#cheap bathroom suites

[tradeplumbingsblog]

The Benefits of Installing a Electrical Central Heating Boiler: A Comprehensive Guide

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[bathroomforless]

Discover premium quality bathroom products at Bathroom4less, where affordability meets durability. We proudly offer our own branded products across the UK, ensuring top-notch quality and longevity. Transform your bathroom with our cheap bathroom vanity units, comprehensive bathroom suites, and stylish bathroom furniture sets. Our collection includes everything from freestanding vanity units and bathroom vanity units with sinks to floor standing vanity units and elegant vanity units with basins. At Bathroom4less, we provide a wide range of bathroom furniture designed to meet your needs and budget, all backed by our quality guarantee. Upgrade your bathroom with Bathroom4less and enjoy the perfect blend of style, functionality, and affordability.

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Pretty Green Eyes-I Mean Ties

Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Summary: you find a little present for Dean

Warnings: none, pure cuteness, slight embarrassment, gn but use of 'sweetheart'

A/N: I'm obsessed with this gif, not proofread all mistakes are my own

You walked through the iles of the thrift store, looking for new shirts, after your favorite one was shredded by a monster last week. You and the Winchesters frequented second-hand shops; your clothing got ruined pretty often, so you had to buy cheap. That's also why you wore so much flannel, it was easy to find here.

The boys hadn't joined you on this shopping trip, so you were left to peruse the store without Dean getting onto you for 'getting distracted by the dead people stuff'. I mean, in your defense, wasn't that kind of part of your job?

As you looked through the men's clothing for a replacement jacket for Sam, something on one of the end caps caught your eye. You went over and picked up the deep emerald green suit tie. It reminded you of Dean's pretty green eyes.

In the years you had been hunting with the brothers, you had developed quite a crush on the older Winchester. Crush? Let's face it. You were in love with him, and you had alway loved his beautiful eyes.

You almost wanted to buy the tie for him. You rolled your eyes at the thought. It's not like the boys were big on gift-giving. Debating for a moment you decided he could wear it with his 'fed threads' ‐as he called your fake FBI suits- and tossed it in the cart before you could second guess yourself.

"Honey I'm home," you greeted in a sing-song tone as you entered the motel room you were sharing with the boys.

Digging in your bag, you handed Sam the jacket you had gotten him and he thanked you. Dean looked up from where he sat at the end of one of the beds cleaning his gun.

"I got you something too," you said, dropping the tie onto the bed next to him.

He picked it up and looked at you with a brief look of confusion.

"It matches your eyes."

Why did you say that? You internally cringed, feeling the heat rise in your face. Instead of looking at him, you stuffed your new clothes into you duffle bag.

"Thanks Sweetheart," Dean said a sweet smile gracing his lips.

"I'm going to take a shower." You hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Really you wanted to run away from this situation so he didn't see how flustered you were.

"Awww," Sam said in a mocking tone as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you.

You may have missed how Dean blushed when you said that, but Sam didn't, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease his older brother. He knew that Dean had had feeling for you for years, but was too blind to realize that you felt the same.

"Shut up," Dean said, brushing off his bothers' teasing. He ran his finger over the fabric of the tie and smiled to himself. He knew he would keep it forever.

[mr2swap]

The great shift: a stinking symbiotic relationship

I came home empty-handed, I hadn't even been able to get a job as a cashier at McDonald's, but I can't blame them who would hire an overweight middle-aged man like me... A lot of things are different since the Great Shift, but I guess that some things remain the same, I opened the door to my apartment and the first thing I looked at was my old body sitting on the couch with an annoyed look.

-Dude, What the fuck? You were supposed to be here 35 minutes ago, my phone is blowing up with messages on our subscribers! You know them, they can't wait a minute for any of this! -

Gary Muller, my roommate and my “business partner,” flexed one of his enormous biceps until the shirt that covered the muscular and perfect body that used to belong to me almost burst, then with one of his long fingers he pointed to one of his armpits that for a moment They were dry.

Gary took off his shirt, revealing the body he used to look at every day in the mirror, grabbed a pair of dumbbells that were on the floor and started working out for our afternoon show.

-Yeah... I'm sorry, I went to a couple of job interviews, and they went a little longer than I thought, just... let me change while you train a little-

He just ignored me and went about his business while I walked into our apartment. I had heard that many people ended up in bodies thousands of miles away because of the Great Shift, but me and Gary living next to each other was a strange coincidence.

I didn't know anything about Gary before all this. Furthermore, I only considered him as the old man who lived next to me, sometimes in the mornings while my uncle went to the gym I could see him leaving the building, dressed in a cheap suit and heading to his office job. It was a surprise for me, One day I woke up in his apartment with his old body.

 The Real Gary was as surprised as I was, the first time I saw my old body from Gary's perspective I was speechless, there was an expression of confusion on that beautiful, symmetrically perfect face, the long, muscular arms of which I used to be so proud now they were in someone else's possession, but the worst of all was how short I was now. The height difference between us was enormous, while I was almost two meters tall Gary was 1.50 CM Even some children They are taller than me now.

But over time I got used to Gary's horrible old body... every day I prayed to get my old life back, but every day I woke up with horrible back pain and with a face older than my father's, perhaps the most strange now is the hair, Gary started going bald since high school and when he turned 30 he decided to shave all his hair, Gary's bathroom was full of hair growth products that hadn't worked for years.

And while I was suffering from trying not to adapt to the life of a 48-year-old, the real Gary was enjoying his new youth and his new muscular body. I learned that people treat you very differently when you look like a damn stud instead of a wrinkled Troll.

He could hear through the walls like the real home, and he had fun with my body and with all the boys I brought to my old apartment every night, I had never realized how thin the walls were in this building Until for the first time I heard the powerful moans of my old voice at the same time that Gary used my cock to fornicate another man.

Time passed and society continued on its path, for me, it was surprisingly fast how the government recovered from all this. But there was only one problem, there were a lot of unemployed people everywhere, and among all of them was me.

I used to work at the local gym as a trainer, but with this body that had never been in a gym in its entire life, I was quickly fired. On the other hand, Gary's company went bankrupt when most of the investors ended up in young bodies And they decided to sell the company.

As the days went by, Gary and I became somewhat of friends, I helped him with exercise routines and taught him about the nutrition My body needed, We decided that it would be much cheaper for both of us to live together while all this was resolved, And I returned to my old apartment, but I felt like a stranger among my own things. I settled in the smallest room surrounded by my training equipment that was totally useless to me now, everything was too heavy.

Living with Gary was certainly better than living on the street, But every day it made me reconsider if that was true, Unsuccessfully I tried to get a damn job, so I could get out of that apartment and start my life over in Gary's weak old body. I felt like a parasite even with Gary, he paid the rent and all the house services.

On top of that, he used to party every night and hang out with his new gym friends during the day, it was a total mystery to me how he made so much money... until I started receiving some strange messages on my old Instagram account. .

“Hey buddy, was this your body?”

“Dude, are you DaddyGary?”

“Damn, you had such a hot body… I always knew what was under those shorts, you didn't disappoint me.”

It wasn't hard to realize that Gary had been making his filthy armpit fetish porn for those desperate gays. I felt so dirty watching the videos of my old body worshiping his sweaty armpits after the gym.

I immediately confronted Gary about it, and surprisingly he admitted it very quickly. He didn't seem embarrassed, or sorry for doing it, I could even notice a slight mocking smile on his face as I told him how humiliated I felt while a bunch of perverted men masturbated with my stinky armpits.

It was at that moment when those words from Gary sealed the destiny I am living in now.

-Those “disgusting” things like you call them are what pay the rent for this place and keep your old ass from sleeping in some dumpster. And if you want to continue sleeping in your comfortable bed, it's time for you to start contributing a little money, and I know how you can do it... Come here -

He flexed both arms showing his armpits, I was surprised to see that he had recently shaved his armpits, eliminating all the wild hair that I previously kept in my sweaty pits, I... I couldn't control myself, I don't think he's homosexual, but the powerful musk of my old armpits made me react like a bee to honey.

Gary took his phone and started recording me while he worshiped his wet armpits with my tongue.

-You like it, right?… “Gary” Do you like the taste of your old body? Can you believe this used to be me? Damn, You really are pathetic, “Gary” -

It had been several days since I had ejaculated, I had thought Gary's body had erectile dysfunction or something, but at that moment my little cock was hard as a rock and hot as hell. I had never felt this way, my head was completely clouded by the addictive testosterone filled aroma of my old armpits.

-Look friends, “Gary” is jerking off, it seems like he still misses his old body... Maybe we should let him play with him another time...-

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[pinksfloydss]

i like the way you kiss me 

Pairings: erik lehnsherr x afab reader (she/her pronoun use)

Warnings: smut, 18+. praise kink, mirror kink, insecurity, toxic (?) relationship. fwb of sorts. takes place after Days of Future Past. first time writing smut so be nice!

She knew her position in all of this, and she didn’t dare step over the boundaries. She knew Erik was not interested in a relationship, that he was looking for a warm body to press up against on the cold nights. At first she didn’t mind it. Just like him, she wanted a distraction from all of this tragedy and ostracisation in her life. Being a Mutant on the run from law enforcements was not an easy task, especially when nearly every Government agency was after Erik, and her by association. There was that understanding between them. An understanding that they were in this together. But not together, together.

She stood in the motel’s bathroom, a thin door separating her from Erik who was sitting on the bed. Sighing deeply, she tossed the empty box of hair dye in the trash can along with a pair of stained gloves. Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, she glanced down at her gold watch, taking note of the time. After 45 minutes, she stripped out of her clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water rush down her body. She used the shampoo and conditioner set she purchased alongside the hair dye. Erik argued that it was nonsensical, since the motel would have complimentary shampoo and conditioner for them to use. She fought back with the fact she was already changing the color of her hair, she wasn’t going to damage it anymore with cheap motel products. 

After drying off her body with the rough towel and blow drying her hair with the motel-given dryer that made the lights flicker when she turned it on, she slipped into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. There was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“One second,” she replied, raising her voice only slightly. 

“Come on, you’ve been in there forever,” Erik retorted through the door. “The suspense is killing me.”

She rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, allowing him to turn the knob and step in. She wasn’t ready to look at him directly yet, so she continued to nit-pick her appearance in the mirror. Erik came up behind her, gazing at her in the mirror as well. He gathered her waist length hair into his hands, holding it up like a ponytail. 

“I think it suits you,” he murmured. “It's a shame there wasn’t any extra to share.”

She smiled at him in the reflection. “I can go back to the store tomorrow.”

“I’ll pass.”

Erik pressed himself against the back of her, dropping her hair down over one shoulder as he leaned in. He pressed soft kisses into the kiss of her neck, his scruff scratching her soft skin. 

“Erik,” she muttered. “I just got out of the shower.”

“You can take another one.”

He grasped her jaw, turning her head so that they could kiss. It was soft, almost convincing. He kept her body pointed at the mirror. Sighing softly, he pulled himself away from her, looking down at her with dark eyes. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” he whispered. 

Her breath shook as she exhaled. She grabbed his hands that were planted at hips and started tugging on them. Placing one of his hands on her chest, she pulled the second one further down. He cupped her through her pajama shorts. 

“Eager, are we?” he teased. 

“Don’t make me beg,” she pleaded. “It’s embarrassing.”

He smiled against her neck. “You sound so beautiful when you beg.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t be able to look at herself in the reflection. “Erik,” she whispered. “I need you. Please.”

Erik removed his hands from her body and grabbed the hem of her tank top, guiding her through it and off her body. Next, he moved to her shorts, pushing them off her hips and down the legs. She supported herself up by placing her palms on the sink counter. Her legs were weak, pliable. She kept her eyes closed. 

She always considered herself to be a modern-woman, not in the need of a man to help her with anything. But at this moment, she needed Erik’s help. He was the only one who could make her feel better. The feeling of embarrassment with desperation kept her eyes sealed shut.

Erik pulled her back up against him, and she could feel the fact he just removed his own clothes. He groaned when she shifted weight, her soft skin rubbing against his growing hardness. One of his hands reached around her to her chest, rubbing his thumb across her hard nipple. His lips found the spot right under her ear, kissing it softly. Next, his other hand ran over her stomach and down between her thighs. His two innermost fingers slid between her folds, slipping inside her.

A gasp left her lips as he worked at her. The heel of his palm rubbed at her clit, making her tighten around his fingers even more. 

“Erik,” she sighed. 

“Say it,” he groaned. 

“Please,” she choked out. “I want you. I – fuck – please, Erik.”

Erik complied to her pleads. He removed his hand from her and shuffled behind her, finding the right spot to stand. Finding it, he lined himself up with her and slowly slid in, giving her time to adjust. Perhaps the lewdest sound she has ever made came out of her. Perhaps the people in the neighboring rooms could hear her. Perhaps she was feeding into his ego. Any of it, she did not care. All she cared about was the way he was making her feel in this moment. 

Erik grabbed both of her wrist, holding them behind her at the small of her back with one hand. The other grasped the base of the back of her neck, pushing the upper part of her body flat against the sink counter. She turned her head to the side, one cheek flushed against the cool counter. Erik made sure to collect all of her hair away from that side of her face, even placing it so it was off the back of her neck. His thrusts started out slow, patient with her body. But they soon picked up speed. With every moan she let out, he felt more of a responsibility to make the next one better. 

“Is this what you’re too embarrassed to say you like?” he murmured, his one hand still gripping both of her wrists while the other braces himself on the back of her shoulder. “Do you like giving yourself completely over to me? Do you like the way I make you feel?”

She choked out a cry. She was never going to admit it out loud, she couldn’t. But the way his words – the truth she was afraid to confess – made her feel, sent shock waves through her body. He grabbed a fistful of hair with his hand, pulling her face up high enough to be seen in the mirror. 

“Open your eyes, sweet girl,” he groaned. “Look at yourself.”

At first, she shook her head, but then he tightened her grip on her hair. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to send a message. Her eyes fluttered open, and she finally saw what she was so worried about seeing. Her face was flushed, her eyes hazed over, her lips slightly bruised from where she was biting down on and didn’t even realize it.

“I wish you could see all that I could see,” Erik groaned. “So beautiful, taking me so well.”

She unknowingly backed her hips up at him mid-thrust, electing a soft chuckle from him. Her eyes left her own reflection and stared at his, seeing the way he gazed down at her. She didn’t want to convince herself of anything. Not now, not here. 

He let go of her wrist and her hair, pulling her body back up to be flushed up against his chest. She turned her head so she could actually look at him and not his reflection. His hand cupped her breast as he continued to move inside her.

“Tell..” she stopped herself. 

He stopped moving. “Tell what?” he asked. 

She shook her head, rocking herself back and front and trying the mimic the way it felt only a few seconds ago. “Ignore me,” she replied.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, sweet girl,” he said softly. “Say it.���

She closed her eyes again, turning her face away from him. “Erik, not now.”

He pulled out of her entirely, whirling her around to face him. “I can’t enjoy this if I think you’re not.”

She grabbed his face with both of her hands. “I am enjoying this,” she said, pulling his face down to kiss him. He kissed her back, hesitantly. Slowly, she started shuffling her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. One bed. It was the only vacant room in the motel. 

She crawled onto the bed, stopping when her face met the soft pillow. She was on her knees, her back arched, showing herself to him. This could be her most vulnerable, but when she felt Erik move into bed behind her, grab her hips, and flip her onto her back, she felt more exposed than ever before.

“I want to see you,” he explained. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

She pulled him down so that he was hovering on top of her, forearms boxing in her head. Her hand pulled him down to kiss her while the other hand grabbed him and lined himself back up with her. He sank in completely, and she moaned into his mouth. 

“Please tell me, my girl,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss. 

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. “Tell me you like me, Erik. Tell me how good…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence before his hips snapped against hers. He grabbed a spare pillow and shoved it under her hips, creating a different angle that she could feel. 

“You’re squeezing me just right,” he groaned. “So perfect. You’re taking me so well, sweet girl.”

Her back arched involuntarily, her chest meeting his with ragged breaths. She wanted more, and he could tell.

“You want to make me proud, don't you?” he teased. “I can see it in everything you do. Look at what I’m seeing.”

He brought her gaze to between their bodies, where he was hovering enough over her that they could watch him disappear into her with every thrust. 

“You don’t know how perfect you feel,” he groaned. “Wrapped around me like you were made for me. Only for me. Your mine.”

She cried out, digging her fingernails into the skin of his shoulders. Erik dipped down to kiss her, helping her through her orgasm. With the way she was tightening around him, he didn’t last that much longer. Groaning, he quickly pulled himself out of her, letting himself finish on her stomach. She was panting, her thighs that were tight against his hips were shaking. After a moment to catch their breaths, he dropped himself onto the bed next to her. He took one look at her stomach and got out of bed, walking to the bathroom. He grabbed her clothes and a wash cloth he ran under warm water. Before walking back out, he quickly pulled on his boxers. 

When he came back into the bedroom, she had pulled at the sheets enough to cover her breasts and thighs. Erik chuckled softly, making a teasing remark on her modesty at this point. He wiped her stomach clean and helped her back into her clothes. She sighed at the feeling of his rough hands against her skin. 

He climbed back into bed beside her, pulling the blankets up over both of them. He noticed her hesitancy and how frozen she seemed under the blankets, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled him against him.

“I may not be telepathic, but I can see when you’re thinking,” he commented. “What is it?”

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his expressions. “I know what we are, Erik. But sometimes it still stings.”

“And what do you think we are?” he asked, his eyes burning into her. 

“It’s just sex between us,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I know that.”

He signed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Quietly, he said her name, and then repeated it so that she would look at him for once. “It’s not just sex, sweet girl. I could spend every waking moment with you, not even touching, and that would be enough to keep me content. I just happen to like the way you kiss me.”

Her eyes were almost sad. “Erik,” she whispered. “If I didn’t side with you, and we weren’t on the run..”

“I would risk arrest if that meant catching a sight of you.”

She chuckled softly, closing her eyes as she felt his nose brush against her cheek. “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that ‘cause you were just inside me 5 minutes ago.”

Erik pressed a kiss against her lips. “No, I’m saying that because I mean it.”

[yandere-fetish]

Yandere Patient X Female Reader

Part One

warnings: disrespect, rude, slow burn

Yandere Patient is a highly dignified CEO on his way to one of his many companies from the vast countryside. He's reading the newspaper and catching up on the latest magazines, detailing the latest hot topics and debates. The indifferent expression paired with wire framed glasses only made his handsome face more attractive.

The driver comes to a stop at a stop sign while looking both ways. There's no one around. He turns right to drive towards the city.

Yandere Patient reaches for a small drink out of the mini fridge, then the car jerks.

*SKIIIRRRTT*

*CRASH*

Yandere Patient is knocked out as his legs are disfigured in a gory way. The pain was unbearable, but Yandere Patient was in no condition to feel the pain due to the concussion. His eyes flutter shut as the driver is crawling out the front seat, attempting to check on his master.

Yandere Patient scowls at his uncle's suggestion. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him. He doesn't need an extra person supervising the way he moves or watching his every breath.

Yandere Patient didn't need a babysitter. He's a damn grown man, for God's sake!

"They're not a babysitter. They would live in the servants quarters and tend to your needs. Just treat them like a maid. They would only aid you when you need them to—"

"*scowls* And I won't need them!"

"*sigh* Nephew, there's just some things you need to understand in life, mainly that there's no 'I' in 'team'. You cannot do everything by yourself."

"Tch. Watch me! *wheels away in his new wheelchair*"

"Jenna, *sighs and stares at a picture of his sister* what am I going to do with this kid?"

This is where you come in.

You show up at noon, ready to meet your newly appointed patient after hearing so many coworkers complain about how aggressive and snarky this patient has been since joining their agency as a client.

You really hadn't wanted to take this patient under your wing but since the agency was willing to fire anyone who didn't at least try, so you had to.

The sooner you come, the sooner you can leave.

So, here you are, standing on the doorstep of a luxurious mansion with a thirty-foot driveway. You'd never dream of living in a place such as this, let alone working in one.

Funny how you'd be doing both for a while.

When the door opens, you're greeted by a tall and broad-shouldered with a friendly smile. He welcomes you in while telling you, in detail, about his nephew's accident and his.. preferences.

At first, you're shocked and confused, but nonetheless you agree.

"I'm (Y/N) (L/N) from True Home Care. It's nice to meet you, Mister—"

"*scowls and ignores you* I thought they sent the last one?"

"Now, now, nephew. She's come all the way here. The least you can do is try her out for a day."

"I told you and that cheap company that I don't need anyone's help! I'll be fine on my own!"

"Just give her a chance. I'm certain it'll work out this time—"

*glares at his uncle and wheels away*

"*sighs* I apologize, Mrs. (L/N). He's moody, as you can tell. He should come around with some coaxing."

"I.. I'm sure he's not very open to strangers. I'd feel uncomfortable opening my home to one, especially several. And it's Miss— I'm not married. *smiles*"

"You're not? *clicks his tongue at the thought of an idea* I apologize again. Let me show you to your room for the time being."

It's been a a week since you first arrived at Yandere Patient's home. You've quickly become used to your room that's the size of a living room with a comfy as fuck bed to go with it. The 65" TV was definitely a nice addition, and let's not get started on the en suite bathroom and the walk-in closet.

To say you were happy was an understatement.

Now, though, you had wished you were still in your comfy bed instead of in the kitchen, gathering Yandere Patient's favorite tea.

In the sitting room was Yandere Patient and his uncle. They were once again discussing your presence in the mansion, as if you weren't in the other room. The loud noises made you flinch from time to time, but you just reminded yourself that whatever happens will happen. You've done your job well and that's all that matters.

When you're finished with the tea, you serve Yandere Patient, silently keeping yourself to the side while the two argue again.

After the uncle strikes a nerve into Yandere Patient, he walks out of the house. Yandere Patient is so pissed that he slams his hands on the table, making the teacup jump. You flinch as Yandere Patient fists his hands, his muscular arms flexing in anger as he suddenly begins to try to stand.

You're too late; Yandere Patient is all ready on the floor. He slams his fists into the hardwood, bruising them severely.

You're careful to go to his side, helping him up. Yet, the moment you touch his arm, Yandere Patient automatically shoves you away from him with a scowl.

You end up running into a sharp, marble vase table with nothing on it, luckily.

"Get the hell out of here! You're not wanted, nor needed here!"

"*on the verge of tears* You know what? Fuck you!"

"*bewildered at your sudden back talk* What..?"

"You think I want to take care of some selfish, inconsiderate twenty-some year old brat who only calls his uncle when he has a problem? I'd rather lay on my back and give birth to a child to take care of instead of someone like you! If it wasn't for the high pay, I wouldn't even be here taking this damn abuse! I work damn hard everyday to make sure your needs are met, and what do I get in return? Verbally ridiculed and now physically abused! I don't give a mother fuck if you're rich, handsome, or have power; my job is to take care of you and to only take care of you! If I wanted to care for a whiny and stubborn man, I'd go online and get myself a boyfriend!"

*stares wide eyed at you as you're huffing from anger and pain*

"Now, let me help you get up and to the bath so that I can take a fucking break, Sir."

After wheeling him into the bathroom and helping him undress, Yandere Patient is extremely docile and quiet. There's no protest or stubbornness coming from him, much to your relief.

Yandere Patient, on the other hand, notices how you skim over his body but you don't linger anywhere at all. He frowns, not really understanding why. Looking away as both of you help Yandere Patient into his wide garden tub, you silently tend to his needs.

Yandere Patient apologizes, to which you scoff at but accept his apology.

It's silent while you're helping him dry off and get dressed. Even while you're wheeling him to his bed.

But when you begin to aid him into bed, Yandere Patient notices the bruise from earlier forming into a nasty one.

Since your scrubs were moving to reveal your skin when you bend at an angle, he could see how clearly he had hurt you. Something churns in his heart at the memory of pushing you out of anger, embarrassment, and frustration.

Yandere Patient doesn't realize what he's doing until he's gently touching the bruise on your side.

"*flinches while standing up* What are you doing?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you.."

"It's.. it's all right. I'm not bleeding so there's nothing to worry about."

"*furrows his brows* It's not okay. I went too far. Let me make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Sir. There's nothing you need to make up for."

"I insist. I'll treat you to a meal, or a day at the spa? Girls care about their skin, right?"

"*smiles* It's not necessary, Sir. Have a good night. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

*after you've left*

"I'll make it up to you, somehow.. someway."

Part Two?

[pseudowho]

Thinking about Takuma Ino, who becomes a father so young when you fall unexpectedly pregnant. Thinking about the fear in your eyes, the shaking hands going to hold each other's, the positive test clasped between them. The way Takuma reassures you; "it's okay, it's okay, I always wanted to be a dad...sure, not this soon-- but we'll be fine. Better than fine, we'll be great."

The way Takuma goes for a walk that night, after you've cried yourself to sleep, crouching down in an alleyway with his beanie'd head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly ever be a good father. Wanting to marry you, to do things 'right', but afraid you'd think he only wanted to marry you because of the pregnancy.

The way Takuma arrives on his mother's doorstep (the mother who raised him alone, young, single) in the dead of night, pale-faced. The way his mother holds him as he cries and apologises at the dining room table, his face in her robed chest. The way she cups his face, and stares into his eyes; "we can do this, together, the right way. You're a good boy. Now be a good man."

The way Takuma learns to be a father, from his mother, who was his whole world. The way Takuma works himself to the bone, squirrelling money away, booking in with estate agents to go and view your first home together in a way that makes your hormonal heart clench.

The way Takuma's head hits the pillow, weary after working all night, then comes straight up again as he hears you vomiting in the bathroom, kneeling behind you to stroke your hair back, holding you gently round the waist on the tiled floor; "attagirl...it'll be better soon, right? Toughest girl I know. Doin' such a great job."

The way Takuma takes up embroidery, buying cheap plain clothes for the baby, because he can't afford much, but adding small artistic touches of beauty; a frog with a toadstool hat, a little trailing succulent vine, a shooting star.

The way Takuma is bright and excited; there for every scan, every class, every milestone. The way Takuma puts on a brave face. The way Takuma hides in the staffroom at work, his head in his hands, creaking under the weight of responsibility. The way he feels a strong hand clasp his shoulder, a beige suit, a blue shirt, a leopard print tie at the corner of his eye; "I know you're going to say no...but I'd like to buy a gift. For both of you. For the baby."

The way Takuma feels so ashamed for accepting help; the way a crib, a beautiful buggy, a snug and safe car seat, all gradually arrive at your new home. The way he tries to insist on paying Nanami Kento back. Nanami naturally refuses, pretends to be inordinately interested in his newspaper.

The way Takuma can't help but buy the baby a few beanies. The way you retaliate by buying an outfit that looks just like Ino's. He is thrilled.

The way Takuma's embroidery has advanced so well, he makes four little Auspicious Beasts to hang from a mobile above the crib.

The way Takuma paints beautiful, geometric, zany black and white shapes on the wall in the baby's bedroom; "They only see black, white and red at first babe. Neat, right?"

The way Takuma is pale throughout your labour, his eyes feverish, your pain so much harder than any battle he's ever been to. The way his tears hit him in a huge whooshing breath, a head-holding groan of relief when his baby son is placed on your chest, wet and crying, a little angry clenched face. The way Takuma rests his cheek on his arm at the top of your bed, gazing down and sniffling as his son holds his finger.

The way Takuma takes you both home, proud, woefully in love, still wondering how he's ever going to grow up and be a man, without realising he's already so much more of a man than so many others in this world.

Thinking about young dad Takuma Ino.

[spiderbeam]

congrats on 1k eve!!!! 🫶

🎧 + lando + 27 :)

🎧 — mercho by lil cake, migrantes & nico valdi

bonus: frat au!lando

You can still hear the music coming from downstairs as you stand inside the bathroom. It’s more muted now, but not easily ignored.

Your top is on the sink. Pretty, expensive, and now with a personalized stain of cheap wine bleeding into the white fabric. There’s frustration boiling inside your gut as you stare at it. It’s ruined. It’s unsalvageable. It’s—

A gentle knock on the door.

“You okay in there?” Lando asks from outside his bathroom, voice slightly muffled.

You inhale sharply, nodding even though he can’t see you. You start pulling his orange shirt over your head as you open the door, shrugging it on.

When your face finally pokes through, you find Lando leaning against the doorframe, eyes expectant. He smiles, dimples showing. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, averting your eyes to look down around his shirt. “So. I look like a traffic cone.”

Lando clicks his tongue as his eyes drop to his own shirt wrapped around your frame. “I think the words you’re searching for are thank you.” His gaze lingers, before returning back to your face. “I can take it back if you don’t want it.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. I’m not going back to a frat party without a shirt on.”

Lando shrugs, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Suit yourself.” But then, even inside his dimly-lit room of his frat, you can see his eyes staying a moment too long on his papaya-colored shirt.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answers, a bit too quickly. Lando smiles at you, and for just a moment, you think you can see pink dusting his cheeks. “Nothing, it’s just… never mind. It looks good on you, I guess. Oversized stuff, I mean. Not that I didn’t like your other shirt—”

“I thought you frat boys were supposed to be smooth.”

“I am,” Lando replies defensively. “Or I can be. When I want to.” You make a noncommittal ‘ah’ before Lando tilts his head towards the door of his bedroom. “Whatever. Ready to join the party again?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Lando offers his hand, and you’re not quite sure why you choose to take it. You’re not that close—friends, sure, but less of the type that tell each other secrets, and more of the kind that can share a laugh at a party. And so, when you got your entire front drenched in wine, you expected Oscar to come to your aid, maybe Logan—but Lando?

He guides you out of his room and down the stairs with his hand still holding yours. The music beats against your eardrums. You can hear shouting from downstairs, alongside singing and cheering. Funny, how for a moment there your whole night seemed to be ruined—and yet the party didn’t even stumble.

By the time you reach the end of the stairs with Lando, the song that’s blearing over the speakers is making it hard to hear anything other than its lyrics. And yet, even past the music that threatens to make your head spin, you still manage to spot him across the room. The reason you got cheap wine spilled on you. The reason Lando had to come to your rescue in the first place.

Your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pretending not to notice, but you can see him angling his face towards you. His eyes drop to your—Lando’s—shirt, to your hand in his. And only then do you realize he seems to be talking to another girl, his hands on her waist.

Asshole.

Lando notices. “You okay? We can—”

You turn to him abruptly. “Do you wanna dance?”

Lando blinks at you, brow twitching. “What?”

“Do you wanna dance?” you repeat, still feeling your ex’s stare on you. You tilt your head towards the mass of people on the opposite side of the room, still holding his hand.

The corner of his lips curve upward, and he laughs lightly, but follows you into the dance floor anyway. The music seems to vibrate against the walls. Bodies bump against yours, swaying to the song. Your hands settle around Lando’s neck, his resting on your waist.

Lando leans closer to your ear. “I know what you’re doing, you know.” He’s looking somewhere behind you—you wonder if he’s meeting your ex boyfriend’s stare. You hope he looks pissed. You hope it ruins his night.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answer simply.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s okay.” His eyes drop from your face, to his shirt, to your lips. “I don’t mind being used by you.”

the funny thing about this song is that mercho (song title) is just slang for mercedes lmao

eve’s 1k event 🎧

[recluselecter]

Jealousy

Leto Atreides x Ex-Wife! Reader

pairings: Leto Atreides x Ex-wife! Reader summery: When y/n spends the night of Leto's inauguration party with another man, he can't help dragging her away. warnings: uses she:her pronouns, mother! reader, jealous Leto, possessive Leto, Non-canon compliant, choking, breeding, cunnilingus mention, voyeuristic if you squint REAL hard. Words: 1.7k

Y/n’s hips were guided grotesquely against a stranger's crotch, drunken babbling tumbling from his lips. The wine in her glass had been spilt and emptied long ago, the red liquid having stained her dress. She didn’t care. She kept her eyes on the new Emperor, hair perfectly styled, beard immaculately trimmed, suit crisp and void of Arrakkis’ sand. She hadn’t seen him since they lived there. After Paul gained the title of Emperor for his father, Leto disappeared, taking Paul and their daughter. This was six months ago. As his coffee eyes burned into her skin, she thought of how he’d avoided seeing her as much as possible, passing their child to her through servants. Now though, he couldn’t avoid her. And it was killing him. She looked perfect, the stain on her dress adding to the gorgeous mess that was Y/n.

Leto Atreides hated her for it.

He stormed up to her, snatching her arm and pulling her away from the stranger.

“What the fuck, Leto!” She yelled over the hustle and bustle of the inauguration party. Leto dragged her through the halls of his new palace, opened a door, and shoved her in. When Y/n observed the room around her, she realized it was a very fancy bathroom.

Y/n glared at Leto. The wine on her dress was her fourth glass, and, gauging by the way she was swaying, she was wasted. Leto looked down at her as rage rose in both of their chests.

“You need to go home,” he stated.

“Why do you care what I do?” She snapped.

“I care that my ex-wife is fucked up in a ballroom of a house that isn’t hers.” The Duke took a dangerous step toward her, his own drink spurring him on. “I care that the bitch I’m forced to call the mother of my child is grinding on random men.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed. “I only call you when it’s late, Duke Atreides. You think I give two shits about your jealousy?” Her words struck a nerve in him as she slurred them out. “I only care about you when you’re fucking my brains out.”

He snapped. Leto’s hands slammed against the counter, his body shoving hers against the extravagant sink. She gasped, legs automatically falling open around him. He loomed over her, rage seething through him. His knuckles were white from his grip on the sink, barely holding himself together. He thought the expensive porcelain would crack under his palms as he leaned closer to his ex-wife. With inches between them, he knew she’d try to kiss him. His plan was dependent on it. Like clockwork, she angled her head up, her lips grazing his before his hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her back. She huffed as he scowled at her, but it was turned into a yelp when he forced her to turn around, bending her over the sink by her neck. He tilted his head at her in the mirror where she glared at him. He didn’t break eye contact as he hiked up her skirt, baring her panties to him. The red fabric matched her dress and her now blushing cheeks.

Leto’s hands snaked around her hips, pulling her back against his clothed erection. She hummed lightly as her hips rolled against him, pulling a small groan from his throat. He leaned forward, whispering in her ear as he tore her panties. “You’re a little slut, you know that?” He leaned back again, nearly salivating at the sight of her bare before him. “No better than a cheap whore.” Her cunt was glistening and had Leto resisting the urge to kneel before her and devour her. His mouth watered for the taste of her, having laid between her legs until the hot Arrakkis sun rose in the sky many times. That was long ago, before he was Emperor. Before he divorced her. For a man who prided himself on his independence as Emperor, he knelt quite often for the woman who vexed him. 

She writhed against the sink as he let his fingertips trail lightly around her thighs, avoiding the place she actually wanted him. He pinned her legs to the porcelain, stopping all movement while he teased her. He leaned forward once more, growling in her ear. “You want this?” He let his middle finger enter her just a little, making her cry out in her desperate haze. Y/n nodded vigorously, and for once, Leto complied. He shoved one finger inside her to the knuckle, groaning at how tightly she gripped him. A curse slipped from his tongue, already weak at the knees. Leto Atreides was–and had been for years–wrapped around her finger. Should she ask him to kneel, he would kneel. He desperately hid it from her, but he knew deep inside just how far his devotion went. If she told him to take a knife to the throat, he would enthusiastically if it meant pleasing her.

Leto moved quickly, adding another right before he knew she’d be ready. After decades of bedding her, he knew her body like his own, and her squeak made him twitch in his trousers. He pumped his fingers into her pussy at a cruel pace, too fast to ignore the pleasure, but too slow to get off. She whimpered and cried under him like a pathetic little kitten, palming at his forearms to get him to stop. He bit her neck as he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt. He ripped it from his trousers and unbuttoned the damned pants. Y/n started to protest when his fingers slipped from her wet cunt, but went silent quickly when she looked in the mirror to find him indulging himself, his fingers in his mouth. As he tasted her, he slid his boxers down his hips. She watched hungrily as more of his body was revealed to her. His cock sprung free proudly, and she found herself staring. He grabbed himself, moaning when he slid his hand from the tip to the base, the way she did when she used to pleasure him. His wrist twisted just once before he slid back down to the base, teeth grit as he watched his ex-wife in the mirror. For a moment both were mesmerized by the other. The Emperor found himself admiring her skin and her eyes before he snapped out of it, anger coming back. 

She seemed to have the same epiphany as he lined himself up with her. He slid into her easily, and she tightened around him as he entered. He fell forward, holding himself up over her shaking body. He cussed as he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming himself back in. Y/n cried out under him as he set a brutal pace, one hand slipping to her hip.

“Fuck-!” She whined, pressing her face to the counter to cool it.

“Hands on the mirror, baby.” he gritted out. She obeyed, hands slamming against the mirror and providing more stability to the pair.

A knock hit the door, making Y/n jump. She began to stand up, but Leto shoved her back down by the back of her neck, boot slamming against the door to stop it from opening. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!” He snarled. His hips didn’t stop thrusting relentlessly into her as the intruder spoke through the door.

“Emperor Atreides, you must give your speech!”

Leto ignored him, speeding up. Y/n shrieked, legs shaking as he fucked her. His hand slipped to her thigh, forcing it up on the counter and allowing him deeper. He braced himself over her, moaning into her shoulder.

“Show me how much you missed me, baby.” He grunted. She whined under him, brain not working properly. “Do I need to tell you what you already know?” he demanded breathlessly. Y/n gasped as Leto’s hand buried in her hair, yanking her up against his body with his arm around her throat. The mirror loomed in front of her. Leto studied her tear-stained face, her mascara running as he refused to stop moving. She watched his cock disappear into her weeping pussy, her face bright red. “Look how good you take it.” He groaned, watching as his cock reappeared each time, shining with her arousal. Lewd noises filled the bathroom as he ravaged her, as he claimed her.“You’re mine, remember?” he spoke, his voice low and rough in her ear. “This body is mine. This cunt is mine.” Y/n nodded, hands clinging to his arm. “Other men don’t get the privilege of what is mine.” She gasped as his arm tightened around her throat, just barely choking her. 

“Yours.” She moaned out. Leto fought the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. He groaned as his stomach tensed, his orgasm coming fast. Y/n clung to him as she came, crying out his name.

“That’s it, darling. Come on, let it out.” He grunted, arm moving from her throat to her waist to hold her up when her legs gave out. Her eyes rolled back, brain numb from the wine and his cock. Seeing her stupid made him snap, moaning as he came deep inside her. She whimpered in his arms, shaking. He rode out his high, groaning into her neck until he came down. He let her down slowly, letting her brace herself on the sink before pulling himself out of her.

He didn’t bother tucking himself away, not until he watched his cum seep from her pussy. As it did, he ran his fingers through it, scooping it back into her and shoving his fingers as deep as they’d go. She cried out, oversensitive. Leto hushed her, running his hand over her back and kissing her cheek.

“I know, my love,” He hummed, still fingering his cum back inside her. “But you know the rules.” Y/n nodded, gaining some feeling back in her legs as he slid his fingers from her. He licked each one individually, savoring the taste of the pair mixed together. His tongue slid over his own skin meticulously as he used his other hand to tuck himself away, refastening his belt.

Leto looked for Y/n’s panties, but only found the scrap of what he’d ruined. Shit. They were going to have to do a raincheck on the inauguration speech. Especially with her current state. Leto gently lifted her into his arms after pulling her dress over her. His past lover automatically snuggled into his neck, arms around him. Emperor Atreides smiled as he planned their escape.

[iridescentparkers]

lavender haze •.˚⚘ ⋆.*.ゞ

a/n - i thought this was so funny as i was doing this exact thing! no warnings just fluff.

“INFUSED WITH LAVENDER AND CHAMOMILE,” Peter announced in your bathroom, reading the container of your eye gel patches you used before bed each night. “Whatever, these don’t work.”

“Who told you that?” you giggled, using the jade roller to set them on your face as you looked at Peter in the bathroom mirror. 

“Science,” he said confidently, looking at you in the bathroom mirror. “Companies try to fool you with big words and cutesy smells.” 

“Well, these big words and cutesy smells make my eyes less puffy and relax me before bed.” You laughed. 

“You don’t even need this dumb stuff,” he informed, dropping the packaging. “You already look stunning.” 

He stood at your side and wrapped his hand along your waist as he peppered kisses around your face before nuzzling into your neck, “I’m going to get some sleep, and you should start investing in some real sleep remedies.” 

AFTER A LATE NIGHT, you dragged the balls of your high heels to your apartment door, opening it before throwing down your painfully cheap heels that needed to be trashed. 

You were still sober despite the rampant club scene you left and trembling at your bedroom door. 

Swinging the door open, Peter was sleeping deeply on his side of your bed. His suit was still halfway on, and he had barely made it under the covers. He was lying on his stomach, his cheek squished into the pillows, and his mouth hung slightly open.

Giggling to yourself, you sat next to him, rubbing a hand on his back to let him know you were home. Mid circle, you stopped, looking at the bright purple stripes underneath his eyes. 

“What are these,” you whispered, tapping the two lavender stripes. 

He didn’t move but spoke up softly, “Fine, you were right.”

“About?” You asked sarcastically, pursing your lips upwards as his eyes remained shut. 

“I got home at 12 and was headed to bed before I saw them lying on the sink.” He began, opening his eyes and wiping the slight drool before he came to a seated position. “I put these on just to test them out, and I guess.. I passed out.”

He gestured towards the eye patches, and you giggled at his frown accompanied by his tired expression. “It’s just the lavender smell, I swear.” 

You kissed his cheek before moving to your bathroom, “Maybe, just this once, science was wrong after all.”

[drunkenlionwrites]

Bodyguard!Toji x rich girl!reader

This guy does something to me 🥵 I'll be the sugar mama for this freeloader any time no questions asked. Based on the ask: 'bodyguard toji makes me so feral!!' Warnings: afab! reader, mentions of ptsd, depression, panic attacks, reader's unhealthy attachment, mentions of smut, toji is his own warning

You’ve hired a stay-in bodyguard Toji among few other men after the kidnapping attempt of you, minister’s daughter was successful and you’ve felt restless and plagued with ptsd, cooped in your apartment constantly watching over security cameras footage.

Bodyguard Toji that had a reputation of notoriously callous man, often behaving rudely and having violent outburst which affected the image of rich/famous people who have hired him previously.

Bodyguard Toji, who despite that was a professional, expert marksman and specialist in close combat. A walking intimidating mountain of muscle.

Bodyguard Toji, who threw off his suit vest, tie, and cufflinks once he received the uniform and never wore anything like that, sticking out like a sore thumb among other bodyguards of yours. His most formal look being a sweatshirt and dress pants.

Bodyguard Toji, who never hesitated to call his job “babysitting” in front of you. Nevertheless, always being on guard and diligently doing what he was paid to do.

Bodyguard Toji, who remained your sole bodyguard, who proved in time that he was enough. He was too much sometimes.

Bodyguard Toji, whose phone number you refused to give to all your acquaintances who’ve been inquiring about him.

Bodyguard Toji, who surprisingly turned out to be pretty intelligent and smart man and a great conversationalist, despite his attitude and crude language.

Bodyguard Toji, who intimidated/beat up people who’ve been to handsy with you in bathroom stalls when you went out clubbing.

Bodyguard Toji, who took you out for late night drives, brought you to shady pachinko parlors, underground clubs, cheap fast-food places to “show the spoiled brat the real world”.

Bodyguard Toji, who found the paparazzi who took a photo of your coochie when you’ve been getting out the car and broke his camera and both legs.

Bodyguard Toji, who loved to fuck you against a huge window of your penthouse apartment, looking down the city view and mocking you for spreading your legs for your good-for-nothing bodyguard instead of some rich Ivy league boy or businessman.

Bodyguard Toji, who knew your mind and body like no one else. Making you come with only a few precise thrusts of his cock paired with few praises and slurs.

Bodyguard Toji, without whom you cannot picture living your life anymore, your anchor, your protector and companion.

Bodyguard Toji, who’s helping you cope with panic attacks and anxiety better than any psychiatrist, therapist, or pills.

Bodyguard Toji, who notices your unhealthy attachment to him, but does nothing about it, relishing the feeling of power he has over you + all the benefits he has of working for you.

Bodyguard Toji, who smugly smirks at your father whenever he frustratingly remarks that “the savage brute” is still working for you.

Bodyguard Toji, who fucks you silly, tucks you in bed but never stays to sleep with you, despite your desperate pleads. “It’s not a part of his contract” he says and leaves to his part of your apartment after wishing you goodnight.

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Paris

Alexia Putellas x Reader [SMUT! bottom! AP x top! R]

this was based on a song (only the last scene), the lyrics are at the end. this is long, full of smut, I hope you enjoy.

CW : cockwarming, semi-public sex.

//

“Now boarding flight 112 to Paris, First Class passengers are welcome to board.”

“Come on, that’s us.”

“Whatever for?”

“Babe, you didn’t think I would cheap out on our honeymoon did you?”

“Is this why you’ve been keeping the whole thing a secret?”

“Sí, come on,” you pull her to her feet, pressing your lips to hers. “Just trust me.” 

Heading into the plane, a flight attendant was waiting to escort you both to your slightly private suite. She explained that a meal would be served right after takeoff and that complimentary champagne was on the way. Settling into the seats, Alexia leans over and kisses your cheek.

“You know you don’t need to woo me anymore right? I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“I know, but I thought it would be nice to treat you to something nice myself, not the club.”

“You’re already a treat bebé.”

You punch her arm, just as the flight attendant comes back with two bubbly flutes of champagne.

“Salud,” Alexia says with a wink, clinking her glass to yours before taking a slow, teasing sip.

“Cheers, baby girl,” you quip back, sipping from your glass. 

//

The flight attendants had come over and prepped your suite into a bedroom just as you and Ale went into the bathrooms to change. You requested not to be disturbed until we were landing, and the flight attendants were more than happy to send two more flutes of champagne to the room before leaving you two alone.

Sipping on your perfectly chilled champagne, Ale reaches over and wraps her arms around yours. She leans in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. You press a long kiss to her forehead and go back to the TV, grumbling when there aren’t new shows to watch.

“There is literally nothing on here that I haven’t watched already,” you say, scrolling through the in-flight entertainment. Ale moved her hand into your lap, playing with the hem of your shirt as she leaned against your shoulder.

“You haven’t looked at me once since we got on this plane,” she says suddenly, sitting up and pouting at you.

“Huh?” you say, pulling off the headphones.

“You heard me.”

“Ale, of course, I have.”

“No, are you already tired of me?” she mocks with a pout, crossing her arms for dramatic effect. You smirk knowingly, catching her drift. You turn the TV off, turning to face her.

“There, you have my attention.”

“Hmph, now I don’t want it.”

“Bratty 30000 feet up Ale, must be a new record.”

“I’m not bratty, just so needy,” she drags the so, leaning over and pressing herself to you. The seats were now a big bed, fully reclined as you had about an hour left of the flight. Your arm pulled her in closer, knowing that you had privacy and would not be caught. She snuggled closer, pulling both arms around her middle.

“Touch me,” she whispered, looking up with her puppy eyes. You merely smile, kissing her forehead and indulging her. It was our honeymoon, we’ve got time for dealing with brats later.

“Touch you where, Mi Reina?” you ask, palms caressing her arms softly as she whines softly.

“Anywhere, everywhere…” she huffs, leaning back into you more.

“Right on this plane, bebita? Where people could hear you?”

“I’ll be quiet, I promise,” she begs, looking up at you with tears in her eyes already, whimpering desperately.

“The Alexia I know is anything but,” you tease, reaching up for your carry-on and pulling out her favorite strap. She looks at you with wide surprised eyes, sitting up hurriedly.

“You brought that here?!” she asks in a hushed whisper, eyes as wide as saucers as you pull it on.

“Were you expecting us to be celibate on our honeymoon, amor?” you teased, slipping back into bed. You pull her close, hand slowly slipping her silk pajama pants down. You reach forward and rub her clothed heat, her lips captured in yours in a searing kiss. She pulls away to moan, slapping her hand to her mouth in shock while you hold back laughter.

“You have to be quiet darling, I told the flight attendants to leave us alone but the other passengers certainly don’t need to hear you being such a slut at 30000 feet now do they?”

“No…” she whimpers, pressing her ass back into your hips. The strap pokes her in between her legs and grazes her clothed pussy. She bites back a moan, almost stuffing her whole wrist in her mouth. Your fingers haven’t stopped touching her, now slipped into her underwear to fondle her folds. She bites the flimsy pillow the airline provided you with, groaning softly as her legs open on their own. 

You slip two fingers into her, your arm slipping under her head while your hand presses tightly against her mouth to keep her quiet. She melts back into you, your fingers working her open as quietly and as quickly as possible.

“Hurry,” she mumbles behind your hand, legs trembling as you press your fingers into her sweet spot. As three fingers begin to feel no resistance, you pull away and hold her legs open, the strap slipping inside her slick hole with ease. She gasps but bites her lip hard, her body relaxing with a dopey smile on her face.

You throw the blanket over her, tucking her in a little before settling close to her and pulling on your eye mask. Alexia stares at you in disbelief, ripping the eye mask off your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she whispered, trying to move away from you. You grab her hip and hold her close, taking the eye mask back from her calmly.

“We’ve got an hour left on the flight baby, I suggest you get comfortable,” you tell her, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She huffs, turning away and wiggling her hips back against you.

You ignore her, pulling your eye mask back on and settling into sleep. Ale doesn’t stop fidgeting, essentially fucking herself on your cock. You grab her hip tighter this time, thrusting your hips into her when she begins to fuss. She gasps and gets the wind knocked out of her.

“Quit squirming, or you don’t get my cock the whole fucking holiday,” you say, “we don’t want that now, do we?”

“No Daddy,” she whispers to you, eyes closed as her hand reaches for yours holding her hip to interlace. You pull it towards your mouth and kiss the back of her hand, resting it back on her hip to keep her close. Your cock slips deeper into her, your arm wrapping around her middle. You slip into a light sleep, hyperaware of your surroundings just in case the flight attendants come around.

Alexia doesn’t seem to care though, hips grinding back onto your cock ever so slightly that if you were properly asleep you wouldn’t have noticed. You pretend to sleep anyway, wanting to see how brave Alexia could be.

After about 5 minutes of her feather-light grinding, she had worked herself up way too much to care about people finding out. She bites the shitty pillow again, grinding back into you harder. She’s whining, hand gripping your hip instinctively. You pull out and she gasps, turning around to look at you. You stand, taking off the wet strap and wrapping it in a towel.

“Get up. Bathroom. Now.” you growl, opening the suite door and ushering her to the back of the plane.

She practically runs in there, looking around at the spacious shower and vanity. You follow her inside and lock the door. She stands there rubbing her legs together, silk pajamas a little damp between her legs. You begin to strip and slip the strap back on, Alexia staring at your naked form with her jaw wide open.

“Strip, what are you waiting for?”

She does as you say, shyly pulling off her sticky pants and ruined underwear. You run the shower exactly how she likes, before stepping in and helping her join you. She presses her lips to yours hard, tongues battling it out for dominance.

You grab her waist and turn her around, face pressed into the fancy tiled walls of the first-class suite bathroom. You spank her ass hard, hot water cascading down her arched back beautifully. She moans, your hand pressing over her mouth once again before pulling her back and arching her back even more. She whines.

“People can hear you, my sweet. Take what I give you and keep your mouth shut hm?” you whisper into her ear as you slip the cock into her gaping pussy. She groans, your hips pounding into her hard and fast. You let go of her and reach for her hips instead, pulling her back onto your cock.

Alexia struggles to keep herself quiet, biting her firm forearm to keep her moans at bay. You spank her ass one more time, gripping the abundant flesh that gets her eyes to roll into her head.

“Fuck, Daddy…” she whines, hands pressed on the clean glass of the shower. She pushes her ass back into you, her ass meeting your hips in a wet slap. You’re sure the whole back section of the plane could hear just a little of your sexcapade but you couldn’t care less.

You pound your cock into her harder and harder, grabbing her shoulders for more leverage. Her legs shake as she cums hard, orgasm ripping through her body just as the water cools down. You pull out, turning her around and kissing her passionately.

“Amor, you…” she starts but you press a finger to her lips.

“Later,” you say, pointing to the monitor in the middle of the bathroom, “We’re landing soon.”

As you quietly slip back into your seats, the bed has been cleared and your seats are refreshed with two bottles of water and another round of champagne. The flight attendant just leaving your suite winked at you and Ale with a knowing smile on her face. You smirk widely as Alexia tries to hide her face in your neck. The pilot comes over the intercom, 10 minutes before you land at your destination.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Paris.”

//

“The Panoramic Suite at the Mandarin Oriental is ready for you, ma’am. Your bags are already in your room and I do hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Pierre,” you grab the keys and take Alexia’s hand, walking towards the lifts at the end of the hall. She takes the keys from you, reading the room number.

“Panoramic Suite?” she asks, stopping you from pressing the button for the lift. “Is this right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Bebé, these rooms go for like $3000 per night.”

“Can you stop worrying, you chronic worrier?” you press the button and take her hands. You kiss her nose and watch her scrunch it cutely.

“It’s our honeymoon, can you just relax and enjoy yourself?” you tell her, pulling her into the lift. She nods and corners you as it goes up, grabbing your face and kissing you hard. She grins as your hands wrap around her hips and grasp her ass, kissing her back enthusiastically.

“We’re here 5 days darling, the suite is soundproof… you’ve already been fucked once… we can totally go again…” you tease, stepping out of the lift into your private section of the top floor. She practically runs to unlock the door, dragging you into the huge suite.

“Fuck me,” she breathlessly asks, already pulling off your clothes. You stop her, taking her hands in yours.

“Easy, bebita. We’ve got a dinner reservation at 6, we can have our private time when we get back sí?”

She pouts, nodding. You pull her in for a hug, rubbing the curve of her lower back and her ass. She smacks your chest and grins, a dark blush creeping up on her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a little gift for you that should make dinner…exciting.”

//

“Can you help me amor?” Alexia asks, pulling her earrings on as you step into the bathroom. You’ve got a simple black suit with an exposed bralette that Alexia likes while she pulls on a little cocktail dress that you adore on her. You stand behind her and help her zip it on, kissing her neck softly.

“Stunning as always, babygirl.”

“Mm, you always look so good in those,” she compliments, fixing your lapels. You smile and reach into your pocket, pulling out a black box.

“Here, put this on before we leave hm?” you lean in and kiss her cheek. “I’ll call for a cab.”

Alexia nods, biting her lip as she opens the box. She gasps and whips her head out of the bathroom and looks at you across the room at the phone. You look up at her and wink, turning your attention back to the call. She licks her lips, picking up the little Bluetooth vibrator in her hands.

“She’s full of surprises,” Alexia whispers to herself, walking into the bedroom to where you are. You’re slipping on a pair of high heels and adjusting your hair when Alexia sits in the middle of the bed. She opens her legs daringly, with no underwear in sight.

“Guess we both had plans of our own tonight,” you tell her, sitting in front of her at the desk. You lean back and watch her like a hawk, eyes following her hands as she makes a show of fingering herself to “open herself up.”

Two fingers deep she whines, lips turning into a pout. She looks up at you with hooded eyes, a cheeky question at the tip of her tongue.

“Can’t fit Daddy, can you help me?” she begs, throwing her head back in dramatic fashion. You saunter over, eyes dark and hooded. You stand over her, sucking on two of your fingers before pressing her legs open and slipping them into her. She yelps in surprise, your fingers scissoring her open fast and deep.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” she cries out, gripping your forearm and pressing her forehead to your bicep. You feel her begin to clench around your fingers and you stop, pulling your fingers out and slipping the vibrator into her.

“Wha-what?!”

You slip your fingers into your mouth for a little taste before helping her stand. She looks close to tears, your hand patting her cheek with an annoying smile across your face.

“Taxi’s here, gorgeous.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.”

//

“I’ll have the filet mignon, medium with the Pommes Aligot please,” you tell the waiter, phone in your hand under the table. Alexia sat across from you in the secluded section of the restaurant, pondering over what she wanted for dinner.

“I’ll do the Coq au Vin with the ah!” Alexia grunted, masking it as a cough looking up at the waiter embarrassed. You had just turned the vibrator inside her on, sending jolts of pleasure through her core.

“The Coq au Vin with dark meat only please,” she glares at you and hands the menu to the waiter, as you ordered the best red wine they had to go with dinner.

“Seriously?” she snaps at you, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as the vibrator goes at a soft buzz of 2. She crosses her legs and focuses on the waiter pouring the wine, drinking half the glass before reaching over for your hand.

Conversations over dinner with Alexia never get old. You could talk with her for hours and hours. Periodically you’d reach into your breast pocket and turn the dial up of the vibrator and watch her stutter, hand gripping yours just a little bit tighter.

As the waiter arrives with dinner, you cheekily turn it to a ten as he places her dish in front of her. She opens her mouth to say thank you like the polite woman she is but a choked moan leaves her throat. She manages to disguise it as a cough again as she reaches for her wine, although it’s not as convincing as the first time. You thank the waiter yourself and watch him leave a little confused, smiling as you turn the vibrator off for the time being.

“Nos van a prohibir la entrada a este lugar, amor…” she whines, picking up her silverware.

“Please, the owner is an old friend of mine. She’ll be out in a minute, she’s so excited to meet you,” you tell her nonchalantly, digging into your perfect wall-to-wall pink steak.

You both enjoy dinner and have a great conversation with the chef. She sends you home with a couple extra desserts to enjoy, promising to come visit you both in Barcelona.

In the taxi, Alexia pounces on you. Her hands rub the insides of your thigh, glossy lipstick leaving sticky residue all over your neck. You pull her close and rub at her hip, the vibrator turned up to a steady 5 that has her head spinning beyond measure.

“Un peu plus vite s’il vous plaît, elle ne se sent pas très bien.”

The driver nods and speeds up as you lean in and kiss Alexia. She melts into your side, her eyes sparkling with lust.

“I didn’t know you spoke French,” she whispers into your ear, tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

“You like?” you grin, hand grasping her waist tightly.

“Prefer it when you speak Spanish, papí.”

The driver pulls up outside the Mandarin Oriental and the doorman opens the door for you as you pay. Alexia holds your hand tight and leans into your side. She follows you upstairs quietly, seemingly in a submissive mood. You’ve turned the vibrator up since leaving the cab, the quiet hum of it seemingly a little louder than you thought it was. She’s laid beautifully in the middle of the big king-sized bed, legs open wide and dress hiked up as her first orgasm rips through her athletic body.

You kneel by her side and rub at her exposed clit gently, working her through her first of many orgasms that night.

“Fuck…” she whines, pulling you closer and in for a kiss. You oblige, stroking her cheek gently. You pull away and stand, taking off your jacket and pants. She kneels and turns her back to you at the edge of the bed. You get behind her and slowly unzip her dress, kissing her neck and shoulders softly.

“You did so well for me, mi esposa.”

You reach between her legs and gently pull the vibrator out of her, she sighs. “I have waited so long to call you that, cariño. It suits you.”  

“I love you, bebé,” she says, looking up at you.

“I love you too, mi amor. Let me take care of you now.”

You help her step out of the dress carefully, caressing her body from behind. She leans back into you, your lips biting the sensitive spot behind her ear. Your rough hands trace her figure and pull her ass back into yours like you did on the plane. She goes red as she remembers that moment too, biting her lip as she feels herself get wetter and wetter.

“On your back baby, I’ll just be a minute.”

You slip into the bathroom and grab the now clean strap, putting it on before slipping your phone onto the phone stand on the dresser. Music fills the room and you join your wife on the bed. You lay beside her and find her lips in a searing kiss.

She melts into your arms, hand grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Your fingers trail down her body, hand grasping her breast tightly which pulls out a deep moan from her. You lean down and kiss her neck and collarbone, slowly climbing on top of her to ravish her on your first night in Paris.

Your lips envelop her nipple tightly, sucking hard as your hand plays with the other. She squirms on the hypo-allergenic bedding, tugging at the perfectly tucked sheets. You pin her arms down, kissing down her sternum and biting hickeys all over her stomach.

“Amor,” she says breathlessly, “Amor por favor, apúrate…”

You nod, hands caressing down her hip bones to her upper thighs. You part her lips and jab your tongue into her wet folds, slurping at her pussy. She moans freely now, the room soundproofed for her to make all the noise she wants.

You slip two fingers inside her pussy, lips sucking tightly at her clit as she kicks her feet in pleasure. You don’t falter, fingers pumping into her soaking wet hole faster and deeper as your tongue dances over her swollen clit.

“JODER!” she yells, her second orgasm ripping through her before she begs for a break. You pull away with a wet grin on your face, her slick dripping down your chin. She whines and pulls you in for a kiss, whining high in her throat at the pungent taste of her on you. You pull away and press the fingers that were inside her into her mouth for her to clean, lips trailing back down to her breasts for you to bite and nibble at.

She sucks on your fingers earnestly, slipping them out with a loud smack. You move her away from the middle of the bed and lay there instead, beckoning her over. She throws her legs over yours and sits on your hips, hands reaching for your cock and spitting on it. You moan at the sight, eyes focused on hers.

“Want me to ride you, bebita?” she asks with a smirk, hovering over your cock as the tip presses into her just a little.

“Sí, hermosa,” you say, hands caressing her hips as just a sliver of light from the abundant Paris skyline filters into the dark room. It illuminates her features perfectly, her hazel eyes bright and full of emotion that got your heart filling with love.

She notices the far-away look you’ve got on your face, her hands reaching for your face to pull you back to her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, beginning to move off you. Your hands on her hips grip her tight and keep her where she is.

“Yes, sorry. Just…thinking about how much I love you,” you smile and sit up for a bit, kissing her softly. You lay back down as she cheekily pushes you back onto the bed, kneeling above you and slowly slipping onto your cock.

She hums softly, leaning back to adjust to your cock. You rub at her muscular thighs, eyes filled with love and lust for your wife as she begins to ride your cock. Her big hands rest on your stomach for leverage, taking the full length of the strap inside her.

“Fuck, you look so pretty riding my cock,” you tease, spanking her ass hard as she leans back to ride you faster. She cries out your name as she finds her sweet spot, grinding into you as her legs begin to burn. The lights shimmer over her olive skin, beads of sweat dripping down her face and chest as your hands fondle her breasts.

“Please bebita, need you…” she begs, legs too tired to go on. She climbs off you and lays on her stomach, her head resting on her hands. You move behind her, noticing a little smile on her lips.

You grin, kissing down her back as your hands pull her hips back into you. You stroke your cock a couple of times, the silicone wet with Alexia’s arousal. You slip back into her pussy with no resistance, fucking into her slowly to work up a rhythm.  

She throws her head back in pleasure and moans loudly when your cock grazes her sweet spot, your hips angled to hit it over and over till she begs for you to come.

“Please amor, I’m so close!”

“Fuck, come for me baby,” you grunt, fucking into her harder as she comes again. This time she squirts all over the towel you laid down earlier as you pull out. She turns over and giggles, turning a little red in embarrassment.

“Hey,” you call out, pulling her hands away from her face, “that was so sexy.”

“I’ve…I’ve never, that’s never happened before.”

“I know, and I so want to do it again.”

You kiss her, pulling her off the bed. She follows you to the secluded balcony with a view of the Eiffel Tower. It’s midnight and there’s not a soul in sight. You hold her close, cock slipped back into her pussy. Alexia whines, head hung low as she feels the sensitivity get to her.

“Just one more, darling. Give me one more,” you growl into her ear, hips pounding your cock into her sloppy pussy. The angle gives you the perfect height to fuck into her sweet spot, her legs already trembling with a few powerful thrusts.

You grab her hips as she holds onto the railing. She looks down at all the people walking, noticing a couple dancing in the street. She smiles to herself and lets the pleasure take over, making a mental note to ask you to dance tomorrow night with her along the streets of romantic Paris.

You pull out and turn her around, hiking her leg up and sliding your cock back into her. She wraps her arms around your neck, kissing you hard just as both of you reach your highs. It’s the best orgasm of the night for her, your prolonged teasing gives you an ear-ringing one as well.

“I love you so much,” she says between kisses, jumping up into your arms as you take her back inside for a much-needed bath.

The water was warm as your arms wrapped around her in the bath, music from earlier now playing from the speakers in the bathroom. You sang along to her; she smiled and listened to you as she melted into her safe place; her wife's arms.

Je te laisserai des mots

En d'ssous de ta porte

En d'ssous de les murs qui chantant…

[mawrmyy]

lucky

Joel Miller x f!reader

warnings:

18+ !!! minors dni !!!

smut, unprotected piv (wrap it up y'all!!), pet names (darling, baby, angel, etc), infidelity but not really (it'll make sense if you read it i promise) oral f! and m!receiving, driving over speed limits, alcohol consumption, dirty bathroom floors. lmk if i missed anything :)

It’s late, nearly midnight. You could be at home now, resting after a long day at work. The weekend welcomes you with open arms, and it smells like laundry detergent and fresh-brewed coffee.

The floor of the bar is sticky. You’re sure every drink that’s been spilled on the linoleum floor has a story of its own, sticking to the soles of your shoes, begging you to listen.

You ignore it, making your way towards the counter, calculating how to get as much alcohol in your system as fast as possible. Whiskey, please, you tell the bartender, and he obliges.

Now, with a cold glass cup in your hand, you finally sit down on a bar stool and allow your eyes to lazily scan your surroundings. A group of four, seemingly in their early twenties, sit at a table to your left, talking and laughing loudly. In front of you sits an overweight man with a long white beard, downing what you assume is at least his seventh glass of beer. He notices you looking and gives you a glance that practically yells fuck you looking at? You take that as your sign to look away, and your eyes continue scanning the room.

That’s when you see him, across the bar. He’s already looking at you, eyes dark and hooded. He’s handsome, probably around his late 40s, with graying hair and a short scruffy beard. You feel your cheeks heat up from the intensity of his gaze, and you look back down to the glass cup between your warm palms. 

When you look back to meet his eyes once again, you see he’s taking a swig of his drink before getting up. For a split second your heart drops, assuming he’s leaving, but instead, he starts making his way across the sticky floors, directly towards you. You swallow your anxiety, as well as another sip of whiskey, before setting the cup down with a soft thud. You watch him walk, your heartbeat quickening with every step he takes. Before you know it, he’s sitting on the stool beside you, and your heart is just about to leap out of your chest. He’s looking at you, studying your face carefully, gauging your reaction before he speaks. 

“Hi,” He says sheepishly, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “I’m Joel.” He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, chuckling quietly at the awkwardness of it all.

“Hi Joel,” You say, keeping eye contact and smiling at him warmly. You tell him your name, and he smiles back, a hearty lopsided grin that you can’t help but want to kiss.

“Saw you from across the bar,” Joel tells you. “‘S a nice dress. Suits you,” He says, signaling to the tight little black dress you decided to wear this evening. You blush at his words.

The two of you make conversation, talking for over an hour about how uncharacteristically warm it’s been this winter, and Quentin Tarantino’s filmography, and why the hell are there so many shots of feet?! 

He asks you if you have a boyfriend, and his eyes follow yours as you look to the thin golden ring sitting pretty on your finger. Joel swallows, but doesn’t mention it again.

It’s nearly 1 am when you ask him do you dance, Joel? His large hand is in yours as you lead him to the makeshift dance floor near the billiard table. There are two other couples there, swaying to a song you can't quite make out the words to.

You wrap your arms around Joel, threading your fingers and resting them at the nape of his neck. He’s looking down at you, the palm of his left hand running down from your rib to your hip, where it stays. He places his right hand on your other hip and pulls you closer, still never breaking eye contact. The two of you stay like that for a while, hips rocking slowly to the music blasting out of the cheap bar speakers. 

It’s maybe two songs in before Joel’s hands start getting impatient, grazing the small of your back and palming at your ass. Normally, you’d be embarrassed letting a stranger feel you up in public, but you know nobody’s looking, each and every person at the bar stuck in their own little world. You look up at Joel through your lashes, taking in his sharp, crooked nose and rugged features. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, the way he looks at you. Pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. He’s breathing heavily, you can feel his shoulders rising and falling beneath your forearms. It’s so intense, you’re sure that if he isn't inside you within the next minute you might explode.

You let out a soft whimper of his name, and he groans.

“Darlin’,” He says in a pained voice. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You smirk at that, placing your hands on his chest, tugging at the collar of his flannel. You stand on your toes and lean in so that your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you whisper a soft–

“Want you, Joel,” before turning away from him and walking towards the bar bathroom. You’re reaching for the door handle when you hear his heavy footsteps following close behind you, and you smirk to yourself. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

Joel’s behind you in an instant, pushing you into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. His mouth meets yours, and it's all teeth and tongue and whiskey and mint. His hands, so big and warm wrapped around your ribs, guide you backwards until your back hits the stiff wooden door.

He’s desperate, hungry. His tongue licks into you, greedily swallowing every moan and sigh you’re willing to give him.

Suddenly Joel is sinking to his knees, paying no mind to the dirty bathroom floor or to the way his bones crack loudly as he crouches. He looks up at you with wide eyes, hands running up your thighs, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, pulling it up slightly. Your cheeks flush crimson, knowing full well how wet you are for him. Joel knows it too, smirking as he sees the damp spot on your lacy white panties. His fingers graze your clothed folds softly, teasing you. He leans in to press a feather-light kiss on your inner thigh, and you let out a soft whimper. 

“Please, Joel,” You say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Need you so bad. Been wanting you all night,” you add, and that seems to do it. He groans and pulls your panties down to your ankles, licking a long stripe up your glistening cunt. The two of you moan in unison, Joel’s hand holding up your thigh to get a better angle. 

“Fuck darlin’,” He groans into you, words slurring. “Such a pretty pussy. You this wet jus’ f’r me?”

“Fu-yes, Joel, just for you,” You tell him honestly. 

He’s ruthless, tongue sliding from your pussy to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. Your head falls back against the door, the flickering lights above you blurring into stars as you feel your orgasm getting close.

“Joel, m’gon- oh,” you tell him. He keeps up his pace, eyes never leaving your face, the curve of your jaw, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“I know, angel,” He tells you. “Let go f’me, baby. You can do it.”

You’re a wreck. It's only been a couple of minutes, and you’re already close to coming undone on Joel’s tongue. His thick fingers prod at your pussy, slipping in easily. You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about how wet you are for him or how close you are to coming when he’s hitting all the right spots. He hasn't stopped looking at you, not since he approached you at the bar a few hours ago. His eyes are glossy, as if drunk on the taste of you. He’s so handsome.

You come like that, the only word on the tip of your tongue is Joel, Joel, Joel. You chant his name like a prayer as you come down from your high, his tongue still on you, working you through your orgasm. 

You stay like that for a minute, Joel still on his knees in front of you as you catch your breath. You pull him up by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, tasting the tangy taste of yourself lingering on his lips. You’re both smiling into the kiss, and you only break apart to whisper to him–

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

He lets out an animalistic groan, and you reach down to palm the bulge in his jeans. You let out a soft gasp as he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Not yet, baby,” He tells you. “Wanna do this properly. Take you home and fuck you in my bed, treat you real good.” You can’t help but moan at his sweet filthy words. 

Joel unlocks the bathroom door and leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back. He guides you to his car and opens the car door for you, acting like a real gentleman as if he didn’t just make you come all over his face in a public restroom. 

His hand is on your thigh before he even starts the engine, and you can feel yourself getting needy again. He says it’s a twenty minute drive to his house, but you get impatient halfway through. You’re at a red light when your hand wanders to find the outline of his cock, still half-hard beneath rough denim. His head snaps to look at you, eyes immediately going dark. You look at him with faux innocence as your fingers slowly unbutton and unzip his jeans. You cup the bulge over his maroon boxers, and he lets out a soft groan. 

“Let me make you feel good, Joel,” You say, your hand still massaging his cock as it grows harder beneath your palm.

“Baby–” The car behind you honks as the light turns green, and Joel steps on the gas pedal. “Fuck, okay angel. Make me feel good.” And you oblige, pulling the elastic of his boxers down, freeing his dick. You feel your mouth watering as you hold it in your hand, long and thick and so fucking hard. You run your hand up and down the shaft a few times, testing the waters. Joel moans, and you sink down to lick him, base to tip, tasting his salty precum on the tip of your tongue. Joel places his hand on the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he lets out soft noises from the back of his throat. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, savoring the warm heavy weight of him on your tongue.

Joel’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel, his grip tightening around it as your head bobs up and down on his length. He’s grumbling and groaning, incoherent words leaving his lips as he drives over the speed limit, needing to be inside of you, desperate to fuck you into the sheets of his bed. 

The two of you spend a few more minutes like that, your tongue swirling around the head of his dick, him muttering about your perfect fuckin’ throat, so tight for him, tugging tightly at the roots of your hair. Then he’s pulling into a driveway, shifting gears and parking as you slowly release his cock from between your plush lips. You look up at him with wide doe eyes, your thumb wiping your spit from the corner of your mouth, never breaking eye contact. Joel lets out a guttural grunt before getting out of the truck. He walks around to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his as you walk towards the door of his house. 

Joel pushes you against the door and kisses you. It’s gentle, a sharp contrast to the feeling of his fingers tugging at your hair mere moments ago. He reaches around you, unlocking the door and leading you inside. 

It’s warm inside the house. Joel walks into the kitchen, and you hear the opening and closing of cupboards and the sound of glass on marble. He walks out a minute later, holding a glass of water in each hand. You accept it gratefully.

You take a small sip and place the cup on the table near you. Joel’s eyes never leave yours as he shakes his head and swallows his own water. 

���Drink up, baby,” He tells you, handing you your cup once again. “Gotta stay hydrated, yeah?” You roll your eyes playfully but oblige, downing the rest of the water, feeling it wetting your throat. You only set it down again once the glass is completely empty, before taking a small step forward and wrapping your arms around Joel, kissing him deeply. His hand comes up to cradle the side of your head, thumb resting on your cheek as he deepens the kiss, pulling your chest to his so you’re standing impossibly close to each other, heart to heart. You moan into his mouth and he swallows the sweet sound. 

“Joel,” You mumble. “Need you to fuck me. Now,” He hums at your words, lips moving from your lips to place messy kisses down your throat. 

“Fuck, I will angel,” He tells you. “G’na fuck you in my bed, fuck you till y’r so full of me. Gonna ruin that little husband of yours for ya’. Be the only one to make you feel this good.” You throw your head back and moan, and Joel takes the opportunity to kiss and bite every pulse point and every vein. 

You let out a sound between a gasp and a squeal as you feel your feet being lifted from the ground, Joel’s hands cupping your ass as he carries you to his room and sets you in the middle of the bed. The soft chuckle you let out quickly turns into a moan as he pulls the collar of your dress down, mouth latching on to your bare nipples, licking and sucking at the skin. Your hands find his hair and you tug lightly at the roots, needing more, more, more. The sounds he lets out vibrate against your skin, sending tingles up the length of your spine. Joel’s mouth goes lower, kissing down the valley of your breasts and at the soft skin of your tummy, hands pulling your panties down for the second time tonight. He pulls back to luck at your cunt, glistening under the yellow lights of his room, and he lets out a pained grunt.

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” He says, fingertips tracing your outer thighs gently. You blush, suddenly embarrassed to be so bare for him. He stands up, peeling off his shirt to reveal his broad chest. He moves to unbutton his pants, but you sit up on the edge of the bed to stop him.

“Wanna do it,” The words slur out of your mouth, and you can feel Joel’s breathing getting heavier. His hand moves to your face, thumb caressing your cheek as your fingers work the button through the hole and pull the zipper down. The denim pools around his thighs, and he steps out of it, kicking it back to a distant corner of the room. He’s left only in his boxers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter at the sight of the outline of his dick against the fabric. You pull his boxers down, and this time really look. You’ve already felt him in your hand and your mouth, but in the darkness of the car you weren't able to really see him. He’s huge, thick with a slight curve to the left and neatly trimmed. God, this man. You feel more slick pooling between your thighs as you stroke him slowly. Joel groans and leans down to kiss you, pushing you backwards to lay on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He’s on his knees above you, one hand holding his cock while the other spreads your thighs open. His fingers move to your cunt, drawing small circles on your clit while you writhe beneath him at the feeling. He stops suddenly, bringing his hand to his lips to taste you. His eyes are on you as he licks the sweet taste of you off his thick fingers. You moan at the sight, and he hums at the flavor. 

“Want you inside me Joel, please,” You tell him, brain too foggy to filter any words. Joel smirks slightly, and you admire the soft rise of the corner of his mouth, the almost invisible crinkle in his nose. Joel moves to slide the head of his cock up and down your pussy, the two of you moaning in unison at the sudden stimulation. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” He says. “‘S this all for me, baby?” You nod your head furiously at the question, and Joel chuckles. “Or are you thinkin’ ‘bout that husband of yours? Wish he was fucking you instead ‘f me?” You shake your head from side to side, needing to feel him inside you. But Joel doesn't let up. “Say it,” He says. “Who makes you feel this good, angel?” You could cry out of frustration.

“You, Joel,” You nearly scream. “Only you. No one else. M’yours,” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips.

He mutters a soft Damn right before pushing into you. Your head falls deeper into the pillow at the painfully sweet stretch, your velvety walls adjusting to his length as he bottoms out. Your ears buzz, drowning out your obscene moans. Your brain is mush, the only coherent thought being Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s moving now, deep thrusts in and out of you, mumbling about your perfect cunt and how you feel so good around him, such a pretty girl, God you’re so fucking tight . He leans down, taking your lips in his and kissing you hungrily. Moans fall from your tongue onto his, mixing into a pretty melody, a song only the two of you know how to sing. 

“Gonna come,” You tell him. Joel’s pace becomes sloppier but his thrusts never cease, hitting spots inside you that make you see stars behind closed eyes. His lips are on your neck again, leaving marks as if they’re promises that you’re his. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass, needing him impossibly deeper. 

“Wanna come with you, Joel,” You whimper, and he groans, his forehead falling against yours. He’s close, his thrusts becoming quicker and more shallow, and he’s so close to you, his hot skin against yours, you wish you could stay this way forever. 

“Fuck, baby,” He says, voice broken. “Where d’ya want me?”

“Inside,” You reply breathlessly. “Want you to come inside me.” A strangled grunt leaves his throat at your filthy words.

“Shit, Okay, angel. Come for me, wanna feel you,” You oblige, letting yourself fall into bliss, liquid gold and white heat flashing behind your eyelids as you come undone on his cock. Joel lets out a few more animalistic sounds before spilling inside your cunt, and you savor the feeling of his warmth somewhere deep inside of you.

You relish in your post-orgasm haze, body going limp as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You feel Joel slowly pulling out of you, and you groan in protest.

“Gotta clean you up, baby,” He says, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, but you wrap your arms around him before he can move any further.

“Jus– just wanna stay like this for a little,” You tell him. “Please,” You add, and he gives in, his strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer to him as the two of you doze off into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

__ __ __

Golden sunlight pools from the window as you wake up in your husband’s arms. He’s still sleeping, glowing under the late morning sun. You kiss his lips softly, and he stirs a little, eyes fluttering open and squinting at the harsh light.

“Morning, handsome,” You say with a kiss to his cheek. Joel groans and buries his head into the crook of your neck, pulling your body closer to his. You giggle, fingers brushing through his graying hair.

“Last night was fun,” You say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and he hums in agreement. “The roleplaying was a good idea, we should do it more often.” You add. “Though you really didn't have to sit on that nasty bathroom floor.” Joel pulls his head away from your warm body, looking you dead in the eye. 

“Darlin’, I woulda’ licked that goddamn floor for you.” You laugh, and he kisses your neck briefly. “M’serious. You better know that,” He tells you. You’re smiling widely, rays of sun bouncing off of your skin as Joel wonders to himself how he got so goddamn lucky. 

He briefly brought up roleplay a while ago after you ranted to him about your long day at work while he gave you a foot rub on the couch. He wasn't sure if you’d take him up on the offer, but you agreed that pretending to be someone else for a while could be a nice little escape from reality.

That’s how you found yourself at a local bar, ordering drinks while your husband sits in front of you as you pretend not to know him. All the while, Joel wondering how on earth he got fortunate enough to find you, let alone be the lucky man to marry you. And you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress. He’s sure every other man in the bar noticed the way it hugged your curves. But he was the one who got to have you. He was the one who drove you to your shared house and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. He was yours, yours to do whatever you pleased with.   

Joel’s train of thought is cut off as he hears the bedsheets rustle beneath you as you move to get out of bed. You’re sitting on the edge of the mattress, your back facing him as you put your hair up into a lazy ponytail. You turn your head back to look at him, eyes twinkling.

“I’m making coffee,” You say. “Y’want some?” 

“Coffee sounds great, angel, thank you,” He responds, and you smile as you get up.

“Okay, baby. Be right back,” You tell him, leaning down to kiss him one last time before making your way to the kitchen. Joel still tastes you on his lips as he watches the way your back sways with every step, leaving the room as you hum the tune of the song that was playing at the bar last night.Yeah, he thinks to himself. Joel Miller is the luckiest motherfucker alive.

a\n: zoo wee mama this took me way too long to write!! i pray this doesn't flop, but either way i enjoyed writing it. thank you for reading this far!! criticism is much appreciated <3

picture 1: King Lear by Edwin Austin Abbey

picture 2: @/ Anime♡Star on Pinterest

picture 3: @/ VSPINK on Pinterest

[3027960]

ghost coming home to fat! reader

-

he doesn't even know what time it is, as he shoulders the door open quietly and toes his sneakers off in the entranceway to your apartment. it's some time early in the morning, because the birds are singing and you're asleep. he white knuckled the steering wheel the whole way home, desperate to fall in bed and just hold you. sometimes you try to stay up if you get the text that he's headed home, but he knows you like to shower in the mornings before work which means an earlier wake up call.

he sets his duffle next to the couch, observing the black throw blanket tossed haphazardly over the back of your green velvet couch. he thought it was hideous, but you'd found it on facebook marketplace for cheap and had puppydog-eyed him about it being your dream piece of furniture. you obviously had tried to wait up, if the half drunk coffee leaving watermarks on the side table was any indication.

he slips off his balaclava, stuffing it in his jacket. he had changed back at the base - took a quick shower to get off the grime of a week long mission in south america, changed into an adidas track suit and trainers. if you could see him, you'd laugh and call him a 'chav'.

ghost padded down the hallway of the apartment, missing the creaky floorboards in front of the guest bathroom. the bedroom door was open, the twinkle of the fairy lights draped over the wall illuminating your soft form on the bed.

you slept on the left, he on the right.

you were neatly tucked into the comforter, the swell of your ass straining as you curled up under the covers. he couldn't even find it in him to be turned on at the sight, exhaustion seeping into his bones like mercury.

he slipped his pants and jacket off, tossing them over the back of your desk chair. you'd surely complain tomorrow, but for now he wanted to crawl in bed and disappear into your soft belly and wide hips. he wanted to slide his hand under your shift, pulling you into his chest.

so he did.

[theres-a-body-here]

Hi could you do Genji, Hanzo, Cassidy, lifewaver and Mauga (separately) where they have matching skins with thier s/o

It took some convincing to make these boys match with you, some more than others, but you were determined to be twinsies on the field.

I threw in two extras, as a treat

Cole Cassidy - Sherlock Holmes and Watson

Took little to no convincing to have him match with you, but he was dead set on being Sherlock

This isn't negotiable

Expect to hear everything but your name out there

"Dear boy", "Watson", and "My dear" is all you're gonna be referred as

Cassidy will refuse to respond to you unless you refer to him as "sir" or "boss"

You could take a bullet to the side and he'll be kneeling over you like: "Hmm, yes, that is indeed a nasty wound my boy"

"You're a moron.....Sir" you groan out as he drags you to Mercy

Eventually, you really play into the roll

wrapping your arms around Cassidy from behind as you press your cheek against his

"Do you have a plan, Boss?"

He coughs, being caught off guard

"Yes, my dear Watson...it's uhh....ya know, this" He says as he spins peacemaker in his hands

"World's greatest detective, everyone" You remark sarcastically

Genji Shimada - Kamen Rider

He's actually the one who first asked to match costumes

You both bickered over who to be

Genji insisted you dress as Evolto, but you also wanted to be Kamen

In the end, you both dressed as Kamen

Genji dressed as Kamen Rider Blade

You dressed as Kamen Rider Gaia

You both pose and exclaim with a loud "Henshin!" after every elimination

The others don't really get it

Genji kinda just shuffles over and hugs you, pressing his faceplate into your chest sadly after being called a "Power Ranger" for the 5th time.

You have to stifle your laughter as you comfort him

"It's not the same thing," he whines, voice muffled by your chest

"Yeah buddy, they're completely different franchises," you chuckle out, rubbing his back

Niran "Bua" Pruksamanee - Bee and Flower

Pretty excited to match costumes with you

Niran took a pretty long time to pick which flower to dress as

"Maybe I should stick with Lotus, but...Jasmines..." he mutters as he brings fabrics to his chest, imagining himself as each flower

you sat on his bed wearing a bumblebee suit, watching on as Niran struggled to make a decision

He settles on fuchsia, bright purples and trailing fabric

Costume is so extravagant that you look comically out of place in your cheap Bee outfit

Niran doesn't mind, in fact, he finds it cute

He especially loves your puns

"Bee mine," you coo as you kiss his cheek

He chuckles as he returns the kiss

Hanzo Shimada - Cupid and Eros

You're gonna have to bust out all your tricks to convince this man to wear something so, in his words, undignified

What ever you do to get him into the cupid costume, expect complaints

"This is....embarassing," he mutters begrudgingly as he sits on your bed, tugging at his pastel pink wings

The bathroom door opens as you step out in your Eros outfit

"How do I look, Babe?'

Hanzo's face immediately erupts into a blazing red

"Wh-What are you wearing?" he exclaims as he adverts his gaze, looking at anywhere but you

Your outfit is... minimal to say the least

Wings, red sash, sandals, bow, and a thin loincloth. That's literally it

Besides that? Nearly all of your skin was on display

"Aww, you don't like it?" you tease as you walk closer to Hanzo

You straddle his lap, feeling him stiffen under you

You cup his face while you rub his cheeks with your thumbs

"I'm just teasing you. I have a much more modest outfit ready

Hanzo lets out a sigh as he looks at you

You lean in closer, ghosting your lips over his ear

"This one is for tonight" you whisper

Hanzo swears you'll be the end of him one day

Maugaloa Malosi - Māui and Hine-nui-te-pō

You brought up the idea of matching costumes and he instantly had a mischievous look in his eyes

He agreed on the condition that he chooses the theme

He dressed as Māui and he helped make a costume for you

You recognized Māui from a movie, but you had no idea who Hine-nui-te-pō was

"Don't worry about it" he assured you with a chuckle

You two had a blast on the battlefield with your matching costumes

Although, you couldn't help but think something was up every time Mauga glanced at you

He'd smirk and throw you a wink

But this was Mauga, so it didn't really set off a red flag

Its not until the end of the battle where a talon grunt said something

"What he'd do to convince you to dress like that?"

You looked confused. The grunt explained she was from New Zealand.

She told you the story of Māui and Hine-nui-te-pō

Your face went from shock, embarrassment, to rage

You stomped your way to Mauga, who wore a shit-eating grin

You stood in front of him as your swung your hands to slap him

But you're too short

"God dammit! Lean over, asshole!" you cry as you jump at him Mauga breaks into a fit of laughter as he picks you up and swings you around

Jamison Fawkes - Yoshikage Kira and Killer Queen

Surprisingly, Junkrat was pretty hesitant to match costumes

He was worried changing clothes would include bathing

He likes his soot and burns thank you very much

"I have an aesthetic to maintain, mate"

But you knew how to break him

The moment the words "turns anything into a bomb" left your lips, he was instantly on board

Obviously he was gonna be the explosion cat

But since this was Junkrat, you had to approve his costume beforehand

You deadass had to explain to him why entering a bathtub of alcohol and pink sharpie markers to color his skin was a terrible idea

"But the damn cat's pink isn't it?" He asks, dumbfounded that you had a problem with his genius idea

"We'll use facepaint, babe"

You show off your costumes to the rest

Jamie wearing cat ears, Pink face paint, and leather gloves

You wearing a suit, dyed your hair blond, and severed mannequin hand in your pocket

After an ultimate that wiped out a good number of the enemy team, Junkrat clears his throat to speak

"Watashi no na wa "Kira yoshikage" nenrei 33-sai jitaku wa moriōchō hokutō-bu no bessō chitai ni ari ..."

The rest of you kinda stood around staring at him shocked

"I didn't know Mr. Fawkes knew japanese," Mei comments to you in a hushed voice, not wanting to interrupt Junkrat

You and Roadhog kinda look at each other

"He doesn't" you both say in unison

Reinhardt Wilhelm - Knight and Squire

A Knight and his squire? Count him in!

To be honest, you being his squire is somewhat of a fantasy he has, so Reinhardt was pretty excited to match costumes with you

You let him have a major say in your outfit since it was apparent this was big for him

He picked out colors of the old Crusade; Muted browns, greens and vibrant golds

Reinhardt wore his Balderich outfit

He fumbled to find a camera to capture the moment

Before you two left to meet up with the others for training drills, Reinhardt stopped you

"Y/N...can you...do something for me?" He asks nervously, voice almost a whisper

"Yeah sure, what's up big guy?"

"Can you bring me my hammer?" he finally responds after a while

You shrug and walk over to grab the massive weapon, bringing it over with a bit of strain

You had an idea of why he asked you to do this

You knelt on one knee and raised the hammer with both hands

"Your hammer, Sir Wilhelm"

Reinhardt's hands clench into a fists, the fabric of the gloves making a creaking sound from the pressure

He pushes the hammer aside and pulls you in for a bone crushing bear hug

"You've made this old dog happy, Y/N" he mutters as he nuzzles his face into your neck

"Yeah, sure, no problem" you strain out as you see spots on your vision

Reinhardt drops you immediately

"Sorry..." he mutters as he pats your shoulder