#bullet x reader

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

What Spending Time With Them Would Be Like-Blazblue X Reader

A Little something that I thought up after I took a nap

With Nine, it would be quiet. She would be reading or seemingly doing so while dozing off, her head finding a resting spot on your body. It would also be quite warm with her. Not to the point of it being sweltering but more of a comfortable heat that seems to eat at your will to move and think, calling you to close your eyes and rest for a moment, to simply enjoy this feeling.

With Kokonoe, it would be filled with the quiet hum of electricity from the many computers and machines running tests and simulations. She would be curled up in her chair as she watched you like a hawk, her feline eyes never leaving you, reflecting a sense of curiosity that was typically reserved for the things she did not understand. There would be few words spoken between the two of you.

With Bullet, it would be filled with the sound of her humming a tune and her needle going through cloth. She never had as much time to enjoy her hobby as she wished, but what little she did was nice. Especially when you were near her as she did it. Even if the two of you were doing something entirely different from one another, the connection was still extremely nice to feel.

With Makoto, it would be filled with Makoto’s laughter and joy. Whether it be a match of lacrosse or the two of you sitting around and talking, she will always find a way to make the both of you smile. She will hold you close to her and tell you the silliest and funniest things she has seen or heard. All to see you smile.

With Noel, it would be filled with the sound of pages turning. Noel loves to read and to write but you are the only one to ever see what she makes. She made sure to pick out a book that both of you would like. It was perhaps her favorite thing to do with you. To simply lay down on the bed with a book between the two of you, quietly enjoying the other’s presence.

With Litchi, it would be filled with the soft rings of wind chimes and the sound of tiles being placed on a board. Even Litchi had her hobbies, and by far Mahjong had to be her favorite of them. Especially when she got to tease you until you were red in the face. Perhaps she should go a bit easier on you, then again, perhaps not.

With Tsubaki, it would be filled with her quietly singing a song as she painted. A barely audible serenade for only you to hear. All she asked for in payment, was that you sat near her and listened, allowing her to soothe whatever nerves you were feeling.

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Y/n: Sure!

Y/n: Whats your favorite color?

Tangerine, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?

[lenacosse]

not to be dramatic but this interview saved my life

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

FAVOURITISM.

tangerine x fem!reader

wc. 1956 summary. tangerine was put out of work following the events of an accident. as a result, he created his own business, applying all of his knowledge. you work as a secretary cross technical assistant for him and working very closely to the big bad boss catches the eyes of your peers. one day he notices a change in your workwear — proving to you, he’s been paying a lot more attention than you originally thought. boss x secretary. disclaimer. the images at the bottom are just a reference of what I picture the reader wearing. they are not a reflection of how I write or see yn (colour and body type) it’s merely a way to show you what I envisioned

MY 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY! it’s only right that I write for tan seeing as it all started with him xx also a big big loving thank you to @pretty-little-mind33 for the idea and brainstorming with me. literally would not have done this without her <33

[ ⋆.˚ 𖥔˚ READ PART 2 HERE ]

⎯ ☆ ⎯

It wasn’t often that you’d find yourself not looking forward to work — feeling anxious to get in. Your love for what you do always seeming to overshadow any discomfort.

For the last several months, you’ve been working as a technical assistant cross secretary for your boss, Tangerine. No one knew of his real name, and you were starting to think that’s the way it’ll always be. 

Last night after your shift, you were brought to HR for an unexpected meeting, being called up on a dress code violation. Multiple complaints made around the office about your bright tights and flowy shirts, being told that it was ‘unfit for work’ and a ‘distraction.’ You knew you weren’t exactly well liked around the office — the sneers and scowls made your way making that evident. But never did you think they would go so far out of their way to complain about you. 

Their dislike for you felt territorial — judgy eyes always seeming to follow you as you attend to the needs and wants of your boss. The attention you gain from the broody, grumpy man in charge, simply asks and tasks you agreed to in your job description. The repetitive calls for your name only ever consisting of tea requests or computer help. It left you feeling confused and isolated, constantly wondering why they hated you so much. You were only ever doing your job. Doing what was asked of you. 

So, as you sit in your car before the start of the workday, you use your spare few moments to collect yourself, preparing for those same judgemental stares. You look down at your legs briefly, noticing the lack of colour — your usual patterned tights now being replaced with grey, drab trousers. All of your vibrancy and exuberancy —personality— stolen when told to make this change. 

You exhale, giving yourself one last second of sanity before you’re getting out of the car, juggling your bags and cups of coffee in hand. Stepping into the building and into the elevator with a small crowd, you become invisible, blending in with everyone — becoming what you’ve always dreaded: a lifeless office zombie, sharing the same apathetic, dull expression with all those around you. 

You reach your floor and exit with the few remaining others in the lift. You deviate from your colleagues and head for your bosses office at the back, giving his door a couple of knocks. 

“Yeah?” he calls out, and you slowly push the door open.

His usual rigged, intimidating gaze softens as his eyes fall on you through the gap, his attention landing on you over the top of his computer.

“You’re late,” he says, the words a reprimand for most, but for you they were more of an observation — a casual, flyaway statement. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a nightmare,” you apologise as you step into his office, avoiding his eyes like you were ashamed. 

You look down to the coffees in hand and pass him the one without the lipstick mark, extending an arm as you move to stand beside his desk.

“Don’t worry about it. It happens,” he reassures. And as he takes the cup from your hold, he glances down, noticing the lack of your familiar flamboyance. “What’re you wearing?”

You look down confused, brows pulling together as if to show you didn’t understand his question.

“The trousers,” he looks up at you, gaze almost harsh. “Why're you wearing them?” 

He has never seen you wear trousers.

“Thought I’d shake things up,” you shrug with your lie, not wanting him to know the real reason.

You didn’t want to give your peers more reason to hate you by tattling to the boss — complaining about them being mean to you, so you decided against it, keeping him from the truth. Though it’s far harder than you anticipated, his eyes ever so demanding as he remains fixed on you above. 

“So no smiley face is also part of you shaking things up?” he questions, showing you the blank cup — your usual sharpie smileys nowhere to be seen. 

You wince slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. You weren’t sure if the embarrassment was from the fact he noticed or that you forgot. But humiliation was felt either way.

“It’ll save us the ballache if you tell me why,” he takes a sip of his drink and places it aside, giving you his full attention. “I can call a staff meeting, but I reckon they’ll get suspicious after seeing us talk,” he playfully blackmails, offering you a faint smile to show you his bribe holds no such malice.

You turn and look out through the window of his office, picking up on dozens of sets of eyes glued to you through the gap of his blinds. All of which briskly turn away upon the glance of Tangerine, his eyeline following yours — scaring your peers back into work.

“What’d they do?” he asks, redirecting your focus back to him.

“I just got a complaint, that’s all,” you shrug, trying to minimise it as much as possible.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, neck craning to keep your eyes on him.

“They don’t like the way I dress apparently,” you laugh faintly, the noise sounding far more hurt than you intended. “I mean I get it,” you deflect, trying not to slip into a habit of seeking him for assurance when people in the office turn against you. “I get what they mean.”

He’s quiet as he looks over you, head shaking disapprovingly as he mumbles something incoherent. He inhales deeply and then coughs to clear his throat, sounding like he was preparing for something. 

“I gotta meet with some people, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he stands, reaching for his briefcase. “Don’t let these miserable lot get to you,” he smiles weakly as he collects his coffee cup, heading towards the door until he stops, and turns around to face you. “They hate that I don’t hate you, that’s all.” 

Your eyes follow after him as he leaves his office, leaving you standing there alone to process his words. You’ve never really picked up on the hinted favouritism like your colleagues have — never seeming to notice the allowances and kindness your peers aren’t granted with. But you were only ever doing as told, why would that warrant any special treatment? 

And with that thought in mind, you head towards your desk just outside of his office, setting your things on your neatly, organised table. Placing your hot drink in his designated spot besides your computer, you log on — attending to emails and to things on your extensive to do list.

A few hours pass you by.

You’re interrupted from all work when you feel the presence of someone standing behind you, your boss now back from his meeting with a pile of papers in hand.

“Need you to sort these out for me,” he says as places the stack beside your hand. “Please,” he adds, trying to keep up with the habit he’s trying to enforce by showing his appreciation. But only to you.

You look down to the pile, noticing a gap in between the blank, plain papers. You look up at him briefly, like you were asking permission and then your eyes fall back onto the stack. And as you go to lift the upper chunk of papers, Tangerine is moving from you and into his office, a new bag —a shopping bag— held within the hand of his briefcase. You take little to no notice and turn your attention back to the pile, a square paper bag hiding within the fake forms. The perfect cloak of disguise. 

You didn’t need to look inside to know what it was, the warm circle giving it away immediately. It was a cookie. You swivel in your chair to look into his office, his eyes already on you through the gap in his blinds. The gap you’re now starting to believe holds another purpose. You smile at him sweetly, mouthing thanks before resuming with your work — wanting to get it all done before the end of the day.

And as five pm soon rolls around and as everyone begins logging off and packing up for home, you turn to look back at Tangerine, a pained expression on his face as he rolls his shoulder. His old injury you know very little about seeming to give him grief.  

The floor begins to clear and you collect your things, walking those few steps until you’re in front of your boss's door. You give it a light tap and enter when welcomed.

“You off?” he asks, turning his attention to you in his doorframe. 

“Yep,” you smile, lingering for a moment. “Thank you for the cookie, by the way.”

“It’s alright,” he gently smiles, head bowing almost bashfully. “Hang on and I’ll walk you out. Don’t want you out in the dark by yourself.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you deflect, not wanting to be a bother. “Really it’s okay, my car is only outside.”

He shakes his head at you as he gives his desk a quick tidy, packing things up for the night. Tangerine stands and collects his belongings, picking up his coat from the rack and small bag from the side before he’s heading to you, guiding you along. 

You each walk towards the open elevators and head in, standing side by side —close— within the confined space. 

He twists inwards to face you. “I uh,” he starts, extending the shopping bag from earlier to you. “I picked something up for you.”

Your brows tug in the middle, looking up at him like you were questioning the reasoning why. You take it from his hand and look inside. 

“No,” you whisper, sheer disbelief in your voice as you pull out the gift. “These are beautiful! Where did you even find them?” you question, looking over the tights, marvelling at the pattern. 

He keeps his head cast downwards, looking between his feet as he smiles, appreciating your appreciation. “It’s a secret.”

The elevator dings, cutting your time short and you both look at each other, the glance brief. He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to step off first,  and you do. You linger, waiting for him to join so you could walk besides one another. 

The walk towards your car is slow, as if both of you are trying to savour the short journey, hang on to it. Small chuckles and shy, stolen glances being the only form of communication during your minute long walk.

You reach into your bag and pull out your keys to unlock your car, the dozen chains and charms jingling and clattering with the movement of your hand. 

Tangerine reaches for your door, pulling the handle to open it for you — nodding you inside. You smile at him sweetly as you get in, placing your bags on the passenger seat. 

“You get home safe, alright?” he says, grinning softly.

“I will,” you look down coyly, smile faint.

He nods once. “Good.”

“See you monday?” 

“Mhm-hm,” he hums, expression gentle as he goes to close your door. “Have a good weekend,” he says before shutting you inside.

You exhale shakily within the quiet sanctuary of your car, the lack of noise allowing your mind to run rampant with repeats from the last few minutes. You glance down to your gift, trying to process it all until your eyes land on the tag — his name, his real name squiggled on the note.

The favouritism you’ve struggled to notice becomes as clear as day. Every interaction from the past now being thought of differently as you look back on it all. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

in my mind she’s very penelope garcia/ louisa clark/ phoebe buffay coded (more so in dress sense) she’s cute and i love her

[eefos]

HD pics of Aaron in Kraven the Hunter.

[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

[sebsbarnes]

confessions || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: "you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

warnings: mention of a gun, injuries, blood

word count: 1.1k ; fluff

tangerine masterlist

you jolted awake, "what the hell," you mumbled.

eyes half open you patted around on the bed for your phone. the blaringly bright picture of a sunset staring back at you.

4:07am.

the noise that woke you up sounded again. banging at your front door. carefully you slipped out of bed and opened the drawer to your nightstand, grabbing the gun. slowly, you walked through the house creeping towards the door. the house felt eerily quiet more so than ever. the gun was held behind your back and before you could turn the doorknob you hear a voice.

"it's me."

you opened the door, "why are- jesus christ tangerine."

he smiled weakly at you, sort of shrugging, the suit jacket draped over his arm moving with.

"hey, love," he said dejectedly.

his typically smoothed back hair showed no sign of gel as his curls were a mess. the fitted suit that adorns his body was now loose with blood splattered sporadically on the fabric. the button-down shirt rolled up on his arms exposed his battered forearms. there was dirt on parts of his face, dried blood across his cheek and forehead, and a split lip.

"come in," you whispered, grabbing his hand pulling him in.

you locked the door and turned to the kitchen with tangerine still in tow. you turned the lights on in the kitchen, grabbing him water and pain reliever.

"eat these if you need something. i'm going to grab the first aid kit, alright?" you placed a box of crackers next to him on the counter and retreated to a hallway closet. when you came back, he was munching on a few and the glass of water in his other hand.

"okay now, what's the worst?"

"some prick got me in the thigh with glass," he grimaced gesturing to the torn trousers. you leaned in gently placing your hands on his thigh around the cut.

"take your pants off."

"well, that's quite forward love now, innit?" tangerine chuckled softly.

all you could do was roll your eyes as you turned around giving him a moment to hop off the counter and remove his pants. when you turned back around you couldn't help but swallow harshly at the man's muscular thighs.

"there's still bits of glass in this babes, i'm gonna have to take it out," tangerine hummed in response, clearly tired from whatever job he just came back from.

you grabbed a pair of tweezers and removed small pieces of glass left inside the wound and all tangerine could do was hiss in response. the wound was then cleaned and after tangerine gave you the greenlight, he let you stitch him up.

"now don't go fuckin' around you hear me. that's a good stitch," you said pointing at the finished product.

"yeah whatever darlin'," tangerine retorted.

you moved up to his face to clean the dirt and blood off him. you slid between his legs to get closer, fingertips accidently brushing over his thigh as you grabbed the rag next to him on the counter. you didn't notice the goosebumps that sprang to life on his skin and raced throughout his body. your lips were slightly pursed as the rag glided across his cheeks, wiping away the evidence of an earlier job.

tangerine couldn't help but stare at you during your concentration. the way your eyes danced across his face inspecting every minute detail. your eyelashes- god since when were they that long? he couldn't help the tiny smile that etched its way onto his lips hearing the small whistle your nose made as you breathed in and out. it was something you mentioned in passing that you hated, after your nose was broken on a job. small freckles decorated the bridge of your nose, and a now almost faded scar followed the curve of your cheekbone.

"you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

you faltered slightly. you and tangerine were friends. any compliments thrown each other's way was typically about work. you often worked with the twins on jobs so the three of you were close. the dynamics on and off the job the three of you had was truly incredible. many people wanted the trio because they knew the job would be a success, most likely bloody, but still successful.

to even try and deny the fact that tangerine is gorgeous was absolutely ridiculous. when you first saw him, you truly went breathless for a moment. there was no way this man was in the business of killing was one of your first thoughts, he had to be a model of some sort. and as if his looks weren't enough, when he wasn't being a complete dickhead, he had the most charming and witty personality. it was intimidating being around him most times, the feeling of insecurity often loomed around you when he was nearby.

you looked him in the eye before averting your attention to his split lip, "why didn't you go home?"

"found myself wandering this way," he said slipping off the counter.

"bit far from your house," you whispered in return. tangerine brushed a strand of hair out of your eye, his thumb running over your cheek.

"no distance is too far for you, darlin'."

you aren't quite sure where these confessions were coming from, but you would be a fool to say you hated it. it was obvious how you felt about tangerine. you knew it, he knew it, lemon knew it, damn near everyone knew it.

"i didn't know you could be a sap," you gave him a slight smirk.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "today was too risky, thought i could solo it, make some extra money. it was stupid. all i could think about was you," he confessed.

you toyed with the gold chain hanging on his exposed chest before gently tugging on it, bringing him to you. the kiss was soft but long. in the midst of the kiss tangerine had placed you on the counter, finding home between your legs and holding your waist carefully. your hands situated on the base of his skull tugging ever so slightly on his hair. tangerine's mouth parted slightly in reaction allowing you to bite gently on his lip, ignoring the fact you can taste blood. with a sigh you both finally pulled apart. his hands never left your waist.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you said.

tangerine wasted no time scooping you up in his arms, ignoring all the aches from today's job. 'i've waited months to hear these words,' he had muttered in your hair making his way through your house.

"i've waited just as long."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Lemon, Tangerine, and reader are in their early twenties, toxic relationship, swearing, violence, men (the gross kind), body/weight insecurities, cheating, intoxication

~ based on a conversation i had with my wife @little-miss-dilf-lover and lightly inspired by Dial Drunk by Noah Kahn ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It was midnight when you heard the sharp knocks on your apartment door. You knew your roommate was already asleep so you quickly pad out of your bedroom and through the living room, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you open the door a sliver and peer out into the corridor. You see Lemon first, a sympathetic look painted across his features as he holds up an extremely drunk Tangerine.

Tangerine's face is covered in bruises, the skin around his eye is slowly turning purple and you see the blood on his knuckles as he flexes his hands. Your eyes widen and you hurry out into the hall, your bare feet against the harsh carpet as you quietly shut the door behind you. "What happened?" you whisper, worried for him. Tangerine just grunts, his eyes glossy. 

He's been crying. 

Lemon groans and holds his brother higher, looking at you knowingly. As if he knows the news will somehow break your heart. You stare at him, as if to say 'cut the bullshit' because you want to see if it has something to do with Macey—which it probably does.

Tangerine and Macey have been dating on and off for years. Since high school she's had him wrapped around her pinky, his head a lust-filled mess that very quickly turned into full-blown puppy-love. She'd always be the one to dump him and he'd always come back because he loved her so much. It was an endless cycle that lasted until now, your junior year of university. 

You hate her. You have never hated anyone as much as you hate Macey Addams. 

You hate her silky ginger hair, the way her dark eyes contrast Tangerine's blue ones so well, and that fake smile she reserves for you when you see her. You hate how she laughs, how she talks, and how she looks in those skin-tight dresses Tangerine loves so much.  

You hate her.

You hate how you're not her. 

"Ran into some 'friends' from high school at the bar," Lemon says, emphasizing the word friends with a grunt, "Said some things this dick didn't like so he had to start a fucking bar fight, like some fucking criminal. All because of some bird who doesn't want nothin' to do with you anymore, mate," Lemon scolds Tangerine, who slouches against the wall and slides down, holding his head in his arms. 

"Someone called the coppers and I had to bail him out."

Your eyes widen and you run a hand in your messy hair, kneeling in front of Tangerine as you look up at Lemon. "Really?"

Lemon nods and removes his hand from Tangerine's shoulder. He walks away further down the hall, shaking his head as he groans. Lemon's mumbling curses under his breath and so is Tangerine, only his sound sadder than his brother. 

"Hey," you whisper, "Tan?"

His arms attach themselves to your waist, holding you close as he sobs. You sigh, resting your hand on his head as you let him hold you. Sometimes you'd find yourself being bitter, because why does he love Macey so much when you've always been here for him? 

You'd gift him the moon if you could, but instead, you're stuck being just this—his best friend.

Not that you're complaining. 

"Y/n?" he asks a while later as you both sit on the floor of your room, having managed to sneak him quietly through the living room. You're nursing frozen peas to his knuckles as he leans his head against your bed. Knowing Tangerine was in good hands, Lemon had gone home. 

You hum, looking at him. 

"If I could choose who I was in love with," he begins, his intoxication still obvious only he's slowly sobering up. He blinks slowly, finding his words, "I'd choose you."

You look into his blue eyes you'd normally want to drown yourself in and your heart shatters. He means well, you know this. Plus, how is he supposed to know you're actually madly in love with him when you've never told him?

However, the words hurt like hell knowing his love for Macey is almost otherworldly. He speaks of it like a chemical reaction he has no control over and you're simply the choice. Something mundane and easier. 

You turn your head and quickly wipe a tear from your cheek so he doesn't see. You look at him again and strain a smile. 

"I'd choose you too, Tan."

* * *

Four months later, although sometimes you would find him lost in thoughts of her, she was mostly a distant memory and your feelings for Tangerine have been successfully repressed.  

The pub is extra crowded this evening and you slither your way through people to where your date is. His name is Adrien, which is a respectable name. He's handsome enough if not a little boring. You order your drinks and then the conversation turns sour. 

"I mean, females need to watch their crabs, y'know. You should really order a salad," Adrien pushes the menu across the table, his voice calm like he'd just called the sky blue. You frown, cheeks warm as you cross an arm over your stomach, feeling insecure in your dress. 

"Females?" you repeat in disbelief that a man like this exists.

He doesn't answer. The waiter comes with the wine and you gulp yours down in one go.

In hindsight you should have left the moment Adrien opened his mouth, but something inside you embarrassingly craved any form of affection up until he tried to kiss you outside the pub, and when you pushed him away for the second time, he called you an ugly bitch and stormed off. 

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the lamppost, your hand clutching your purse strap so hard it hurts. You sniffle and fumble with your phone, texting the one person you know won't hesitate to come pick you up. You really don't want to walk home.

Minutes later, his car screeches in front of the pub and he opens the door from the driver's side, looking at you with a concerned expression as you climb in, buckling yourself. "Thanks," you mutter. 

"S'no problem, poppet," Tangerine says, sending you a sideways look as he starts the car again, shifting the gear as he drives off. You sink into the expensive leather seats and look out the window. You sniffle again, still holding an arm over your stomach. 

You keep hearing Tangerine's ringtone. Someone's bombarding him with texts. You turn, catching a glimpse of the contact's name as she calls him up again. The screen flashes her name. Mae. Macey. Tangerine turns his phone over in the center console, turning off the sound as he focuses on the road.

You look at him, your frown momentarily distracting you from how watery your eyes have become from the evening events. "Don't you want to answer?" you whisper. You know Tangerine would usually jump at an opportunity for her attention. This time, his jaw clenches and he shakes his head. 

"Rude to answer the phone when you're with someone, innit?" he says, looking at you briefly. "Are ya okay, love?" he asks, his tone softer now. 

You're a little surprised he's putting you over Macey but you relish in it.

You shrug. "Hm, bad date," you say. 

Tangerine's nose scrunches and his hands tighten on the wheel. "Did something happen?"

"If you count him being a jerk who thought it was normal to comment on my food choice on the first date, then yeah." You roll your eyes and look out the window again, blinking rapidly not to cry. You cross your other arm across your stomach as you instinctively suck in.

Tangerine catches the movement and his frustration boils. "You look beautiful," he says and places his hand on your knee. "Don't," he whispers, waiting for you to relax your poor stomach. You do it with a sigh and you're silent the rest of the car ride.

Once you're back home, Tangerine agrees to stay the night to keep you company after such a horrible experience. It really isn't smart, considering your heart latches on to him immediately, and it is only sent plummeting when just before your eyes flutter shut to sleep, you hear Tangerine's muffled voice in your bathroom, her name on his tongue.   

Of course, he'd called her back. 

* * *

Six months later Lemon is throwing a housewarming party for him and his fiancée, Liv. You'd decide to bring your boyfriend of three months. Unbeknownst to you, Tangerine also had invited a plus one neither you nor Lemon approved of. 

"Y/n/n!" her shrill voice calls over the music as you turn, your champagne almost falling from your hand as you see her. Her fiery red hair is cut shorter but it's as pretty as ever as she drops Tangerine's arm and skips over, pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." Macey's tone is sweet, almost as if you'd been best friends for years. 

You see Tangerine handing Lemon his and Macey's coat, whispering something to his brother who sends him a dirty look. Macey continues to hug you and then introduces herself to your boyfriend Charlie. You don't miss how Charlie's gaze flickers to her breasts in her navy skin-tight dress. Macey smiles sweetly at him.

You feel sick. 

You excuse yourself and find Tangerine in the kitchen as he looks for a drink. "Macey? Really? You're a fucking puppy wrapped around her finger," you spit, slightly drunk from the champagne and frustrated from the situation.

Tangerine rolls his eyes. "She's changed. We're good now."

"You sound so stupid," you accuse, walking over and shoving his shoulder in an attempt to knock some sense into him. He grunts and steadies you with his hands as he frowns. 

"You're sloshed, Y/n."

You shake your head and push his hand away, eyes lidded. "You fucking tell your girl to keep her dirty mitts away from my boyfriend then!" Tangerine's anger rises as he hates what you're implying just as much as you do. 

"She's not like that," he argues and you scoff, turning around to storm off into the living room again. 

"Not anymore," Tangerine calls but you ignore him. 

An hour or two later, after some rounds of charades and sneaking glances you wish you hadn't seen between Charlie and Macey, you're even drunker. Lemon is beginning to worry as Liv insists you have more water. You don't know what you hate more, that your current boyfriend keeps looking at another woman, or how said woman keeps playing with Tangerine's tie as she sits curled up in his lap. 

You think it's all in your drunken mind when you stumble into the backyard and see Charlie with his hand under Macey's dress, her leg wrapped around his hip as they kiss passionately. They're probably fueled by liquor and lust but it doesn't matter, the dam breaks and you turn around, stumbling inside, alerting them to your presence. You're crying as you slam your head into someone's hard chest. 

"Woah. Bloody hell," Tangerine frowns and looks at you. He's probably the only sober person here. He's been fully sober for more than half a year now.  His hand comes up to your cheek immediately as he pads at your tears. "Love, what happened?"

You don't answer him, only sobbing more as you push by him and rush into the upstairs bathroom. Charlie stumbles inside, buttoning up his shirt and he makes uncomfortable eye contact with Tangerine. He stops cold, clears his throat, and nods his head at him before he rushes up the stairs after you. 

Tangerine's stomach drops. He takes a calming breath and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks outside and sees Macey adjusting her dress and wiping the sides of her mouth, where her mauve lipstick had smudged.

She turns to him, her voice still as she says calmly, "I can explain, T." She doesn't sound remorseful in any way, a clear indication that he's been letting her walk all over him. 

He takes another breath and walks to her, his demeanor just as calm and Macey's expression falters. Usually, this would rile him up and she loved the adrenaline she received from calming him down and taming him. This? This was new.

"It's one thing to hurt me," Tangerine drawls, staring at her with a cold gaze. "It's another to hurt her."

Macey frowns. "Who? Y/n? Who cares—"

"I care," he interrupts and takes Macey's chin in his hand, not tightening enough to hurt her, just to scare her. "You went too far this time and I should have never given you another chance. This? Us? We should have ended years ago."

He releases her and Macey's eyes widen. "Tangerine,"

"Get out." He says sternly and turns around, adding in a harsh tone, "And lose my fuckin' number."

Tangerine hears Charlie banging on the bathroom door the moment he enters the house again and his fists clench. He strides upstairs and pulls on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling him jump as he looks at Tangerine. "Ya think ya haven't done enough?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest but hearing Tangerine, you open the door just a little and peek outside, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a mess of snot under your nose. Tangerine's gaze softens when you sniffle. 

"Tan," you whisper. 

Charlie puts his hand on the door and attempts to pry it open. "Y/n!" He sounds urgent but Tangerine shoves him away, sending him a glare as he lets himself into the small bathroom and locks the door behind him again. 

You're inconsolable now as you cry violently. As angry as you are with Tangerine for bringing her, you need him now. You grasp his shirt and rest your forehead on his chest, shaking. Tangerine is as mad at himself as you are, maybe even more so. He wraps his arms around you and inhales the scent of your shampoo as he kisses your head repeatedly. 

"Darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He hears another annoying sharp knock from Charlie again and instantly bangs his heel against the door, startling you a little but he holds you tighter and barks. 

"Piss the fuck off, twat."

The knocking ends. 

* * *

An hour later, Tangerine has you sitting on Lemon and Liv's kitchen counter as they clean up from the party. He hands you some water as he rolls up his sleeves. One of his hands finds your thigh and he rubs it soothingly. You look up at him from behind your glass, unable to resist the question.  

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Tangerine's forehead pinches and pulls his hand away so he can cup your cheeks instead. He stands in between your legs, his eyes level with yours as they search your features. "Pardon? Say that again."

"What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier than me? Does she have a better body? I- I want to be wanted like her," you sniffle, your words slurred as you're still very intoxicated no matter how much water you've drank. Your cheeks are damp from your tears. "Why does she take every man I like? Why did she take you from me when I loved you damn so much?"

Tangerine's heart leaps at your words. "Loved me?" he repeats, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod and look into his eyes. "Love," you admit, "For years—and it never stops either and I tried. I tried, Tan."

You sound so sad.

His hand shakes on your cheek and for a moment you think he's leaning in to kiss you as your eyes flutter, but instead, he crushes you into a hug. You relax in his arms, shutting your eyes fully as you whimper and the sound hits him hard. 

He'd been such an idiot. 

"I would kiss ya," he whispers, sounding sincere, "I'd kiss ya if ya weren't so damn drunk."

You're speechless. 

Liv walks in, holding an armful of paper towels with Lemon on her heels. She smiles when Tangerine shifts away from you, clearing his throat, and you try to look busy, your head spinning from Tangerine's previous words. Lemon raises an eyebrow at his brother and Tangerine communicates with his eyes. Lemon chuckles.

"G'night, lovebirds," he grins as Liv puts away the paper towels and smirks too, slapping Lemon's arm playfully.

Tangerine's cheeks burn crimson all the way up to his ears. 

Once they're gone he turns his attention to you again, looking at you fondly. "I've been a real fuckin' prick, haven't I?" he says and pushes some hair behind your ear. "Lookin' at 'er, when what I wanted was right here in front of me this whole damn time."

You blink at him, his words sinking in but you're too drunk to comprehend. 

Tangerine kisses your forehead. "I'll make it up to you," he says, his chest filling with warmth. It's a promise. One he keeps because when you wake up in Lemon's guest room, Tangerine walks in shirtless with a breakfast tray full of an assortment of toast, beans, and eggs. 

"Monrin' love," he says. He's wearing that familiar smile. A peaceful, happy, smile. The one you haven't seen him wear in a while. 

Damn does it look good on him.     

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[daenysx]

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

[nyxvuxoa]

Aaron Taylor-Johnson in Chop it Up ⤷ Bullet Train Advertising, 2022

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

can’t catch me, i’m the…

fiance!joe x reader

a fun lil bulleted list blurb about playing a lil football with your fiance joe. sfw, but minors please do not interact with my account.

joe brings you to athens for christmas and of COURSE insists at some point he needs to have a football in his hands

and you’re like . ?!?!? bro chill it’s HOLIDAY TIME

like you wanna bake cookies with his mom and spend time with family and watch christmas movies and wear matching pajamas and

joe’s like okay we cannn but do you wanna come “play” with me for like half an hour

he’s standing in his parents kitchen tossing the ball back and forth between hands and. he looks so

HOT

gray sweats, college hoodie.. are you drooling?

fuck you’re drooling. you’re-

it doesn’t help that he hasn’t shaved his face cuz FUCK does he look good

“baby?” he asks, that playful lilt to his tone and smirk on his face tells you he KNOWS he’s won this one

fucker

but you’re like. okay let me ATTEMPT to be nonchalant. right?? cuz you really lost sO EASILY

“okay, fine. half an hour.” you tell him matter-of-factly

he’s still smirking. smug ass

you also JUST MADE COFFEE THAT YOU WANT TO DRINK. and here’s his beautiful ass wanting something knowing DAMN WELL

that you’ll do anything for him (HAHAHA WHIPPPPED)

and like you’re just in leggings and a hoodie and a beanie. and it’s COLD but

you guys go out to the backyard and then you realize like. THIS NFL QUARTERBACK IS ABOUT TO THROW YOU A FOOTBALL?

“um, joe? i’m not padded?”

“no yeah but it’s fine” — WHAT DOES HE MEAN..

like are you even coordinated enough to catch a ball from anyone, much less JOE BURROW?

he’s like baby. bubs. it’s fineeee i’ll go easy

YEAH UH-HUH OKAY

surprisingly he does

and you catch the first few and throw them back and he’s sO proud of you!!

but then

suddenly

it’s “oh, let’s run routes”

“hell nah. i’m not ja’marr or tee or anyone else. do that shit when your brothers get here.”

and he’s pouting. with his pitiful bottom lip sticking out

he’s not gonna make you feel bad is he? IS HE????

and now here he comes. strolling through the backyard and to you. and oH

his arms are around you. he’s hugging you. fuck he smells good

and now you’re kissing and

“pleeeeasseeee?”

THIS FUCKER— “fine. a FEW.”

it’s more than a few, but he’s singing your praises even though you have NO CLUE what the hell you’re doing

“no babe really you’re doing so well, yeah just like that”

WHY IS HE RILING YOU UP LIKE THIS!???? what the hell joseph

you catch a few more for him and then you’re like bro. i’m getting windED LET ME BREATHE.

he’s just smiling and happy-go-lucky

meanwhile you’re doubled over hands on your knees and PANTING

after a few minutes you’re like okay joey can we be done now? cAN WE

and he’s like one more *pouty face*

okay. fine. one more

so he throws it to you. perfect spiral. a dime. here it comes. and as it lands in your hands, you see him

RUNNING AT YOU FULL SPEED

JOEY WHEELS??

oh fUCK

so. you do what any idiot in the christmas spirit with a hot football player boyfriend does. you yell

“CAN’T CATCH ME, I’M THE GINGERBREAD MAN!”

now you’re running. full speed. as far as your lil legs will take you

(not far)

LITERALLY HE’S CHASING YOU AROUND IN A CIRCLE

joey’s on your heels and suddenly you’re in thE AIR

HE GOT YOU

and he’s spinning you around and

it’s kinda romantic. even though it’s colder than FUCK OUTSIDE

he lets you down and you pull him in for a sweet kiss and

hell yeah. he’s so hot his stubble is scratching at your face and

CONTROL YOURSELF THIS IS HIS PARENTS’ BACKYARD

oh a car is pulling in. okay separate HORNDOGS

he takes your hand and is admiring the sparkly diamond ring he gave you recently

beautiful oval shaped diamond that you LOVE SO MUCH. and you love HIM so much

he’s looking at you with bedroom eyes. JOE CHILL

the idea of you being his fiancée gets him HOT AND BOTHERED

BUT it’s one of his brothers and their family exiting the car, gotta go greet everyone. which you are excited about

but joe stops you and says

“next i’m gonna teach you how to run a slant, then an out route, and then a post, and then-“

you interrupt him like - baby. please

“wait. i DO want you to teach me what the hell dice right f fly whiskey brady is. and also the one where you said alert booty”

he smiles. shit eating grin. because FUCK, YOU JUST AGREED TO DO THIS AGAIN??

none of the photos or dividers used are mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Hello. Just wondering if you have any relationship headcanons for Millia Rage (Guilty Gear) and or Bullet (Blazblue). Please and thank you.

The fact I was halfway through writing a Milia relationship headcannon when I got this-

Well, prophetic Anon's aside...

YOUR WISH IS MY COMAND!

Millia Rage

Millia is not a very emotionally open woman.

It is to be expected considering how her life has been up until the point you met her.

And while she has gotten better at it, she still prefers to log things like emotions rather than experience them.

That being said.

She does show her affection in other way’s.

More specifically, in physical way’s.

Millia may not have the words to tell you how she feels about you, but she can show you.

That’s why she always tries to keep a piece of her wrapped around you.

Whether it be a single finger wrapped around yours or it be her entire body crushing you, she wants you to know that she loves you.

She may almost never say it, but she doesn’t need to.

The actions she takes when she is with you is more than enough.

Because Millia Rage is not a very emotionally open woman.

And despite that, she still shows you love in the few ways she can.

Bullet

Bullet is a rather hot headed individual.

Going all out and all in is what she does best.

In other words she is a real firecracker or a bombshell waiting to go off depending on who you ask.

But she is also honest to a fault.

And probably far to naive.

Hell, the first date the two of you went on Bullet brough actual dates to it thinking it was some sort of strange ritual to eat dates.

She was very confused, but she had the right spirit.

Also, flirting is less than useless on her, unless you want to confuse her, then that's probably the best strategy.

All of that being said, Bullet is far from being completely lost in the way of love.

Just spun around, hit over the head and tripped onto the ground.

But on the few occasions she can stand up she is adorable.

With a book of horrible lines for flirting in one hand and a flower of some sort in the other, she will try and stutter them out in confusion, not quite sure what they are but knowing that she is saying something quite embarrassing and doing something just as embarrassing.

But she still did it all the same, after all, to her you were the only person she ever felt so… strange with.

And she liked that strange feeling.

She liked it very much.

[berrieluv]

<3; aaron johnson x reader (i think i didn't use pronouns but it's mention that the reader has a vagina) summary: you know damn well, you horny friends. kiki says: this fits contains unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), cheating kink, the feel of guilt that it's never enough to make him stop, i think this smut it's very light, just trying to keep you fed while i work in the angst. also english isn't my first language so i apologize for the bad writing.

me and your husband.

For the public, having you involved in the movie Kraven with Aaron after Bullet Train was just a normal occurrence, two actors working together more than once, nothing that hasn't happen before and nothing that won't happen again.

For Aaron, it was just his masterplan working. He craved you near him, he needed you there. He couldn't function properly anymore without you, without your body and the way your legs wrap around his neck.

His blue eyes are long gone by now, so full with lust he can not think of anything else. He already made you cum three times before you had to take a shower and attend a date, and now here you are again, seizing the day like you started it, with his tongue inside your wet cunt.

He kisses your thigh softly, his hand behind your knee, his mouth marking every inch of your skin with kisses, smelling your dripping pussy and looking amused at the wet spot on the beige sheets.

"You bought them for me?" He moans, looking at your lingerie next to him, the one he just took off the moment you walked back from dinner, his face buried between your thighs, you didn't. You bought them because they were pretty and expensive, and you could afford them "You look so pretty" He says.

His wife is sleeping in the next room, if you get close enough to the wall you could hear her sleep, which was weird, an expensive five stars hotel with thin walls, you must think they would be soundproof for the price. Or maybe it was your guilt, your senses sharpened in shame, making sure you never forget he's a married man.

But maybe you weren't better than that, but why should you. He wanted you, he needed you and loved you even more than you found him attractive, which was to say much.

"Fuck..." You moan when Aaron's tongue was inside your pussy. His hand grabbing your underwear and placing it on your thigh again, grabbing your skin and the lingerie along, the other hand over your belly, keeping you grounded.

Aaron licks the sides of your pussy, his tongue gently going through your folds, he teases your sensitive parts, hitting the right places, he knows how to use his tongue, and it feels like it has been wasted all this time.

Your moans grew louder when two of his fingers are inside you without any previous notice, moving them in and out, his tongue sucking on your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in pleasure.

"Is this good?" He asks out of breath, a big smile plastered across his face, almost like he thought he didn't need anything else but the sweet scent of your dripping cunt.

Was it good? It was fantastic.

"Hold for me, princess?" He asks softly, your legs curled up while your hands keep them up grabbing behind your knees.

He touches your ass, his hand traveling all over every part of your body, his lips are all over your sweet wet cunt, eating like a starving man, making sure every single drop of your wetness goes into his mouth.

"I need you..." He moans against your folds "Fuck, I need you so much"

Aaron takes all of your release, drinking it all, when he looks up his chin is all wet and a spark of proudness in his eyes.

He doesn't even look this proud when he's on a press conference.

"Keep holding your legs" He orders, taking off his jeans and boxers "Good girl" He praises with a smile when he walks back to bed.

You remind silence most of the times, your words consumed by your moans and whimpers, you want him so badly.

"Please..." You finally find the way to speak, your breath heavy and your heart beating faster than it should when he starts thrusting into you. His right hand holding himself on the mattress to not lay all of his weight on you.

His left hand massaging your breasts, treating it like it was a stress ball.

"Shit, princess" He moans, his eyes closing even if he tries to fight it, he loves watching you. He loves the look in your eyes and how they roll, going all blank when he starts thrusting faster.

"Oh!" You moan, and he smirks like a bastard, enjoying knowing he's the one making you feel like this "Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry, almost chocking in your own pleasure.

"Sh, sh..." He coos "Baby, you're chocking, princess" He chuckles, enjoying your desperation "I'm not even near your throat"

He caresses your cheek with a soft smile, moving slowly down to your throat, applying just the right pressure to make you gasp for air, shutting your moans.

"Don't be so loud..." He demands, it was meant to be teasing, but his voice sounds dominant, his expression is serious and his eyes darkened with lust and need of control "You know Sam is in the next room"

Sam, he doesn't refer as my wife anymore. She stopped being my wife a few months ago, just a few weeks after you became my everything. The air he breathed, not only his wants but his needs.

You feel a warm sensation running through your insides, a loud groan when he lets it out, his cum painting your cunt and dripping down your skin.

"God, I love my little masterpiece" He chuckles, watching your thighs covered by his cunt. "You're tired?"

He asks softly and you nod, his phone starts ringing at the same time you hear his wife walking around their hotel room, you wonder if he hears her.

"Your phone..." You say with your eyes closed when he ignores it and walks to the bathroom.

"Can wait" He says without hesitation.

"What if it's your wife?" You know is her.

"She can wait" Aaron says, it's almost like he doesn't care and a part of you knows he doesn't. "I'll clean you up first, super star"

[omelaslost]

Bedding Ceremony Pt. 1

•───────•°•❀•°•❀•°•❀•°•───────• Prompt: How they act during their bedding ceremony and the events leading up to it. Characters: Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Gwayne Hightower

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

•───────•°•❀•°•❀•°•❀•°•───────•

Aegon II Targaryen

✿ Aegon would be looking forward to the bedding ceremony, eagerly anticipating it as he drinks throughout the feast. It’s a wonderful tradition in his mind, and he can’t wait to be undressed and lead to the bridal chambers with you. ✿ If you expressed discomfort or anxiety about the bedding ceremony leading up to it, while I don’t see him forgoing it, he would at least try to alleviate your nervousness. I don’t think he would truly understand why you were nervous or uncomfortable, because in his mind, it is custom for a wedding, but he would still try to make you feel better regardless. ✿ Keyword: Try. I don’t think Aegon is the best at comforting others in general, but he would genuinely try his best. Surely that must count for something. ✿ “It’s tradition,” He would start, his tone light but gentle as a smile lit up his face, “Thousands of brides before you have been undressed for their husbands, and thousands more will after you.” His smile would become tense if he noticed that his words did not have the soothing effect he had intended. “It’s not so bad. I promise.” He would pat your hand, grasping it to give it a small, comforting squeeze before releasing it. ✿ He would, of course, encourage you to drink during the feast leading up to the ceremony in an attempt to calm your nerves and loosen you up. If he noticed you fidgeting or looking nervous, he would hold his cup up to your lips until you took a sip.

✿ Granted, for every sip you took, he would probably take about three. He would likely be a bit tipsy by the time the bedding ceremony is announced. If you didn’t seem as nervous as you did before and he started getting impatient, he would stand up and announce it was time for the bedding himself. ✿ He would laugh at every single ribald joke, even more so at the ones directed at you. The women in attendance might would be struggling to move him forward and undress him because he would be in a fit of giggles over what his “dragon” would do to your “uncharted cave”. He’d probably throw in a few jokes of his own in response. ✿ He’d feel a surge of pride in his chest every time someone would pay a compliment to your body as if he’d been complimented himself. His smile would grow with each comment and he’d be nodding along like yes, that’s my wife and she does have great breasts and pretty lips and wonderful thighs thank you for noticing; I, too, have noticed. ✿ “She does, doesn’t she?” He would giggle out with the proudest, almost reverent smile plastered on his face. ✿ If he was being led ahead of you to your bedchambers, he would constantly be looking back at you and smiling as the men led and undressed you. The ladies would have to be leading him like a child by the arm because he is not paying attention to where he’s going. ✿ “Hurry and bring my beautiful bride to me,” he would call out once he was tucked into the bed in your bridal chambers. The moment you’re presented to him by the men, his arms are around you and he’s pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders while the guests make their exit, some hooting and whistling as they close the door behind them. ✿ “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He would ask once the two of you were alone, though the suggestions were already pouring in through the door. (It definitely was that bad). ✿ If you agree that is was not so bad, he would grin and pull you into a kiss, his hand immediately snaking down to your breast. ✿ If you disagreed, he would be a little shocked, his expression turning slightly pouty, but he would resume his kisses, promising that he would make it up to you.

✿ Aegon would be eager to consummate the marriage, and he wouldn’t be put off by the fact that there were people outside the door listening in and calling out suggestions. If anything, it would egg him on, though he would probably snort at some of the suggestions. ✿ He would definitely want to make you moan loud enough for them all to hear. ✿ “Aw, come on now, don’t be shy. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel,” he would murmur in your ear, giving your nipple a teasing pinch and changing his angle as he thrust into you with the intention of making you cry out louder.

Aemond Targaryen

✿ Aemond is a bit more complicated. He wouldn’t be looking forward to the bedding ceremony; in fact, he would likely be dreading it during the entirety of the feast, not that you would be able to tell by looking at him. He knows that it is tradition and he knows what is expected of him, and as a dutiful prince and husband, he would swallow whatever negative feelings he would have and do what needs to be done. ✿ While Aemond would not bring it up himself, if you mentioned that you were nervous about the ceremony, he would listen to you quietly and give a little hum to let you know he’d heard you. While initially, he might remind you what’s expected of the two of you, he would at least make note of your worries. ✿ When the time came, if you still seemed nervous, he would tactfully say that his new wife was not comfortable with the ceremony or was not feeling well, so the two of you would forgo the ceremony and attend to each other privately. ✿ And attend you he would. The moment the two of you were alone in your bridal chambers, a majority of the tension from the day would seem to melt off him. He’d be relieved that he could at least have you in peace. He’d likely be gentler with you as a result.

✿ Make no mistake, though the ceremony itself was skipped, the bedding would still occur. You’re his wife, and he would want an heir, and he'd want one as soon as possible at that. So while he might go easy on you he wouldn’t exactly be letting you rest much on your wedding night. ✿ If the marriage was arranged with a short betrothal period, it would be a rather impersonal night. He would make sure you were cared for and satisfied as much as he was, but that night (and the next that followed) would be duty-driven more than anything else. However, that is not to say the two of you would not find pleasure in each other. ✿ Now, if your betrothal was a longer one and Aemond had a fondness for you before the wedding (and bedding) it would be a much more tender experience, though no less demanding. ✿ However, if you did not outwardly mention any nervousness or reluctance to go through with the ceremony, Aemond would simply bear it. ✿ It would likely be Aegon to announce it was time for the bedding once he grew tired of the feast. Aegon would be the first to move to unlace your gown and would be the loudest in his jokes. ✿ There’s a lot of potential for jokes, after all. Aemond does have the largest dragon in the world, after all… how lucky his wife must be. ✿ I don’t think Aemond would enjoy most of the humor of the night, unfortunately, but he would bear them as he bears all else. ✿ Aemond would not allow any of the women undressing him to touch his eyepatch. If it had to be removed before he entered the bridal chambers, he would do so himself. He wouldn’t want it just ripped off of him like the rest of his clothes. Despite his stoic exterior, the loss of his eye is a very sensitive spot for him still. If it must be exposed, it should be by him. ✿ Unlike Aegon, instead of feeling pride when one of the men complimented your body, he would feel mostly possessive. He’d be feeling a lot of emotions all at once. There would be a small bit of pride that you were beautiful and you were his, that people were bearing witness to his claim over you, but it would also be overshadowed by the fact that others were touching you, that they were undressing you. But it is tradition, so there isn’t much to be done about it.

✿ Aegon’s presence might be the most difficult thing for Aemond to swallow during the ceremony, regardless of his other feelings. Aemond’s feelings about his older brother are complicated and that tends to bleed into everything. Even if it’s a political marriage, even if it is tradition, he wouldn’t be fond of others touching his wife, but especially Aegon. A whore is one thing, but you were to be his. And if it’s more than just politics? More than one guest in attendance would be able to attest to the fact that your husband looked like he wanted to kill someone on the way to the bedchamber. But he would swallow his emotions on it. ✿ If it is more than just an arranged marriage and Aemond managed to retain his eyepatch up until the two of you alone, he would allow you to take it off of him. ✿ That being said, Aemond would definitely end up taking his pent-up frustrations from the feast out on you during the actual bedding. He would at least make sure you were prepared to take him, but he would be rough that night. ✿ He would try to tune out the shouts of suggestions pouring in from the other side of the door, and he would want you to do the same. He doesn’t want you focusing on outside sources the first time he’s inside you. ✿ “Ignore them. I’m the one in front of you. Focus on me,” He would murmur in your ear as he thrust into you. That would be his goal, to make you feel so good that you forgot all about your wedding guests. ✿ He would want to make you moan loud enough to drown them all out. There would be a tiny part of him that wanted those lingering outside the room to know that he could please his new wife. Ultimately, I think he’d just want it to be over so the guests would leave. ✿ He would definitely make it up to you on the second or third round once they’re all gone and it’s just the two of you.

Gwayne Hightower

✿ Gwayne would be a healthy mix of Aegon and Aemond, but I think he would be leaning slightly more on the Aegon side of things in terms that he’d be more comfortable in the tradition and lighthearted in the proceedings. ✿ He’s totally for and looking forward to the bedding ceremony, and similar to Aegon, he wouldn’t initially stop to think that his wife might be uncomfortable with it and why. He couldn’t wait to be undressed and watch you be undressed in turn, knowing that at the end of it, he would be able to claim you in the eyes of gods and men. ✿ If you brought up any concerns, he might even think you were joking at first, smiling and letting out a chuckle. His first instinct would be to brush it off as nerves on your part. You were his bride and brides were almost always bashful on their wedding night. He would consider your timidness to be endearing. ✿ “You’re beautiful. You’ve nothing to feel shy about,” He would try to assure you, offering you a charming smile and perhaps even a small, tender kiss on your knuckles. ✿ He’d keep an eye on you throughout the feast (you were eating from the same plate and drinking from the same cup after all), and when he noticed how genuinely anxious you seemed, he would feel a bit more protective of you. ✿ He would still be disappointed if his wife really didn’t want to proceed with the ceremony, but ultimately, he would be more likely to choose to forgo it if she was truly uncomfortable. Once he considers things from her perspective and realizes that it wasn’t just nerves but genuine discomfort, he would be much more understanding. He would relent easier if he knew his wife and perhaps had been betrothed to her for a while. ✿ Like yeah, he’d be a little disappointed, but this is the woman he’s going to spend the rest of his or her life with and will (hopefully) be the mother of his children, so he’d rather start the marriage off on the right foot. Plus that means he gets to be the one to undress her and she can undress him, so his disappointment would be short-lived. He’s a product of the culture he’s been raised in, but Gwayne is a kind person beneath it. ✿ He would tease her though, once they were alone. As he unlaced her gown, he would be saying “Oh? So you didn’t want anyone seeing this, hm? These? They’re magnificent.” while cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples.

✿ “Perhaps it is for the best… the whole of the Seven Kingdoms would be beside themselves with envy. The women for your beauty and the men because you are mine.” ✿ He’d be laying the charm on thick, focusing on easing your worries and making you feel more comfortable. ✿ Now, if all things go according to custom and you do not outwardly express the wish to forgo the ceremony, things would play out very differently. ✿ Regardless, Gwayne would still want first rights to his wife, so as his arm is grabbed by the nearest woman, he’d reach over with his free hand to undo the top lace of your wedding gown, grinning cheekily before he’s pulled away from you. ✿ Like Aegon, he would find a majority of the bawdy jokes amusing (the Hightower big cock jokes write themselves), laughing and shaking his head as they were spouted towards the two of you. He would raise his brow at the more outlandish ones, though he would have his own responses for anything he found too degrading towards you (degrading even by Westeros standards, at the very least). ✿ “Be gentle with my bride,” he would warn if he noticed the men getting a bit too rough with you. Though he would veil it with a lighthearted tone, there would be a layer of seriousness that made itself known. He wouldn’t want them ripping your gown off in their haste to undress you. Gwayne would want you treated delicately. ✿ There is a good chance that you were a virgin, being of noble birth, so Gwayne would be aware that you were likely nervous about the act itself. He would want to make you giggle, kissing your neck while his fingers danced across your stomach. ✿ He might scoff at some of the suggestions your drunken guests shout through the door, but he’d still find most of them amusing. “Ridiculous. Do they think you’re a wooden doll to be bent every which way? Though…” (He secretly stores some suggestions in his mind for when you’re more experienced).

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

reader crying during s3x with tan? like he’s just making her feel too good🤭

actually throbbing, im not even sorry. so hot and I love it so much!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌 image has no relevance to fic, it’s just really stupidly hot!! dying

OUTTA YOUR MIND.

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

word count. 387

warnings. 18+ pinv sex, crying, tan being so. minors dni

Tangerine hovers atop of you, his bare chest pressed up against yours. He has one of your legs pinned back, his bicep hooked under your knee - forearms supporting his weight on either side of you. The wind of his hips slow, deep and deliberate, full splitting length of his cock fucking into you.

His face is tucked into the crook of your neck, whispering obscenities into your ear, lips ghosting the patch below and stache tickling at your skin. He's everywhere, all over you, overwhelming and flooding your senses in the way he always does best.

You held him to you, your free leg draped lazily over his hip, one hand clasped around the back of his head, the other gripping the meat of his shoulder blades - almost clinging onto him.

The sounds of your stuttered, breathy moans and soft, wet clicks of your pussy fill the room, the space filling with lewd, blissed noises. The steady creaking of the bedframe adding to it all.

The leisure drive of his cock never stutters, the same persistent pace, never once wavering as he drags you to another high. Your third of the night.  

As you twitch and jolt against him during your release, you let out small choked sobs, your mind and body completely fucked-out. A few tears silently fall, little trails of wetness rolling from the corners of your eyes. 

During the midst of your blissed noises, Tangerine notices the slightest change in pitch. So he pulls his face from the patch between shoulder and neck - looking down at you attentively.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispers, voice hoarse as his thrusts falter.

You rapidly shake your head 'no', fingers digging into the swell of his back. 

"Want’me to stop?" he muffles against your skin, pressing kisses along your jaw.

You shake your head again, this time fervently. You did not want him to stop.

"Am I making you feel too good?" 

You nod in response, the motion of your head almost desperate, pleading. 

He brings his spare hand up to cup your jaw, fingers spread wide on the side of your face as he angles your head back into the pillow. Then he leans forward, pressing kisses over your cheeks - his lips absorbing those blissed tears you struggled to contain.

"Good."

im really REALLY NOT OKAY😣

[eefos]

NEW SMALL CLIPS OF AARON in KRAVEN THE HUNTER