he lifted himself and drew you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

Releasing yourself from the embrace, you let out a soft sigh of contentment as you reclined against the bed, Dave at your side. He seemed to shift, a hint of nervousness tainting his usual bashful demeanor. “So, uh, how did I do? Was it okay?” His cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that rivaled a tomato’s hue.

“You were amazing.”

[moonlightspencie]

do it for me

quote: “Like every serial killer already knew: eventually, fantasizing just doesn’t do it for you anymore”

Pairing: Dave Lizewski x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut!! (p in v, dirty talk, etc) it’s porn with little to no plot aka mdni

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: this is self indulgence at its finest

“Hey, study partner,” you sang out, giving Dave a cheeky smile as you opened the door of your apartment.

“Hey,” he gave a polite, though slightly nervous, smile back. 

You’d been paired together in your speech 101 class to complete a “group speech”. Though, at first you were certain you’d gotten the short end of the stick when you realized you were the only group of two in the class. Not to mention you got paired up with the quiet, kind of dorky guy. 

It only took two study sessions for your mind to change entirely.

His dorkiness quickly became endearing, especially when you realized just how cute he was up close. His messy hair and stupid glasses were stupidly attractive. He was surprisingly jacked under all the layers he normally wore. And, god, his eyes.

If he looked at you with his eyes all wide and innocent-looking one more time, you were certain you’d end up jumping him.

All of that, paired with how cute and blushy he got any time you flirted with him, was the perfect storm: you needed him bad.

You opened the front door of your apartment a little further, allowing him inside. He shuffled just past you, dropping his bag unceremoniously in order to pull off his shoes. You leaned against the wall to observe him as he did, finding yourself watching his every move like a hawk as of late. It was hard not to. You’d certainly had enough dirty dreams in the weeks prior, leading to even dirtier thoughts guiding your hand every time you go that familiar feeling fluttering in your stomach.

You only snapped out of it when he turned to you, his cheeks flushing a bit as he realized you were watching him. Only, you weren’t so nervous. You never were one to shy away from a crush. You merely smiled at him, pulling yourself off the wall and grabbing his arm.

“Come on,” you said, tugging him towards your room.

“W-what?” he blushed harder, quickly grabbing his bag as you pulled him along. “What about the… the living room?”

“My roommate is watching a movie in there with her boyfriend tonight,” you stated, omitting the fact that you asked her to occupy the space that night so you’d have an excuse to get him in your bedroom.

“Oh…” 

“It’s okay. My bed’s comfier anyway. Trust me,” you smirk over your shoulder, loving the fact that you could practically read what went through his mind in that moment.

That was the other thing you found yourself liking about Dave: you could read him like a book. Any time he was nervous, he fiddled with his hands. Any time he was stressed about class, he buried a hand in his hair roughly. And any time he was thinking dirty thoughts, those cute, pouty lips of his opened slightly and his eyes got all wide and round. Not to mention, he’d suck in a shaky breath. It was fucking endearing and horrifically sexy.

And he was doing it right then.

You turned over how you’d get your way as you pulled him into your room, though you knew it probably wouldn’t be hard. He obviously thought you were hot, and you still had plenty of time to do work on the speech before he’d leave.

You let go of him at last, shutting the door behind the both of you. You then shuffled over to your bed, sliding off your slippers before you got onto your bed, kneeling on the soft mattress. You patted the spot next to you, trying not to smile at the fact that he was looking at you as if he was thinking a little too hard about something else again. After a beat, though, he obeyed.

“Attaboy,” you mumbled, just to get another reaction out of him.

He cleared his throat, settling in uncomfortably. “So… Uh…”

“So…” you tilted your head in question, leaning in a little closer to him.

“Uh…” he gulped, looking down at you as you were mere inches from him. “Uh… We’re… Our topic is about killer whales, right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, blinking your lashes at him. “Guess we gotta figure out how we’re doing it, huh?”

“What?” he squeaked out.

You grinned a little, raising a brow. He sucked in a breath when he finally pulled his head out of the gutter.

“Oh. Right. Right, yeah. How to… how to do it,” he nodded, too quickly to be natural. “Sorry, I don’t know where my head’s at.”

“That’s alright. No worries,” you smiled sweetly, resting a hand on his thigh gently.

He stiffened up physically, and you could only imagine the same happened in his pants. You squeezed his leg for a little extra emphasis. 

“You okay?” you asked.

“Mm… Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He nodded a little, glancing briefly at your chest. You were in.

“Hey,” you said softly, rubbing up and down his leg. “You don’t need to act so shy. I don’t bite that hard.”

He blinked a few times, chewing on his lip. “I’m just… a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“Well… It’s just that… I mean that, that you’re–”

You chuckled to yourself. “I’m totally fucking with you, by the way.”

“What?” he asked, his voice high pitched.

“I said I’m fucking with you,” you repeated, sliding your hand up to his crotch. “Ooh. Someone’s excited, huh?”

“Uh…” he squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He paused, breathing heavy. “I don’t know.”

You laughed fully, moving your hand away again. He breathed out a sigh of relief, though you made sure to stop his relaxation in its tracks. You swung a leg over his hips, settling down onto his lap. He groaned, his hands grabbing at your thighs immediately.

“What are you doing?” he breathed out, clearly not protesting it.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for weeks, Lizewski. You can’t seriously be that oblivious,” you muttered before smashing your lips into his.

He let out a shuddering, whiny moan into your lips, kissing you back like he’d been dreaming of it. You hoped he had been. You nipped his lip, getting him to open up for you to slide your tongue against his. He gripped your thighs and hips, his hands greedy as they wandered over your body. 

“You’re so pretty,” he gasped out as you moved your lips across his cheek and down his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You hummed happily, moving your lips down his neck. You licked and sucked at his skin, drawing out a million little sounds from his lips. You nipped at him, then sucked hard on his skin, determined to leave a mark. He moaned your name, squeezing your ass with both hands, relishing in the feel of your body beneath your thin shorts.

“Shh, baby,” you mumbled, licking over the new mark on the base of his neck. “There. Looks real pretty.” “Shit,” he whimpered, trying like hell to move your hips over his.

“Desperate,” you whispered into his ear, obliging him with a roll of your body.

He moaned softly, needy and clearly wanting more. But you wanted to see how far you could push him. You rolled your hips again and again over the obvious erection straining against his baggy jeans. You couldn’t imagine it felt great, but all the same, he wasn’t complaining. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, his shaggy hair tickling the underside of your jaw.

“How’s it feel, baby?” you teased.

He merely groaned, staying silent for a few moments. “I… it kind of hurts. But please don’t stop.”

“Here,” you said, going up on your knees. “Pull your jeans down. It’ll feel better.”

He gulped, but quickly obliged your request. He clumsily pulled his jeans down his legs, clearly wanting and ready despite the fact that he looked like a deer in the headlights. You lowered yourself back down, grinding against him once more. He whined softly, guiding your hips with his eyes glued to where your bodies met through the fabric.

“Have you ever done anything like this?” you asked, a little amused at how excited he was.

“Only once… high school girlfriend…” he muttered in response. 

You chuckled softly. “Poor boy.”

He groaned, continuing to move you over his nearly-painful erection. You kissed down his neck, leaving a few marks for him to remember you by when he went to bed that night. He continued letting soft, pathetic noises fall from his lips, practically panting at this point.

“You getting close already, Lizewski?” you whispered, lips brushing his ear.

He merely nodded, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. He breathed into your neck, chasing his release. But you couldn’t have that.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked softly, winding your hand in his hair to give it a little tug.

He nodded his head, staring at you with a slack jaw.

“Okay, angel. What do you say?”

“P-please,” he whimpered softly.

You smiled to yourself, moving up on your knees and quickly working to shove his jeans down his thighs further. You paused, glancing up at him with a devilishly sweet smile.

“You think you can manage to pull those off the rest of the way so I can get my shorts off?” 

He nodded earnestly. “Yes. Yeah, I can do that.”

���Good boy,” you patted his leg, then rolled off of him to shimmy out of your shorts and panties, not wanting to wait any longer. 

You’d been patient for what felt like ages now, not jumping on the guy out of respect. But you were only a woman, and you could only put off your desires for so long: especially when he clearly wanted you just as much.

You kept your eyes on him as he pushed his briefs off, laying back on the bed with his chest heaving and hair messy around him. His cock was hard and ready and so gorgeous. He wasn’t massive or anything, but between the coloring and his shape, you were certain it was the prettiest you’d seen. The slightest curve pointing towards his tummy that was now partially exposed from his shirt riding up.

“Wow.”

“What?” He asked breathlessly, looking up at you with wide, wet eyes.

You smirked at his desperation. “You’re just really pretty like this.”

He whined softly, obviously trying not to look at your exposed lower half as you crawled towards him on the mattress again.

“I’m really glad we got paired up for this class,” you admitted, straddling his legs. “Don’t think I would’ve ever considered you otherwise. But now I can’t stop thinking about fucking you.”

“Fuck,” he sighed, his eyes falling shut. “Please.”

“You sound so sweet when you beg.”

“Please,” he repeated, looking at you in utter need, his hands sliding up your thighs and to your hips.

“Shh,” you whispered back to him, reaching down to stroke his firm cock. He practically squeaked, his hips thrusting into your hand. “You’re awfully responsive, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” he all but moaned in response. “God, you’re so pretty.”

“Thanks, honey,” you replied noncommittally, dragging his tip through your folds to gather the slick there. He let out a shaky groan, fingers tightening on your hips.

“Wait,” he exclaimed softly, shaking his head.

You raised a brow, stopping your movements. “You alright?”

“Yeah. No, I’m… I am so good, you have no idea,” he mumbled quickly, still staring at you. “I just… I’d really like to be on top. If that’s okay.”

You chuckled, then nodded, obliging his request. You rolled off of him, laying on your back with your head in the pillows.

“Only because you asked so nice.”

“Thank you,” he said, whiny and needy as he moved between your legs. He let out a breathy moan as he slid his tip against you again. “You’re so soft. Wet.”

“I know.”

“Mm…”

He moaned, nearly looking like he could cry, as he started pushing into you. His eyes were glued to where you swallowed the head of his cock easily, brows knit together as he breathed heavy. 

“God… fuck…” he whined, falling on top of you with his head in your neck, letting himself ease into you. You gasped softly when he finally bottomed out, feeling yourself gush around him. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good. So good.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you reply, carding your hand through his hair and tugging it softly.

He lifted his head to take off his glasses, setting them on your bedside table. 

“Thank you. For letting me do this,” he whimpered, his face lowering back to your neck. 

He started thrusting his hips against yours slowly, sucking and biting at your neck as you felt his cock drag along your walls almost teasingly. He breathed heavily, every little needy noise like music to your ears. You ran your nails across his back, wanting to mark him and make him remember you every waking moment of his life. 

“You feel perfect,” he squeaked out, his hips starting to snap harder against yours as he grew more needy chasing his release. “I’ve had a crush on you all year. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

You chuckled breathily, his body pinning yours to the mattress as his hand gripped the sheets above your head. He moaned at every thrust, practically using your body to get himself off. Not that you minded. It was unbelievably hot to see him so desperate for you that he almost couldn’t help the way he pushed himself into you. 

“I could cum inside you right now,” he moaned again, moving his head to kiss you once. “Promise I won’t. But I could… I’m so close.”

“You can cum anywhere you want.”

He groaned, kissing you again, all tongue and want. “Please… Take off the shirt. Wanna… your tits.”

“Yeah?”

“Please,” he begged, whining as he kept pushing into you. “Please. I’d do anything.”

“Okay, baby,” you complied with a self-satisfied smirk, tugging at your shirt until you were able to pull it over your head. You watched him as he eyes were drawn to your breasts bouncing in your bra before you pulled that off, too.

“Oh, god…”

“You like them, huh?”

“Love ‘em,” he groaned, gripping one of your tits roughly with his hand. “God.”

“Mm…” you moaned a little, back arching into his touch. “Fuck, I’m close, too.”

“Really?” His eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit. Okay. I’m… fuck, that’s so hot,” he said quickly, looking at you like you’d hung the stars just for him. “I– I’ll make you cum first. Promise.”

“Baby…”

“No, please. I wanna watch you,” he breathed out, eyes moving between your face and tits as he tried his damndest not to cum before you did.

You decided you’d be nice, just this once, and moved your hand between your bodies. You rubbed quick little circles around your clit as he kept railing you into the mattress, trying to get yourself to finish first. He whined as he kept going, squeezing his eyes shut as he clearly put in a lot of effort to hold himself off.

“You’re close?” he checked.

“Yeah. Really close. Almost there.”

“Mm…” he groaned, lowering his head and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

That did it.

You gasped, moaning his name as you clenched hard around his dick, soaking him in your release as he thrusted as fast as he could manage. Though you were left empty only a few seconds later as he pulled out, just in time to shoot his seed all over your bare chest. He groaned wantonly, stroking himself a little bit as he finished.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, voice high pitched and whiny. “Holy fuck. Fuck.”

“Yeah?”

He swallowed, mouth hung open as he tried catching his breath. “Uh huh.”

“You’re adorable,” you chuckled, watching as he sat down next to you, still trying to breathe normally again.

He nodded. “God damn.”

You reached for the tissues on your bedside table, wiping the cum off of your breasts as Dave fell back onto your bed in a combination of bliss and exhaustion. You chuckled at his actions, shaking your head.

“I think this makes our study sessions way more fun,” you offered after a moment.

Dave laughed breathlessly. “I think I’ll have to thank our professor.”

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[anyataylorjoys]

LAST NIGHT IN SOHO (2021) dir. Edgar Wright

[ikkyfics]

Divination

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “You two have an intertwined future,” the teacher says, her enigmatic smile deepening. “I see a boy… He’ll wear glasses, like his father.”

Warnings: just fluffy - a lovestruck and embarrassed James

Masterlist - Realization

The scent of incense hangs heavy in the stifling Divination classroom, where the heat wraps around you like an invisible cloak. The dim light of scattered candles in ancient holders gives the room a mysterious air, and thick velvet curtains block out any sign of the outside world. You’re seated beside James Potter, and between the two of you, at the center of the round table, a crystal ball rests silently, surrounded by a tattered book of Divination with yellowed pages.

It’s been at least half an hour since you both started staring at the crystal ball, unable to see anything at all. Frustrated, James was the first to give up, throwing himself into the far more entertaining task of making up ridiculous stories about the future he “saw” in the cloudy surface of the object.

“There! It’s as clear as day,” he says, dramatically pointing at the crystal ball with a mischievous grin. “You’re going to be the first professional Quidditch player to bring a hippogriff onto the field. And I’ll, uh… obviously become the greatest dragon tamer the world has ever seen.”

You burst into laughter, trying to keep a straight face as he gestures like he’s actually wrangling an invisible dragon. “Didn’t know your vision included being mauled by your own dragon,” you tease, and he chuckles, pushing his glasses up as he attempts to look offended.

You’re still laughing when you notice the professor’s presence beside your table. She seems to materialize out of the shadows, her intense gaze flicking between you and James. Your laughter dies in your throat, and James straightens in his chair, still with a trace of a grin on his lips.

“Enjoying yourselves, I see,” the professor says, her low voice reverberating in the quiet space. She leans slightly forward, observing the crystal ball for a few seconds before turning her gaze back to you. The pause is long, almost uncomfortable, and when she finally speaks, the room seems to hold its breath along with you.

“You two have an intertwined future,” she says, her enigmatic smile deepening. Her fingers brush lightly against your shoulder, a gesture almost maternal. “I see a boy… He’ll wear glasses, like his father.”

The silence that follows is deafening. It feels as though the entire world has frozen in that instant, the weight of her words hitting you like a gust of icy wind. When you finally summon the courage to glance at James, he’s already looking at you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and something else you can’t quite place.

“Well… that was… interesting,” he says at last, breaking the silence with a voice deeper than usual. He attempts to laugh, but it comes out nervous, and his hand automatically moves to his neck, ruffling his already messy hair.

“Interesting is one word for it,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady. But your heart is pounding so fast it feels impossible he can’t hear it.

For a moment that feels like an eternity, you hold each other’s gaze. James’s look is intense, almost unsettling, as though he’s trying to decipher something, like the future the professor mentioned is now written on your face.

“Our son, huh?” he finally says, his voice barely a whisper. He tries to smile, but it’s a hesitant one, laden with something that might be fear or anticipation. “Hope he gets your good sense. Two of me would be a disaster.”

You laugh, despite the tension, and the sound seems to ease the air between you. “And I hope he doesn’t inherit your knack for getting into trouble.”

He laughs too, and for a brief moment, everything feels normal again. But then the silence returns. James averts his gaze, staring at the crystal ball as if, suddenly, it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. You do the same, fixing your eyes on the open Divination book in front of you, though you can’t read a single word.

And then, at the same time:

“I was thinking that—” “Do you think she—”

The words overlap, making both of you stop instantly. You look at each other, startled, before James starts to laugh nervously. You can’t help but laugh too, covering your mouth with your hand as you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says, still chuckling, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “You go first.”

“No, you go,” you reply, the smile still playing on your lips.

“Alright, then.” He takes a deep breath, as if preparing for something big, but when he speaks, his voice comes out softer than you expected. “Do you think… she was serious?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you consider the question. “I don’t know. She seems so certain about everything, but… maybe it’s just one of those things she says to make an impression, you know?”

James nods, but his smile is small, almost uncertain. “Yeah, probably. I mean, she did say Peter would marry a Merpeople, didn’t she?”

You laugh again, the memory easing some of the tension. “And that Sirius would become Minister for Magic. He nearly cried from laughing so hard.”

“Yeah, that does put things in perspective.” He laughs too, but the silence that follows feels different this time. It’s not uncomfortable, but full of unspoken thoughts that seem to hang in the air between you.

“But what if…?” you begin, your voice so quiet you can’t believe you said it out loud.

James looks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he’s trying to figure out what you mean. “What if…?” he repeats, leaving the question hanging, and you feel your heart race.

“Oh, forget it,” you say quickly, laughing nervously. “It’s just the professor and her absurd prophecies. No reason to take it seriously.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, but something in his voice makes you think he’s not entirely convinced.

The silence returns, and you can’t help but let your mind wander. A little boy with James’s messy hair and a pair of glasses slipping down his nose comes to mind, and without meaning to, you smile. The image is so sweet it almost makes your heart ache.

“What are you smiling at?” James asks, and you realize he’s looking at you again, his head tilted slightly.

“Nothing,” you respond far too quickly, feeling heat rise to your face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he presses, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, but James’s smile is encouraging, even if he doesn’t realize it. “I was thinking about what she said. About… a boy. And I was imagining… he’d look just like you, with messy hair and those glasses.”

James blinks, as though your words caught him completely off guard, and you feel the urgent need to fill the silence before it gets awkward. “Not that I think that’s going to happen! It’s just… well, the idea is funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” he starts, but then stops, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away. When he speaks again, his voice is almost a murmur: “I think I’d… maybe I’d prefer a girl. Who looked like you.”

Time seems to stop. You’re sure your heart skips a beat, and the silence that follows is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

James’s eyes widen as if he’s just realized what he said. “I mean—” he begins, his voice an octave higher. “Not that… that’s not what I meant! I just… ah, never mind.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and it’s impossible to hold it back. “A girl who looks like me, huh?” you tease, and his embarrassment is so endearing you almost forget your own.

“Alright, you win,” he says, throwing his hands up in surrender, but the smile he tries to hide says more than any words could. “I think the professor got to us. We’re officially losing it.”

“Yeah,” you agree, laughing, but inside, you know something has changed. Because, as absurd as it might seem, the idea of a shared future with James doesn’t feel so impossible anymore.

[nyxvuxoa]

Aaron Taylor-Johnson as James Frey ⤷ A Million Little Pieces | dir. Sam Taylor-Johnson

[c0s-lettuce]

wonder - sergei kravinoff x reader

gender not mentioned, uses aspects from the movie but no actual spoilers

a/n: aaron taylor-johnson, what a man. i think this is the fastest i've written a fic after watching the movie/show. hope you enjoy reading! <3

word count: 1026

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of violence, minimal swearing

Sergei and his father have always had their differences. The patriarch would always prattle on about weakness and fear. It was exhausting and mostly certainly not something Sergei missed.

You were a weakness, though. Sergei was sure of this. He kept very few people in his life, and all were for good reason. You were the only exception. He ought to stay away from you, for your sake and his. But he could never bring himself to do so, no matter how hard he tried.

Initially, your relationship with Sergei was purely transactional. Your body for his, and he would be out of your hair soon after. It didn't take long for that to change. He knew he was beginning to grow attached, but he didn't care. He was sure the feeling was mutual.

You were like a balm for his soul, a remedy for the loneliness his line of work brought him. The only intimacy he had with other people was when he was driving sharp objects into the necks of his targets. His hunts were intense and chaotic, but they were something he knew well and was exceptionally good at.

Being intimate with you wasn't so different, except it was infinitely more beautiful. Sergei revelled in the way you trusted and desired him, in how you consumed each of his senses. And the way you fit against him made him wonder more than once whether the two of you were made for each other.

But there were days when he craved more than just your body. He would find himself longing for your gentle embrace and honeyed words. You offered him more affection than he deserved, more than whatever this casual arrangement called for. Yet you gave anyway, and he was all too eager to take.

He adored the feeling of your lips against his forehead and your fingers in his hair as he rested beside you, basking in the blissful state you would leave him in. He would rest his head on your chest, and your heartbeat would drown out the otherwise unbearable noises of your apartment building. And he would fall asleep in your arms.

Sergei was an enigma to you. When it came to his profession, both of you agreed that the less you knew, the better. It was strange, you thought. You were aware of his reputation. But he was so sweet with you, so vulnerable. Sometimes, it made you wonder what else he could be with you. It's then when you would stop your train of thought and join him in sleep.

He would always wake first. And as he looked upon your sleeping form, he would tell himself that now is the best time to leave. And he would at first, with no more than a lingering glance. But the glance lingered longer each time.

He immediately knew he made a mistake the day he decided to stay. There was a particular look in your eyes when you woke up and found him still next to you. Sergei couldn't quite place it. Was it relief? Amusement? Hope?

No, he wouldn't let himself think it was anything akin to love.

Either way, it was addictive. He vowed to never miss any opportunities to see it again.

But on this occasion, Sergei seeks you out after an especially gruelling hunt. He sleeps deeper and for longer than usual. A soft, high-pitched meow wakes him in the morning. He opens his eyes and sees that you're gone. The door is ajar, and your voice can be heard talking to someone on the phone. You sound irritated.

Sergei finally turns his attention to the small blob that has taken your spot in the bed. Sitting there is your cat, Suki, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Hello," he greets her, his voice rough as he readjusts to the waking world.

Suki meows again as if replying to him. Sergei cracks a small smile and props himself up on his elbow. He scoops Suki closer, and she happily snuggles up to him. He busies himself with giving her scratches and belly rubs as he waits for you.

You return to the bedroom soon enough, looking down at your phone with disdain. You sit down on the edge of the bed with your back facing Sergei, tapping away at the screen.

"Everything alright?" he asks you.

"Yeah," you say, "Just my work deciding to bother me on a Saturday morning."

"What do they want?"

"To remind me of deadlines. Don't worry, I'm very politely telling them to fuck off."

Sergei lets out a chuckle. "Alright, good."

Suki's purrs fill the silence as you finish typing your angry text message. You place your phone down with a huff and look over to see Sergei pampering your cat. The sight warms your heart.

"You know, she sits and stares at the front door for at least twenty minutes everytime you leave," you tell him.

Sergei looks up at you, amused. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think she loves you more than me," you reply.

Sergei laughs, looking back at Suki. "Is that right, киса? Do you love me?"

Again, she meows right on cue. You notice she's rather enthusiastic for a cat. Ignoring your daughter's betrayal, you lie back down beside Suki and her new dad. Your eyes fall closed, the comfort of sleep still tempting you.

"You got any plans for today?" Sergei asks after a moment.

"No," you answer, "Just hoping to relax."

He nods, but you don't see it. You also don't notice how he seems to be debating something with himself. After a few seconds, he makes up his mind.

"I'll make us breakfast then," Sergei says.

You open your eyes, surprised. He's never offered to do that before, let alone stayed long enough for you to offer it instead. When you turn to look at him, he's already getting up and heading to the door. Suki gets up after him, carelessly stepping over your stomach to follow him out of the bedroom.

As the pair disappear into the kitchen, you lie there in stunned silence, wondering what's gotten into Sergei. Though, you're definitely not complaining.

➸

[dearhargrove]

summary for all that he’s rough, you're soft.

word count 817

You're all over him the second he comes home. He's covered in blood, sweat and other substances — all from his most recent ‘hunt’.

And yet you're clinging to him, arms around his narrow waist and pretty smiling face pushed into his chest. He has soft sides to him, goofy ones, that usually only come out when he's with his brother Dimitri. But with you he finds himself uncaring, not masking any emotions whatsoever.

“You took longer than I thought.. had me worried.” It's a murmur into his skin and his large hands gently wrap around your waist in reassurance, “I am fine. Not a scratch.”

It's a lie and you both know it; he's bruised up and bloody in too many places for you to not be worried.

“Go, you need a shower.”

He obeys your command and does a quick playful bow, which makes you chuckle. As you're about to go back to your previous task of putting new sheets on the bed you feel yourself being lifted up and held to a firm chest. With a yelp you grab at the next best thing – in this case his shoulders.

“I think I deserve my girl in the shower, too.”

He grins and when he's in the bathroom he sets you down on the counter next to the sink, making it his task to carefully and slowly undress you, leaving you only in panties. When you're bare he momentarily stops in his tracks, eyes taking in your soft and unmarred skin.

“Never gonna let anything happen to you,” he suddenly promises, firmly gripping your thighs. Your pout from being manhandled turns into a soft expression and you hum knowingly, pecking his shoulder sweetly.

“I know.”

He stares thoughtfully for a moment longer, then takes his own pants off and gets into the shower to adjust the water temperature, holding out his hand to you when the water is warm.

You slide off the counter, take your panties off and grasp his hand, not fully able to wrap your fingers around his large palm and let him pull you under the stream of water.

His eyes are just as intense as always as he watches you get your hair soaked and body warmed up. Blindly reaching for your shampoo he makes a noise in the back of his throat before firm fingers begin to massage your shampoo into your scalp and hair carefully.

While the water washes away the suds you open your eyes again, adoring smile on your face. “Hi, handsome.”

He huffs in amusement and shortly taps under your chin.

The shower takes as long as it usually does when you share, him insisting to wash your hair and your body, then in turn huffing at being pampered himself. When you step out he has a steadying hand on your waist to prevent any accidents on the damp floor, already wrapping a soft towel around your body before you could even ask for one.

While he does your hair care for you, you focus on brushing your teeth and doing the little skincare you own — turning to grin at him with your face shiny with lotion and smelling of sugar and sweetness.

He pokes your side before brushing his own teeth, running his fingers through his curls and calling it a day.

“Sergei,” you pout, always quick to keep his skin from going dry as well as his hair. He sighs and bends down enough so you can reach, already accustomed to your little routine, as you lotion his face and put some hair oil into his curls.

“All done.” He hums and looks at you with all the adoration in the world mirrored in his blue eyes. He's still shirtless, only in his boxers – and of course wearing the necklace – while you're in your pajamas, fuzzy socks, slippers and a soft bathrobe.

He can't help but count himself the luckiest man alive; living a life as comfortable as this, no matter the side of brutality, with a girl like you waiting for him at home every day.

Acting on his desire he easily picks you up and carries you pressed to his firm chest into bed, careful as he lays you down.

“I'm being spoiled,” you giggle and he melts just a little further, letting your hands pull him down onto the mattress so you can cuddle into his side and use his chest as a pillow.

“Always need to spoil my girl,” he muses, fingers spread on your lower back.

You smile into his skin and trace invisible shapes on his firm abs, already halfway into a nap. You just barely hear it when he mumbles an ‘I love you’ and kisses the top of your head, but it makes you smile and squeeze impossibly closer to him.

[lenacosse]

not to be dramatic but this interview saved my life

[eefos]

Me watching Kraven the Hunter for the plot

The plot :

[vitori4na]

Aaron Taylor-Johnson in Madrid for the "Kraven The Hunter" Photocall

[tokkiwrites]

summary: you own a local flower shop, and with each passing day, you notice the same man come byㅡ watching. you try to forget about him and try your hand at dating, but you didn't know you were his from the first day he laid his eyes on you. tags: obsessive/stalker!sergei kravinoff , afab reader, mention of violation, short mention of murder, mean sergei, degradation, unprotected p in v (spooky!), head m receiving, breath play, creampie, slight breeding kink. /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! the last fic is her, wowza! i had so much fun writing all of these for you guys, n i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did. this has around 4.48k words, so it's the longest of the bunch. i loved the premise. >:) obsessive kraven and flower shop owner reader. remember, this is all fiction, and i dont encourage behavior like that in real life!!! anyway, maybe i will make it into a series. not betad!

It started in April. You remember because the daffodils had just come in, their yellow heads still stiff from the cold. You’d been wiping down the counter, lost in your routine, when you first noticed him— standing across the street, his eyes fixed on your window. He wasn’t a regular, not even someone you’d ever seen around town, but something about the way he stood there, hands buried in the pockets of his worn coat, made you pause.

He hadn’t come in that day, just lingered for a while before moving on. But the image of him stayed with you long after—broad shoulders, sharp features, his face caught in the shadow of his collar like he was hiding something.

That was six months ago.

Now, it’s October. The light is thinner, weaker, as you arrange chrysanthemums in small clusters. You catch sight of him again today, across the street like always. It’s not every day, but often enough that you’ve come to expect it. Sometimes, you wonder what he does in the moments between his appearances, where he goes. Why he always walk past but never stops.

You try to shake it off, focusing on the customer in front of you. An older man, looking for a dozen roses, but his words don’t quite register. You’ve seen the way Sergei watches the shop, the way his gaze follows people inside, lingering too long when you talk to other men. You shouldn’t care, but the thought of it—of him—sends a strange warmth flooding through you.

The old man clears his throat, and you snap back to reality, managing an awkward smile as you finish wrapping the bouquet.

“Thanks,” you mumble, handing it over.

Outside, Sergei is gone.

It’s three days later when the bell above your door finally rings, and he steps in. The air shifts with his presence, something heavy and deliberate in the way he moves toward the counter. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t soften the rough edges of his voice when he finally speaks.

“Do you have anything that lasts longer than a week?” he asks, his gaze holding yours in a way that makes it hard to breathe. His accent is faint, buried under years of elsewhere, but it’s there, just enough to make the question sound more like a demand.

You blink, trying to remember what he said. “Uh, the lilies,” you manage. “They—um, they hold up pretty well.”

He nods, eyes shifting to the bouquets behind you, though you can’t shake the feeling that he’s still looking at you, not the flowers. He doesn’t say anything. he just lets the silence stretch between you until you turn to gather a few stems. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re here a lot,” you say quietly, not sure why you decided to speak now, but needing to fill the space. “I mean… passing by.”

Sergei’s lips twitch, just enough to show the hint of a smile, but there’s nothing warm about it. “I walk this way often.” You nod, though the answer feels hollow, like it’s only part of the truth.

As you wrap the lilies, you feel his eyes on you, studying you, and something about it is thrilling in a way you don’t want to admit. When you finally hand him the flowers, your fingers brush his, just for a second. His skin is rough, cold, and the touch leaves a shiver running up your spine.

“Thank you,” he says, but there’s something strange in his voice, like the words are unfamiliar to him. Then, without another word, he’s gone.

By November, you’ve almost convinced yourself that it’s nothing. Sergei’s just a quiet man, someone who happens to walk by your shop. You try not to think about him too much, though that’s easier said than done. The men who come into the shop are kind, sweet even. You’ve gone out for coffee a few times, tried to meet their eyes, and pretend you felt something for them. But it never lasts.

None of them leave you breathless like Sergei does with just a glance.

And that’s the problem. You don’t know him. You know nothing about him, except the way he makes you feel—on edge, watched, but also... wanted. It’s confusing, this push and pull, this desire for someone you barely know. And it doesn’t help that, whenever you catch his gaze, there’s something dark in it. Something possessive. Something that makes you wonder what he’s thinking when he sees you talking to other men.

it's like you already belong to him; and you know it.

It’s late November when it happens again. The first cold snap has set in, the chill making your breath cloud the window as you adjust a vase of poinsettias. The shop is quiet, and you’re alone, lost in thought, when the door opens and Sergei steps in once more. His presence fills the space, the air somehow feeling heavier, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

“I’ll take the white ones,” he says, gesturing toward the lilies. His voice is lower this time, rougher, like he’s been thinking too much or not sleeping enough.

You wrap them in silence, aware of his eyes on you again. The tension between you feels thicker today, almost unbearable. As you hand him the bouquet, you can’t stop yourself from asking, “Do you ever buy these for someone?”

Sergei’s eyes flicker, narrowing slightly. For a moment, you think he won’t answer, but then he leans forward just a fraction, his voice low and controlled.

“No."

It’s just a word, but it wraps itself around you, a confirmation of something unspoken. You look down, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, and when you glance up again, he’s already turning to leave.

“See you soon,” he mutters before the door closes behind him, and you realize that you want to.

It’s late December now, and the snow has started to fall, gentle flakes that coat the windows of your little shop. The poinsettias are in full bloom, their deep reds and whites filling the space with a festive calm. But your mind isn’t on flowers today. It’s been difficult to focus lately—especially after last week.

That was the day Sergei saw you cry.

You hadn’t meant for anyone to see. The shop had been empty, the late afternoon light casting long shadows as you sat on the stool behind the counter, head in your hands. You’d just finished arguing with Mark, a guy you’d been seeing for a few weeks. Nothing serious, but you thought maybe it could be, until he said something that cut deeper than you expected. Something cruel, dismissive, about how you were "too quiet," how it was "hard to keep a conversation going with someone who never has anything to say."

You hadn’t even responded, too stunned by the way he looked at you, like your softness was some kind of weakness. So you let him leave, biting your lip until the door closed behind him. It wasn’t until later, when you were alone, that the tears came.

Sergei must have been watching from across the street, unnoticed as usual, though this time he didn’t just walk by. You hadn’t seen him enter, hadn’t heard the bell chime, but suddenly he was there, standing in the corner of the shop. Silent. His eyes were on you, sharp and steady, watching the tears slip down your cheeks.

For a moment, he said nothing. Didn’t ask if you were okay, didn’t offer any words of comfort. He just stood there, his expression unreadable. But something about the way he looked at you made you shiver—not from the cold, but from the feeling that he liked seeing you like this. Vulnerable. Soft and broken, just for him to witness.

You’d wiped your face quickly, embarrassed, pulling yourself together before he could say anything. And then, just as silently as he’d appeared, Sergei had left, the door closing softly behind him. You didn’t know what to make of it. The way his presence lingered after he was gone, like a shadow that clung to the edges of your thoughts.

It wasn’t until a few days later, after another argument with Mark, that things turned. Mark had come back, all apologies and excuses, but something about the way he spoke to you still felt off. He’d asked you to meet him after work, so you did, more out of habit than desire. The conversation hadn’t gone well. He was frustrated, saying things he didn’t mean, but the look in his eyes as he spoke made you flinch. It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist—harder than he should have—that the tears started again. This time, not out of sadness, but fear.

What you didn’t know was that Sergei had been watching. He always seemed to know when you needed to be seen, always appeared at the edges of your world when you thought you were alone. Later, you would wonder how he knew where to find Mark. Whether he followed him, waited, or if it was just luck that they crossed paths that night after you’d gone home, shaken and silent. All you knew was that Mark never came back.

You didn’t see the violence, didn’t hear the crack of bone or the dull thud of a body hitting the ground, but when the news came days later—a body found in the river, no suspects—you felt the air in your lungs freeze. You tried to convince yourself it was a coincidence, tried to push away the gnawing suspicion in your gut. But when Sergei came into the shop the next day, silent and cold as always, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew. That he had done something.

It was snowing again when he walked in, the cold biting at the edges of the door before it clicked shut behind him. You were alone, rearranging the poinsettias for the third time that day, trying to distract yourself from the unease settling in your chest.

“You alright?” His voice was low, almost a growl, breaking the silence. His accent was sharper today, more pronounced, as if he was trying to draw you in with the weight of his words.

You didn’t look up right away. “I’m fine,” you whispered, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the wooden floor, and you felt the tension settle over you like a second skin. When you finally met his gaze, there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch. A darkness. Something more than just quiet observance. Something possessive.

“Mark,” he said slowly, testing the name in his mouth like it was something he had already chewed up and spat out. “He won’t bother you anymore.” You blinked, confused, the words hanging in the air between you like a dense fog. He wasn’t asking. He was telling you. And in that moment, you understood. “What did you do?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from him.

Sergei didn’t answer right away, just watched you in that way he always did—intense, unblinking. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you expected, but no less terrifying.

“I did what needed to be done.”

Your heart raced, the realization sinking in. You should have felt scared, horrified even, but instead, you felt... safe. Like, in some twisted way, Sergei was protecting you, looking after you in ways no one else had.

It was wrong. You knew it was wrong. But standing there, in that small shop filled with delicate flowers and fragile stems, you felt something stir inside you—a recognition of the dark and dangerous things hiding just beneath the surface of his calm exterior. You should have told him to leave. You should have been afraid. But instead, you took a breath, nodded slowly, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Sergei’s lips twitched again, that almost-smile that never quite reached his eyes. Then, without another word, he came closer, the cold air from outside still clinging to him. "Is it wrong I want to kiss you right now?" he asks, voice rough, like the question wasn't even thatㅡ it was undeniable.

You couldn't speak. The words stuck in your throat as your pulse quickened. You should say something, anything. You should step back, put distance between you, but you didn't. Instead, your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of which seemed capable of grounding you.

Sergei's gaze flickered to your lips, his hand lifting slightly, like he might reach out and touch you but was holding himself back, his restraint barely visible under the surface. There was something raw in his voice, something that made your chest tighten because you weren't sure if it was wrong- or if it was exactly what you wanted too.

But it was dangerous. He was dangerous. You knew that now. You'd felt it from the start, Still, you stood frozen, much like the trees outside. You swallowed hard, finally finding your voice, though it was barely a whisper. "I don't know if it's wrong..."

His fingers brushed your jaw, slow, deliberate, as though testing your reaction. And then, so bitter, he murmured, “Is it wrong that… I want to see you cry, but not by the hands of others?”

The words stood there between you, filling the space with something you couldn’t quite name. Your breath caught in your throat, a sharp, involuntary intake, the meaning of what he said settled over you like ice. You should have felt fear—anyone else would have—but instead, there was only that pulse of something in your core you couldn't ignore.

His thumb traced the edge of your cheek, lingering near your lips, his eyes still locked on yours. You tried to swallow the sudden lump in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest, but the intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to move or even think clearly. it all felt hazy.

You should step back, should pull away. This was crossing a line, a line you hadn’t even realized existed until now. But you didn’t. You stood there, the tension between you thick enough to suffocate, his words playing over and over in your mind until he spoke again.

Sergei’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. There was a heat there, something primal and raw, something he wasn’t hiding anymore. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer, yet somehow even more dangerous.

“I don’t want anyone else to hurt you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip, “but I want to see you break—because of me.” The confession should have terrified you, should have sent you running. instead, you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your body betraying the warning signs flashing in the back of your mind.

“Why?” you whispered, voice trembling. Sergei’s eyes flickered with amusement, as if he was mocking you. “Because,” he said slowly, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to make your breath hitch, “I want to know how far you’ll let me go.”

You could feel the space closing in, feel the weight of his words sinking deeper. It was a game nowㅡ his game, one you weren’t sure you knew how to play, but it was too late to back out. And somehow, some part of you didn’t want to.

you'd let him do it all. anything.

You stared at him, unsure of whether you should push him away or pull him closer. But the truth, the part you couldn’t admit to yourself, was that a twisted, hurt part of you wanted to let him see you break, wanted to be undone by him and only him. "Please kiss me." you manage to pull out from the pit of your soul, your senses filled by his smell mixed with the ones in your flower shop.

In one swift, consuming motion, he kissed you. It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It was intense, fierce, like he'd been holding back for too long. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger that matched the heat rising in your chest. You felt his fingers thread into your hair, pulling you closer, as though he needed to feel you against him, needed to claim this moment.

And in that instant, all the fear, all the uncertainty, melted away. There was nothing left but him.

For a few seconds, he pulls away from the kiss, staring at your puffy lips and blushed cheeks, like he’s studying the effect he has on you, savoring it. "I want to have you crumble through my fingers and then build you up just to have you kneel at my feet again." It’s twisted, wrong, but it lights something inside of you, making you drip with arousal.

"You want this." he breathes against your lips, "I can see it." Sergei leans in, nose now flush to your neck as he huffs a deep inhale. "Smell it." you can feel him smile against the skin of your shoulder, palms riding down to cup your hips, grip not easing. "Feel it." he draws a long strip from the crook of your neck up to your ear, earning a soft moan from your parted lips. "Let me ruin you."

It wasn't a request but a demand, one that you were far too deep to deny him. the panties you had on were already soaked, and your hair stood up on end as Sergei trailed his calloused fingertips down your back. "Please..." it sounded so pathetic, weak, but that made him desire this even more. he listened to your pleads in no time, practically ripping the clothes off of you. the cold air hit your body, making it sting, nipples now pebbled. this was never something you imagined could happen, you fully naked and him fully clothed, scanning you as if you were his next full course meal.

"Kneel." this catches you off guard, but he's quick to notice the lack of response so he takes it in his own hands to make you obey. He roughly pushes you down to your knees, tapping the top of your head to look up at him. he's fast, unapologetic and carnal. he's what you're notㅡ what you need.

"Say you're sorry." The word cuts through the air, sharp and commanding, but you couldn’t understand why, it left you dumbfounded and for a split second, you just stare at him, breathless, unsure. "F-for what?" Sergei, ever attuned to your hesitation, doesn’t wait for you to respond. His patience isn’t one of his virtues, and you’re learning that quickly. he tuts, rolling i strand of your hair through his digits. “What do you mean ‘for what?’” he repeats slowly, his voice dripping with disdain, as though you should already know. “How many guys have you seen since you met me?”

Your stomach tightens at the accusation, the memory of each fleeting, empty attempt at connection flashing in your mind—Mark, and the others who never seemed to fill the space Sergei occupied without even trying. He leans down, his voice dropping to a near whisper, but there’s nothing soft about the way his words cut into you. “Even though you knew—felt—that you belonged to me?” it makes you realize you’d never stood a chance.

"Say it." you can feel the truth claw its way out. “IㅡI’m sorry.” a satisfied gleam flashing in his eyes. But the hunger remains. He isn’t done, not yet.

“Good girl,” your tummy flips as he says those words, a soft smile creeping upon your face. that feeling dissipates quick as you hear the buckle on his pants come undone and with a swift motion his zipper coming down.

"Show me how sorry you are." Sergei bites, taking out his hard-on and letting it spring free. your eyes widened at the sight. you'd never seen something so bigㅡ it was intimidating, but the churn in your stomach pushed you closer, slowly wraping your rosy lips around the tip. "yeah, like that. i wanna see you choke on my cock, c'mon." he says before thrusting deep in your throat, "Maybe if you weren’t such a needy whore.." he drags out "I would've fucked that pretty pussy like you wanted me to. But you don't deserve it. Not yet. You need to know who you belong to." he snaps his hips, the tip of his dick promptly hitting the back of your esophagus, drool and tears already dripping down your face.

for a moment he stops, and you feel him pull out a little bit, leaving only half of his shaft inside of your mouth, two of his fingers pinching your nose, cutting off your air supply. he was toying with you. "what if i keep you like this? make you sit like this, unable to breathe at all, with my cock down your throat... get you all dizzy and stupid." it was so sweet the way he said such bad things.

tears well up in your eyes, mind spinning as your heartbeat picks up, yet his hips don't budge and the pinch on your nose strengthens. "Look at me." and you do, all teary eyed and fucked out. Sergei's chest heaves up as he mutters a low 'God.', his other palm coming up to wipe your tears away. "You're so pretty like this." he lets go of your nose and you finally take in a big gasp of air just as he pulls back and burries his cock deep in your throat again making you gag. "So pretty when you cry."

his moves are deliberate, large palms on both sides of your head as his hips snap. drool pools from your mouth, falling onto your exposed thighs. you try to hold onto his legs for a little stability, but it was all too disorienting, so you were left at his mercy. with a few more harsh thrusts, he comes ropes down your throat and onto your tongue with a loud groan. "Swallow. All of it." You obey, the salty liquid now all gone from your mouth.

"Bend over the counter." you swiftly comply, scrambling to your feet. obliging his orders, you bend over the counter that still had a few petals scattered here and there, bare ass and cunt on full display. "mm.." sergei licks his lips before palming the small of your back "so pretty for me."

you completely shattered under his touch, his fingertips drawing small fires that spread through you in clusters, desperate whines escaping past your swollen lips. "please..." he roughly grabs you by the back of your head, leaning in to talk directly into your ear. "did i say you can talk?" you shake your head no, shuddering as you feel Sergei's beard rub against your pebbled skin.

pushing back your hips in gripe, you manage to get your face unwaveringly pressed to the countertop. "Don't be greedy now." With that, he nimbly plunged two fingers into your mouth, making you gasp. "Suck them like you did my cock." that's all you needed to hear, fleetly wrapping your lips around his thick fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue around them like there was no tomorrow.

pushing the fingers deeper, he wins a muffled gag, your tongue pressed flush against them. "yeah, good little whore." your walls were twitching around nothing, that familiar warm wetness spreading between your thighs that were parted by Sergei's knee. "Need'a prep youㅡ"

"No! pleaseㅡ hurry.."

he laughs, almost mocking you. "fuck, I'll tear right through you, little flower." Without any warning, he flips you over, fisting his shaft, aligning it with your fluttering entrance. "Filthy girl." inhaling a sharp breath, your muscles tense up as he plunges inside of your wetness all at once, with no warning. you writhe in pain for a bit, tears already spilling from the corner of your glossy eyes.

"Look at you swallowing me in." he groans, sinking his fingernails into the plush of your skin "c'mon, tell me you're sorry for being such an attention whore. apologize so i don't kill every man who looked your way." it was all so wrong, so dirty and vile, but it was making your tummy churn in excitement and blood pulse through your veins like nothing else. you felt so insane for liking the ideas Sergei put into your head, but you loved feeling insane as long as it was for him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so s-orry, pleaseㅡ" you moan as he drills deep into you, back flush to the cold counter. "Look at me. Look me in the eyes and apologize." he was so stoic, like he wasn't even destroying your insides right that moment. more tears fall from your eyesㅡ pleasure, fear, actually apologetic tears. you didn’t know which it was. but they fell like pearls. "I'm so-rry, 'm sorry, so sorry.." you were breathless, repeating those same words over and over again, as Sergei sped up his movements, your legs now closed together over one of his shoulders as he fucked into you with no remorse. "Shitㅡ fuck, 'm gonna come. gonna come so deep inside and make you keep it there, make you go to work with my come inside of you, fuck, you'd like that?"

"P-lease...pleaseㅡ! " With a loud plead, you reach your high, walls tightening around Sergei's shaft, causing him to growl. you were left shaking, thighs uncontrollably wriggling in the mans tight hold. with a few more pumps, he paints your walls with warm, white ribbons, panting soft 'you're mine's into the crook of your neck.

you cling to him, breathing in his scent as his seed slowly drips out from within you. you hear him hum before placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "my little flower."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave lizewski x fem!reader

KINKTOBER 2024

warnings: SMUT - 18+ sub!dave, dom!reader, handjobs, praise, oral (m receiving), insecurities, punishment

~ thank you @corpsebridemepls for the prompt 💗 ily ~

There was nothing you loved more than watching Dave fall apart for you.

He'd been in one of his moods this evening, his head hung low as he chewed on his lip and pretended like he wasn't sending you the most pathetic, needy, puppy dog eyes you have ever seen. Frankly, he was begging for your attention and so you happily provided him with it.

"Now shush," you warn as you sit on your knees behind him, heels against your ass, naked breasts pressed against his back as you lean your chin on his shoulder. You can see the tears glistening in his eyes from his reflection in the full-body mirror you've moved in front of your bed.

You have his heavy cock resting in your hand as you glide your thumb teasingly over the tip, watching as his pre-cum dribbles onto your palm. 

"Messy boy," you whisper into his ear, biting on his earlobe as he whimpers. 

You watch as Dave's eyes flutter shut from the stimulation and the embarrassment and you squeeze his cock, causing his thighs to clench and his eyes to fly open again. "M'sorry," he hurries to say, blinking rapidly as he watches himself in the mirror.

"What did I tell you, baby?"

"Keep your eyes on the mirror," Dave repeats your words instantly. 

"And why is that?" 

He lifts his hips to meet your hand as you stroke him slowly, kissing down his neck. He's doing his best to look at himself, his earlier insecurities biting him in the ass as he tells you what you'd ordered him to say, "Because I'm a p-pretty boy a-and I deserve to know it."

Dave sounds embarrassed and you lick a stripe up his neck, your hand moving faster. You look at him, catching his gaze in the mirror, and tilt your head teasingly. He looks like a blushy, desperate mess. His cock is twitching and you can tell he wants to come already. 

You won't make it that easy for him.

"You know I hate nothing more than when my cute, adorable, handsome baby thinks so badly of himself," you whisper, sounding stern. 

Dave nods, biting down on his lip to stifle a moan. 

"And d'you know why I hate it so much?"

He can't help the groans that escape his lips as he shakes his head. 

"Because it makes me sad to think you can't see yourself like I see you," you praise and slowly lift yourself from behind him, nipples grazing his bare back, and Dave shivers. You walk around and position yourself on your heels again, your hands spreading his thighs.

"Do you like making me sad?"

Dave whimpers. "No- no—"

You look at his dick and smile. "I love you so much, my handsome boy."

You lean down and kiss the tip, sensing his shiver. Dave looks down at you and clenches his hands in the sheets. You look back up and catch his gaze, licking up his cock and then humming in disapproval. 

"Now, I want you to look at yourself while I suck you off. Look at how pretty your expressions are for me, watch yourself fall apart and see how gorgeous you are, can you do that for me?" You gently suck his tip, teasing him as you pull away, "and every time you feel yourself becoming close, I want you to tell me how damn pretty you are, understand? Gotta make sure you understand never to speak that way about yourself," you finish with a hum and listen to Dave's poor whimper as you take his cock in your mouth. 

Hopefully, this helps the message sink in. 

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[queers-gambit]

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 [ Bunny ], 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

[moonlightspencie]

honey, i’m home

Description: Tangerine misses his girl after a long job.

Pairing: Tangerine x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, oral (f!recieving), p in v, somno (implied mutual consent)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: not proofread bc i didn’t wanna

Tangerine slid his key into the lock, turning it slowly with a click. Then the deadbolt above it, extra careful to make it silent.

He pushed the door open, padding in as softly as he could, not even bothering to shut it until he’d disarmed the alarm system just beyond the entrance. As soon as he heard the tiny beep that indicated the alarm was off, he closed the door, locking it again. He reset the alarm, then turned to toe off his shoes and hang up his jacket.

He glanced around the home, noting that everything had been shut off for the night, save for a salt lamp in the living room. He peeked around the corner of the hallway, seeing nothing but a tiny bit of light peeking out from under the bedroom door. Probably her diffuser, he thought to himself.

He tiptoed down the hallway, breathing a little heavier with each step closer to the door at the end. He put his hand on the knob, gripping it gently as he turned it, opening the door. He was careful to go slowly as to not make a sound since the door could tend to get a bit creaky.

He stepped inside the room as soon as he could fit from behind the door, smiling to himself a little as he saw the diffuser running, filling up the room with the smell of lavender.

He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes drifted to the bed, and the woman in it. He almost groaned seeing her half-covered by the blankets in the nightgown he loved so much. She looked so pretty and peaceful like that, her chest rising and falling slowly with every breath.

He tugged on his tie, loosening it a little before fully pulling it off. He set it on a nearby dresser. Then, he pulled off his vest, leaving it with the tie.

He walked closer to the bed, careful to stay quiet as he pushed up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt. He reached forward as soon as he got close enough, slowly pulling the covers off of her body. His eyes trailed the top of the comforter as it revealed her to him, inch by inch. Her soft, white nightgown draped over her chest and stomach. Her panties on display from where the gown had ridden up. Her plush thighs, and the rest of her pretty legs. All for him.

He let out a breath, palming himself through his trousers, hard just from looking at her. He slowly crawled onto the mattress, carefully pushing her legs apart.

He kept an eye on her face as his hands moved up her legs and got a hold of her baby blue panties, pulling them slowly down her legs, tossing them across the room. He groaned softly, his eyes drawn immediately to her perfect cunt.

“Fuck,” he muttered gently, lowering himself down between her legs.

He started kissing up her thighs, sucking the supple skin into his mouth every few kisses. If he could died between her legs, he was sure he’d die a happy man.

His mouth trailed up further and further until his lips were ghosting over hers, breathing in her scent. She was already a little wet, and he was determined that it was because, even in her sleep, she knew he was nearby. He pressed a soft, open mouth kiss to her cunt, wanting to feel the silky flesh on his lips more than anything.

He swallowed after the kiss, feeling totally wrecked by her already. He reached his hand up, sliding two fingers between her folds before opening her up, licking a long strip from her hole to her clit. He moaned into her, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth, his cheeks hollowed out. He focused his tongue on her clit, his fingers sliding to her entrance, teasing around the hole before sliding one in.

He swore he could pass out as he heard her let out a breathy moan, slowly starting to wake up. He smiled against her, curling his finger inside of her, relishing the feeling of her walls, soft and spongy, against his skin. He ground his hips against the bed, needing to get some kind of friction with how painfully hard he felt.

“Tan…?” she mumbled softly, her back arching off the bed a little.

“Hey, m’love. I’m home,” he said, his voice reverberating through her pussy.

She moaned softly, her hand immediately moving to tangle in his hair. He smiled, licking her softly before he slightly lifted his head up.

“Hope you don’t mind, darlin’. Couldn’t help myself with you laying here all pretty. I missed ya,” he said, watching her face.

She shook her head. “Don’t mind. Please don’t stop.”

He smirked. “Glad to oblige ya, love.”

He moved back in, kissing her leaky cunt once again before sitting up on his knees. She watched him with hooded eyes as he started undoing his belt.

“It’s been too long,” he muttered, undoing the button on his trousers, zipping them down.

“Too long,” she nodded, her eyes on his hands as he pushed the material down his thighs.

He didn’t even bother taking it all off, pushing down his briefs next, letting his cock spring free. They rested near his knees as he dragged the head of his cock through her folds, groaning softly.

“M’fuckin’ sensitive. I think my cock might’ve missed you more than I did,” he gritted out, pulling her hips forward.

He could have cum on the spot from the sound she made as he pushed his tip inside of her, soft and needy and fucking desperate. He leaned himself over her body, propping himself up on his forearm as he pressed into her, kissing her temple.

“Love you, darlin’.”

“I love you.”

He smirked at her voice, snapping his hips against hers, his cock buried to the hilt. She moaned, gripping hard onto his arm as he started fucking her into the mattress, no longer worried about being so gentle with her.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned into her ear.

He relished in the feeling of her walls squeezing him, too tired to keep herself relaxed for him. He knew he wouldn’t last long like this, but he didn’t expect to anyways. He hadn’t gotten to properly fuck her in almost a month: he didn’t care if he came right away. He just needed to be inside of her.

“Come on, love,” he grunted, his hand moving between their bodies to rub her clit harshly.

She whimpered, holding onto him like her life depended on it as he brought her to the edge. He moaned into her ear, kissing down her neck sloppily.

“Fuck,” she whined, her body starting to tense up.

Tangerine groaned loudly. “That’s it, baby.”

He practically whimpered as she clenched down around him, cumming hard on his cock. Her walls pulsed, drawing him dangerously close to his own climax. He put it off as long as he could, wanting to fuck her through her release, but he could only do so much.

“Shit, baby,” he grunted, pulling out just in time to make a mess of her stomach, his hips jutting into his hand as he finished. “Fuck.”

He looked down at her body, her pussy soaked and messy, her tummy not much different.

“God, you’re pretty like this,” he said softly, leaning back on his knees to look at her. “Messy girl.”

She whined softly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more, love,” he smiled softly, brushing his hair away from his face. “Promise I’ll fuck you proper tomorrow morning.”

He leaned down to kiss her lips once, determined that he wouldn’t be taking another job for at least six months.