#commas end tags so sucks to suck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ncteez · 2 years

Text

Premium Boy-Toy (l.j)

the one where your best friend gifts you an entire man, and that man just so happens to be in high demand for everyone but you, until now at least.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

requested by anon: “I don’t like getting off on my own.” + “No one’s ever touched fucked me like this,”

wordcount― 10.3k

pairing― stripper!Jeno x afab reader

content― switch jeno, rich/lonely reader, jeno gets kinda in a weird headspace after he cums lmao

note― congrats, you are witnessing the fact that i cannot defend that this is basically smut from start to finish. theres a lil bit of sugar baby jeno at the end tho so...um, also there's probably so many typos and way too many commas in this but to be fair i was in horny jail and just fucking going.

smut tags under cut:

smut tags: masturbation, jeno goes from having the power to releasing it to you completely, its very chaotic, stripping kind of, hand job, finger fucking, choking, sensitivity, edging but it’s his own fault, jeno talks a lot until he can’t anymore, titty sucking :D, protected sex

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift. A down payment of $600 told you enough about the man who offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who had no one to spend their money on. Your best friend had been taunting you with the idea for months. Since she heard of the infamous Jeno actually, even more so after she experienced him herself. She has mentioned how clean he is, how toned he is, how well he moves his body, how he teases just enough, and how he looks better in heels than she does herself.

You still can’t fully take that last part seriously. A male stripper in heels? Must cost extra for those who like that sort of thing, which is very clearly your best friend. Noted. Regardless, she had mentioned whispers from the elite women she associates with that sometimes he even gives an extra treat with his services, free of charge. What that treat is, neither of you know, but the implications are damning.

Even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, presented as if the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner, you’re not interested. For the entire duration of her praising this all-amazing stripper, it hasn’t interested you. There’s shit to do and life to worry about, constantly actually. So, naturally, when she appears at your doorstep with an envelope in hand and yet another expensive bottle of champagne, you were wondering if you forgot your birthday because it wouldn’t be the first time.

She hadn’t pushed past you to come inside, she didn’t say a word actually, which was suspicious but kind of appreciated. Upon opening the small gift, it appears that she, herself, had dropped that $600 down payment in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you are. The note states the date and time, which, curse her for knowing your schedule so well, and the demand that it’s your job to tip him and pretend to have some inkling of an interest.

So now, here you are. Waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for a man coming to swing his meat in your face. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there is a stripper out there that only does private parties, and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look?

Surely, this man is expecting more than just you, alone on your couch with a sound system beyond his wildest dreams, one that you’ve only ever utilized when you need to watch a youtube tutorial on how to clean your windows the way the cleaner does. Surely, he’s expecting more than a woman who isn’t interested at all in this.

To your dismay, Jeno appears to have already been told that you’re a nightmare to fluster or gain interest from. The first words he says to you when you open the door for him is, “She said you’d give me that look.” Still, even so, Jeno saunters in like he owns the place, and you can immediately tell he’s done this probably hundreds of times before. He appears comfortable in a place he’s never been, in a home probably much nicer than his own, finding his way to where his stage should be for the night.

“Big place. Looked smaller on the outside.” He says to your silence, looking around and placing his bag beside your couch.

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You admit, watching him curiously as he pulls wires from his bag.

“Must get lonely.” Jeno shrugs, eyeing how stiff you are as he unravels his chords. “And, I assume, this is why I am being paid to be here.”

“This wasn’t my idea. Just so you’re aware.” You cross your arms, unimpressed by the man already.

“I was told that I need to show you a good time, I already knew you were new to this kind of thing.” He smiles, continuing to set up. “Besides, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.”

Curiosity spikes again, only for a moment though. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual, even. Wasn’t he supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? Showing up and pressing play on a magical-appearing stereo that bumps the worst of music before gyrating at you? Instead, he’s here setting up and surprisingly, fully clothed in a tacky and ratty sweater with jeans that hug against his thighs. He doesn't appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off for lonely hearts. You kind of want to ask him questions, but also you don’t think you should be learning more about him considering that’s not why he’s in your living room right now.

“Do you have mood lighting or are we doing this in morgue lighting?” He casually asks after plugging his laptop into your sound system and placing it on one of the various shelves. It almost makes you laugh.

You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel to show him the various lighting options this room offers that you very rarely use.

“Perfect, that one.” He says from across the room, focusing his eyes from his laptop screen to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides, knowing which lighting accentuates his toned body the best. You turn the nob a bit for him, wondering just how good he must be at dancing for women with houses like this.

“A little more.” He smiles.

You dim the lighting just a smidge more, looking at him and the way he genuinely seems to be at ease.

“Right there.” He says in a gentler tone before focusing his eyes back on his laptop.

You watch him tap his fingers across the keyboard, gliding around the little touchpad, and then, as if he’s the one who owns this house, he takes a step back and walks to your couch.

“Come sit, I’ll go get myself ready.” He smiles over at you as he pats the cushions. “Which way is the bathroom?”

Without a care in the world, you point towards the bathroom and decide he doesn’t need help getting there. Most people would be petrified of a strange man in their home, wandering the halls with the ability to come upon any room with unprotected goods. If he’s a thief of any kind, you can replace pretty much everything you own anyway. You don’t care.

Once he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door close, you make your way to the couch and attempt to make yourself comfortable. Despite the countless naps you’ve had here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t bring yourself to find comfort sitting here right now. You’re curious about Jeno, yes, of course, you are. You’re curious about how much money he makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise, and many other countless things, but you’re not entirely curious about how he does it. Sure, he’s attractive. Hot as hell, actually, but that doesn’t mean you should have to pay for attention from a man.

It almost feels like an insult from your best friend. Does she genuinely think you couldn’t go out right now and bag a man? Is this fun for her? A hobby, maybe?

“You overthink too much,” she always says to you, and yeah, perhaps she’s right. Maybe, since it’s going to happen anyway, you should at least try to enjoy it.

Jeno stays in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, and each of those minutes was like a nightmare in your head. You were back and forth between not wanting to be in this situation, to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very attractive man is preparing himself for you to look at. He’s going to come out here and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy it. The very least you can do is tip him well and rub one out later after he’s gone and you’re on the verge of jumping out a window because you never make time to fuck.

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of the bathroom your brain adjusts itself into the right mind-state. You actually can’t look away from him even if you tried when he reveals himself. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks cheap, tacky, or even overly sexual. If anything, he looks expensive. Jeno genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs.

You can physically feel yourself react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found it sexy in any way, until now, at least. The suit looks much like what your team would wear in your company, shyly coming into your office and stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jeno isn’t stuttering in his suit though. He’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hadn’t even noticed you staring yet.

God, the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. The way the belt held his pants on his hips, begging to be unbuckled, the way the blazer widened his shoulders much better than his sweater from before. The smell that wafted off him was even prettier when paired with the image of him. He smelled like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions maybe. Assuming that scent is the reason his abs were fucking shining. Fucking body oil. He uses body oil.

When he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he had chosen to play accentuating each of his steps towards you, your cheeks start to heat up. He hasn’t rolled his body once and you’re already feeling like you could eat him alive, with the smirk on his face leading your eyes down to his neck, chest, abs, and that fucking belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his arms on either side of you, gripping the back of the couch.

Jeno can already tell that you’re going to be fun to play with. Such a harsh exterior from the beginning. To be fair, he was warned and prepared by your friend, which happens to be his newest client who tipped him more than anyone before.

You nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look when he’s presenting himself like this?

“Rule number one,” He smiles, swaying in front of you and keeping his grip on the couch, mostly so that way you feel trapped and, hopefully, mesmerized by him. “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you give me a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.”

That’s not a problem because, despite your internal protests, you had only pulled out the bigger bills anyway. You nod to him, watching the way his hips start to swirl, too afraid to look up at his face because you know he’s looking down at you, intensely, probably.

“Rule number two.” He leans down, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without asking.”

You almost wanted to reach out immediately to touch him. You wanted to feel how slick that body oil was on him. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later. Mostly, you wanted to feel how warm he must be.

This time he doesn’t wait for you to nod, because he can already see that familiar look on your face that he gets from most of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand.

“Rule number three.” He continues, pulling back and this time positioning his face in front of yours because this one is the most important. This one he needs you to look at his face rather than his body. “I won’t touch you unless ask me to.”

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t one he often states. Sometimes, very rarely, Jeno is in a mood when he goes out on a job. He always has condoms with him just in case, but never intends to use them until meeting said client. She’s paying to look at him, not to touch him. If she piques his interest, he offers a third rule. If a client never hears of the third rule, they know that even if they ask to touch him, he wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, the only reason he took so long in your bathroom is that his hand, for some reason, felt so good against his cock for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and hopefully, you take the bait.

When you swallow and look him dead in the eye, he thinks you know what it means. He feels lucky that his cock is acting up. Lucky that your friend brought him to your attention, lucky that you’re looking so pretty and already so flustered by just looking at him.

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head a bit and waiting for you to nod.

You nod slowly, glancing down at his body again. He can tell you want him to start moving now, really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, pulling back and bracing himself still against the back of your couch. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you like.

“It’s good,” You say, glancing away from his eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-sick puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy right now by this man.

He notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song being picked for you, but he doesn’t push it. He’s better at talking with his body anyway.

Jeno begins to focus now, opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. He backs himself away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a bit more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, so he hopes you’re of the same mind.

This entire playlist is one he picks for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they ask. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through his body in a way that makes him feel like he can move like he’s fucking you from across the room without so much as a touch.

He’s at his best when this sort of thing happens inside of him, the eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed at a reason other than payment, and he feels his most attractive like this too.

You’re sitting painfully stiff across from him on that couch, and he can’t help but keep a smirk plastered on his face for how lucky his other clients would think you are experiencing him like this for your first time of all things. He’s never attempted this with a new client, but god, look at you.

His hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. Jeno easily dances along to the music for you, not yet removing any amount of clothing. It’s the build-up for him, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Though, of course, if he leaves your house tonight with tips in his pockets and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too.

You watch him, seeing the way the dim lighting of the room accentuates each little dip and rise against his chest and abdomen. He’s well-defined, with an immaculate body for this line of work. You find yourself understanding why he’s so favored in the group of lonely women.

As the song begins to fade, Jeno appears to readjust himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It felt intimate, and not at all like the silence needed to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Usually, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. When the next song begins, he closes a bit of distance and skews his body so that you’re now watching him in profile.

In some way, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has at this moment when he’s dropping to his knees during a bass drop, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him, you’re still searching his face.

Only glancing down for a moment, he finds himself flicking his own eyes down, trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking, but when you gasp as his motions, skewing your mouth open slightly and gripping the hem of your dress, he realizes.

The fact that this is your first time doing this is one thing, but the way you are experiencing it appears to be new ground for him. Typically, he speaks with his body, and it appears that now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. So, he does what you’re supposed to be doing.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re not even watching him fuck the air in front of him. His eyes move from yours once again, this time to your body. He watches the way your fingers grip the fabric of the dress he would like to see somewhere on the floor later. He watches the way you slightly rub your legs together, almost too easy to miss. That alone was enough for him as his eyes bore holes into you, much like you should be doing to him.

Jeno’s dancing turns more intentional, when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his eyes on you, he tries to show you what he would do to you specifically. You glance at his hips and the way he rolls them up, not even to the beat of the song.

His blazer begins to slide off his shoulders by this point, and he continues his movements, watching the way your eyes take in the sight of his skin becoming more and more visible, you’re fighting now to keep eye contact as you stare at the way his abs flex when he presses forward. It’s a shame you’re not seeing his cock grow beneath his pants, honestly.

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he finally pulls his eyes from you to try and regain his focus. He wants you so bad right now, and it’s bullshit because you’re supposed to be the one thinking like this for him. He can see that his movements are causing a reaction for you, but god, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him.

It’s time to turn it up a notch, the current song is soon to be replaced with another. His favorite song to dance to, his favorite song to fuck to. Because to be fair, by the time it hits the third song on this specific list, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back, he can fucking see it.

Ignoring the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next move-set, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eye. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to bring his confidence up enough to be seen in any way you’re looking at him.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch his shoulders move in the light, his eyes dark, and his hair starting to fall from its perfected position. You don’t mean to, but you rub your legs together in a more obvious way at seeing him in front of you, coming towards you in such a way.

Jeno looks smaller when he’s on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You wonder if your face reads the same for him, and nervousness begins to hit you again.

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” He says out of nowhere through the music, stopping in place and planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you for this next song, is that okay?”

Never mind the fact that Jeno has never asked to touch a client before. He’s never had to ask. He can’t help it though; it doesn’t hurt to try right? Because his cock is aching in his pants, and he isn’t quite ready to wait for an entire two more songs to get them off just for you to see that he’s very much wanting to fuck you right now.

On the other hand, you were so fucking fast to accept. Yes, yes, he can touch you. You want him to touch you. The entire idea that he’s just doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to see. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck.

Jeno smiles at you as the current song finally begins to fade out. The silence is back and this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod at him.

He’s slow when he places his hands on your knees, rubbing up, up, up, until he’s able to lift himself from his knees and hover over you. Did he intentionally push your dress up your thighs? Yes. He wanted to see you rub them together in full shameless view for him. He wanted to know what his body does to you. Jeno stands hovering over you for a moment, hands staying on your thighs as he stares down at them as you do just as expected. For a moment, he forgets he’s supposed to be dancing for you, hell, he’s already shirtless and covered in oil.

“I’m going to get on top of you, okay?” He explains, removing his hands from your thighs and now gripping the back of the couch again as he did before.

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You ask with a smile, suddenly and intensely into the man spreading his legs to prop himself up on your laugh.

He shakes his head with a laugh, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest.

“You can touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule, not wanting to wait any longer for you to ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling your pussy drip against the fabric of your panties.

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there.

“No,” He admits, beginning to focus on the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all of my clients.” He adds, swirling his hips as he hovers over you, and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward and back.

“You know,” He suddenly says, guiding your hands a bit lower. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm. You think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the fabric of his pants rubbing harshly against it.

Your pulse begins to ring in your ears as you avoid looking to where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and shooting your gaze up to his. He’s not looking at you though. Jeno has dropped his head, staring at where he’s got your hand, and his hips are dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough,”

You continue to watch him, and then you finally look at your hand. The sheer size of him rubbing against you is…it’s something entirely different than what you were expecting from this man. It feels forbidden; it feels wrong but goddamn. The man is masquerading his dancing so he can fuck himself against your hand right now.

“You’re doing so well, Jeno,” You finally say to him. The first compliment you’ve given him since he got here.

“Oh yeah?” He questions, lifting his head to meet your eyes again. “Unbuckle my pants then.”

Despite this being a part of his job, he’s feeling a little desperate for you to do something on your own now, even if he has to tell you to do it.

“Show me how well I’m doing for you,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, you don’t have to be shy, baby, I saw the way you were squeezing your thighs earlier.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his buckle and pulling it from his pants.

“Keep that with you,” He stresses, pressing his hips forward again as he continues his dance.

Placing the belt beside you, you honestly have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but you like it. You reach back to unbutton the pants, unzipping them just moments later. Then you still your hands, looking up at him with a curious face.

“Take it out, go on.” He says, “You know you can pull away if you don’t want to do anything, I’m not forcing anything. I’m asking.”

You don’t even nod or pull your eyes away from him, knowing that you’re about to touch his bare cock as he sits spread across your lap. A lewd scene, one that feels both more intimate than you’ve ever been with another person, and also nowhere near as intimate as you need it to be.

Jeno looks at you, so much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable for him as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel his cock spring free, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver on top of you. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs until he sees that look in your eye again. You’re waiting to be told what to do. For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone be seduced by one.

“Touch me,” He says gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence feeling you grasp him in your fist with little effort or fear behind your eyes.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, which is kind of nice. You’re hesitant but willing, and he wonders if he will get to actually touch more of you after this.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock when he focuses his hips. He dances like he normally would for any woman during this song, it just so happens that he blatantly pretends to fuck to this song, because usually, he is fucking to this song. So, his dance is nothing short of fucking your fist. Still, he tries to keep up the act. He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him not to turn the tables and position you so that your leg is on his shoulder and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, dripping panties.

A struggle especially when you tighten your grip on him. He can see your pupils blow out, and he can see the way you’d probably ask for him to touch you much like he did, so he slows his hips a bit, intentionally thrusting slowly into your fist and holding back his own moans of pleasure.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “I don’t like getting off on my own.” He adds, now allowing his hips to still just to see if you’d pull your hand back.

You don’t move your hand away, to his surprise, you are actually starting to move your fist on him.

“That’s good,” He groans, looking down at your hand. “It feels good,” He shakes a bit, shivering at the fact that you’re jerking him off now. “Can I stop pretending that I’m dancing for you now?”

You chuckle at him, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you quickly when you watched him chase his pleasure using your hand. He’s so hard and so incredibly thick, you’d be stupid if it didn’t turn you on. You’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging for you to look at him, watch him, touch him. You feel powerful, and you’re used to that. It feels like everything has fallen into place despite this situation being far outside of your comfort zone. You’re finding similarities. Men beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. So, what if Jeno didn’t beg for your money, he’s begging for your hands on him practically, and apologizing for asking you to do it.

“No,” You say, and you can see the shock on his face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

Jeno’s eyes kind of fall now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time, but you move your hand a bit faster, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told because you’re the one with the money.

He does his best, and honestly, his best far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market in his opinion. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way.

“You’re not going to ask me to touch you more?” He asks meekly, almost as if he’s hiding his face from you now.

You smile in response, pupils blown enough so that you can swallow each movement his body makes as he reluctantly moves to the beat. Honestly, your ears are ringing, and you don’t think you’ve heard a single lyric from the music playing since he placed your hands on him, but you think that should be a given.

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start to speak, now loosening your grip on him just to see him frantically chase the warmth of the little circle your hand makes for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks slightly out of breath. “You thought, I let her get me off like this?”

It almost pisses him off that you’d say such a thing to him, but then again, he didn’t exactly tell you that this situation is reserved for very few people.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who couldn’t even look at me properly less than thirty minutes ago.”

You skew an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles back onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect and twitching at the sudden lack of friction.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a man who needs to cum.”

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing as he leans over you.

“Are you suggesting that you’ll make me cum if I stop talking?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness that has formed between them as he was on top of you.

“You know,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “She told me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you, I wasn’t expecting that they were the ones getting you off.”

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your pussy in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please.

“Go on, dance.” You say, “You’re still wearing your pants.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along.

He raises a brow at you as he steps back, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jeno does as he’s told, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress when you do it, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with your chest as you do it.

He stays behind you now, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows the hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers clash with whatever you’re radiating back at him.

He continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again because that’s the one spot you already let him touch.

“Spread your legs for me.” He gently demands between lyrics.

Jeno watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs fall open. Your dress is hiked up past your waist now, enough that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy.

“Ask me to touch you.” He says against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “I just need to know that you want it.”

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this.

“I’m not asking for it.” You finally say, breathing in deep by the way his hands keep rubbing higher and higher, to the point that it’s genuinely difficult to not ask for it. “I want to be the one granting permission, Jeno.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you.

“Oh.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that isn’t your panty line or pussy.

“Can I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?”

You could mistake this distance as something that should be closed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him.

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He breathes in, giving you the same smirk that appears on his face each time you entertain him a bit too much.

“Will you take my fingers?” He asks again, this time already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping baby; I can imagine they’d slide right in.”

Typically, you wouldn’t like being called that, but he’s done it twice now and each time it had your stomach in knots over it. His voice sounds like honey when he says it to you, and his darkened eyes only made it feel like there was some sort of desperation behind it. Finally, you press your hips up against his fingers.

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He continues, tracing his fingers up and down just to feel the sticky mess that’s there for him and him alone. “Moving your hips isn’t an answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it.

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him.

You can hear him release a breathy laugh and lay his head back beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he solely intends to listen to you now more than the music. He continuously presses his cock against the couch, holding his hips in place as he tenses his muscles throughout the time he’s spent in this position.

Your hips lightly chase his fingers. They go up when his fingers trace down, and he can’t help but smile at the way he’s getting exactly what he wants despite your sudden change of personality towards him. He likes this version of you better, if he’s being honest.

Jeno finally reaches around you and pulls at your panties, harshly tugging them down your legs as far as his arms can reach. He watches as you push them further down, kicking them onto the floor and relaxing back against the couch.

“Eager?” He tries to tease, but he knows you won't respond, and you dont. He just continues, now allowing himself to feel your bare pussy for the first time. Sure, he can’t see it in full right now, but sometimes just feeling was enough for him.

“You’re so wet right now—” He groans, pressing his cock against the back of the couch again, chasing any amount of friction he can have. His fingers slip into places he hadn’t even attempted to touch yet solely because of how wet you are. “You held out for so long.” He coos, teasing around your hole and chuckling at the way your breathing has grown a bit labored by this alone.

When you grab his hand though, practically forcing him to drive his fingers into you, he’s taken by surprise. The warmth envelops his digits in a way that is audible and excruciatingly sexy to him. He doesn’t even attempt to hold back now.

“They really did slip right in–” He rasps against your neck, scissoring his fingers into you and feeling how you clench around them. His mind is racing. “I bet you could take my cock so well.”

He’s talking to himself more than you right now, smelling your hair and becoming obsessed with the way you feel, look, and smell when you’re within inches of him like this. Better yet, he knows you won’t respond to a single thing he says but it doesn’t matter too much considering you’re starting to let out little whimpers.

“What was that?” He asks, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Let me hear you, baby, make that sound again.” He adds as he pushes your chin back, resting his hand flush across your neck and practically holding you down that way as he begins to plunge his fingers into you.

“You can do it right?” He’s still talking, still humping your couch, still fucking you so good with his fingers. “Come on, do it again.”

It’s like he’s working for it, and god, he’s doing so well. You can’t help it when you let out a choked moan, his hand straining your neck enough that any sound would come out strained and desperate. You can feel his grasp tighten against your neck as his fingers fuck faster, harder. His palm is placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed harshly. It’s incredibly overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck–again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder so that he can look down at you again. He’s heard you, now he wants to see how desperate you are.

When you open your eyes again, all you can see is his face, all you can feel are his long fingers pressing in spots that haven’t been played with in a long time. You smell only his sweet, musky body oil, and jesus christ it’s hitting you in every spot that feels good. You can feel the cold metal of the rings on his fingers against your neck, and when he tightens his hand even more than before, another choked-out moan falls from your lips.

You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment of pleasure, watching the way his teeth appear and scrape at his bottom lip when you make noises for him. So, you do it again, and again, and again.

He fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palm rubbing harshly at your clit, and his other hand around your throat– honestly you could fucking sing songs to him in this moment.

“You’re shaking,” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile is so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand as hard as he thinks you can handle can after the fact. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you don’t want this, the way you’re moaning for him is all he needs to know that you’re into this, that you like being choked and fucked.

When you moan out yet again, he releases his hand from your throat and leans down to your lips. He’s only a bit shocked that you don’t even hesitate to kiss him. What he wanted to do was degrade you, but now he’s just tasting the way you’re desperately trying to kiss him and if he’s wanting to be real right now, that was way better than his own idea.

He doesn’t kiss his clients, but at this point, things have already lasted much longer and have gotten far more intimate than they ever have with those few lucky women. He’s never asked for it, he’s never gotten so much pleasure out of finger fucking them, and he’s not once ever fucked against a couch to chase his high.

Pupils blown, he allows himself to kiss you, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. You kiss him better than he’s ever been kissed before and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. His hand moves on its own accord, cupping your jaw as he attempts to deepen the kiss past his comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it.

“You can take it, right?” He pulls back in a breath, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him. “My cock, please.”

Your eyes widen, somehow managing to forget that he’s been totally neglected through all of his. Are you really about to fuck this stripper? The man you were against meeting? The man who has $600 dollars in his bank account from your lovely, beautiful, amazing best friend? The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs it up and moves on as if it never happened? The answer is yes.

“I can.” You look up at him, intentionally fucking yourself on his fingers now because it appears he’s stopped functioning altogether.

Within a second, his fingers are out of you and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still out of his pants that are also still at his thighs. He goes directly to his bag, and as if he knew it was going to happen, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

“Oh,” You let out in a huff, disappointed.

He raises his eyes to you as he lets his pants fall to his ankles and steps out of them but his face isn’t concerned nor bothered. Honestly, he has to be able to read minds or something.

“No, I don’t do this with all of my clients. I’m a man and I have needs. Needs that require protection sometimes.”

You only nod, in awe of the fact that he knows what the fuck to always say. And just as quickly as he left from you, he’s back, lifting your dress and attempting to take it off of you.

“Can I see?” He asks, still tugging as he stands in front of you.

Your pussy is aching, and you can feel the couch beneath you soaked through and probably leaving an embarrassingly large spot for you to cry about later because this fucking couch was expensive, but whatever. So is Jeno.

Lifting your arms, he slips the dress off of you and instantly presses your breasts together as he stares at them. He doesn’t hesitate this time to snatch your bra off of you either, the second your bare nipples are perked up in front of him he’s got his mouth on one and the other being pinched between his fingers.

“Right here?” He mumbles around your nipple as he savors the quick moment of seeing you in full for probably the first and only time. “You want me to fuck you here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question wasn’t clear in the first place.

You don’t even care at this point, but, you’ve been sitting in this position for far too long and, more than anything, you want him to be the one looking up at you again. Just like when he started his second dance, crawling on the floor towards you and looking so small for such a cocky man.

“No.” you say, lacing your fingers into his hair and pushing his lips to your other nipple, just to feel the warmth of his tongue flicking against it.

“No?” He questions, sucking your nipple harshly and allowing it to pop from his lips as he looks at you. “Where, then?”

You smile at him, finally sitting yourself up fully from the slouched, lazy position you were in. Your legs close as you stand to your feet in front of him, but he still dips his head to get his lips around your nipple again.

Holding him there, your legs almost buckle at the way he slightly groans around it, sending vibrations through your chest and straight to your clit. You’re gentle when you shuffle forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze against your perked-up nub in a sad release do you realize that he’s… needier than you expected. His brows are furrowed, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him onto the couch so you can straddle him, and it’s cute, actually. He was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it. But now, looking at him, it felt good.

As quickly as his brows furrowed in disappointment that your tit was no longer in his mouth, his brows lift right back up in relief when you plant yourself on his lap and grind against his cock.

It’s the first slippery touch that he’s felt all night, and honestly, he’s been on edge this entire time. You grind against him so beautifully that for the first time, he’s completely speechless.

“You’re really cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist. “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at all and instead melts into it. His cheeks are a different shade now as he leans forward to resume his antics from before. All you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping against your clit, and you’ll never forgive yourself for not making more time for this.

When his teeth begin to graze a bit harsher, and his hands start to push and pull you faster against him, you finally do it.

Angling yourself perfectly, you slide forward, perk your ass out, and then pull him back by his hair to look at him. Already, the moment he opens his eyes and looks at you, he knows.

He thrusts his hips up one time and feels the way your pussy grips around his cock with perfect aim. He slides in so fucking easily, so fast, that he’s almost seeing stars at how good it feels. He grunts heavily, feeling your grip on his hair tighten through your own overwhelming experience of being filled up.

Both of you let out a long and breathy groan at the sensation, you couldn’t help it, you had to grip onto something and it wasn't intentionally his hair but god, he seemed to love it when you dio it. When you finally regain your senses, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows hard.

“Move.” You say harshly, feeling the way his cock pulses in place inside of you, and at this point you want him to make good on what he thinks you can do. You can take his cock but can he handle your pussy? It’s looking bleak, but sometimes that’s more fun anyway.

He whimpers when he squints his eyes at you, unable to fully open them as he loses himself to the feelings of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you’re holding his head back. Jeno didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned, if he moves right now, he’s going to cum. So, he doesn't. Instead, he smirks and lets his eyes close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, but incredibly turned on by the way you’ve completely lost him, you start to bounce. Each time your ass hits against his thighs, he moans, and each time you grind forward, dragging your clit into his abdomen, he tenses up for you, and it’s like he’s so here but not at the same time.

“Look how pathetic you are right now,” You whisper out, hearing the wet of your pussy echo through the long-forgotten music that’s playing. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head at you with a lazy smile as if to insinuate ‘damn fucking right I can’t.’ He’s proud of it, but you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he’s going to break his fingers.

“Keep going baby,” He somehow manages to say to you without a moan at all in his voice. “No one has ever fucked me like this,”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, at least that’s what you thought. His voice still sounds like honey and his cock feels impressively hard inside of you that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. He wants you to fuck him.

“Yeah?” You boast, feeling the power go to your head as you opt for grinding rather than bouncing. Your hips are erratic as he tenses up for you. You can feel your clit hitting perfectly each time and if you were to keep going, you could cum within seconds.

You can’t even finish your thought when you look down at him. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open in a silent moan, you can see that he’s not able to take in a breath at all. You release his hair, watching the way he allows his head to fall against the cushions in what you can only assume is a pure euphoric high.

“Are you cumming right now?” You ask, out of breath.

When he doesn’t respond and you feel his hips stutter under you despite remaining static since he’s gotten inside of you, you know that now is the time.

You grind harshly, pressing your clit against him and rutting against his abdomen so that his cock is only slightly fucking into you while you chase your own high, but, alas, his fingers tighten on you.

His eyes shoot open as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t stop. The pain is intense from how hard you’re going on top of him, but he can see you reach your high and the image alone lets him push through the sensitivity of his post-orgasm discomfort.

Jeno seethes out praise to you as your walls squeeze against his softening cock. He studies your face, studies the way you try to close your legs around him despite being forced to stay open, and he thinks he might be a little too fond of the way your hands grip and squeeze his arms for leverage as you shake through the orgasm.

It hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. After all, it kind of feels like he’s been in this room for days. Surely, he’s stayed past his allotted time frame, and surely he’s given you something far more valuable than an expensive lap dance.

When you slump over him, his cock is so fucking sensitive that he almost starts to tear up, but thankfully you were sensitive too it seems. You were gentle when you held the base of his cock, holding the condom in place as you allow him to slip out of you.

The playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jeno to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame, and now all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven to move and go home.

“You okay?” You ask, noting the silence and his struggle to breathe with you on top of him. He’s staring straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, face making no readable expression. “Hey, Jeno?” You ask again, tapping his cheek.

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving over to look at you.

“That, um…” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does.

The change in the atmosphere almost freaks out you, but you try to stay calm. You saw the way he lost himself there, despite it not at all being rough or incredibly kinky. You’re confused as to why he’s acting like this, and maybe you even feel a bit guilty.

Without another word, you lift yourself onto your weak legs and stumble to find your dress. You throw it on so quickly, and it’s the only time you’ve ever felt the need to cover yourself so fast. Still silent, you head to your purse and grab every single hint of cash you have. Some two thousand or so.

Just like that, you place the cash into Jeno’s hands as he comes back to himself.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the sheer amount of cash in his hand. It was kind of the last thing on his mind.

“Your tip.” You try to say casually, still doing your best to catch your breath. “You can shower too if you want.”

Jeno nods, hoping to god that you don’t think he fucked you for money just now. No, he showed up for the money. Whatever happened after was because he wanted it, and he still does. Are you truly strictly business like this? You just handed him his rent for the month and then some, but for some reason it amazes him. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women.

“Shower with me?” He asks suddenly, trying to lighten to mood from whatever the fuck just crept in through the silence.

He feels comforted when you smile, nodding to him with a step forward.

Did Jeno end up spending the night free of charge? Yes. Did he try to have a serious talk with you in the early hours of the morning, about how this is not genuinely something he does? Absolutely.

Did you believe him? Surprisingly.

After the shower, the mood shifted into something that felt natural. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over for a down payment of $600, he was Jeno, a man trying to make ends meet in a city too expensive for even you.

Wanted he was, by several women of course. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely heart with him. Not to fall in love, nothing like that. If anything, you want to take care of him, and when he grimaced at your joke, calling him your “sugar baby”, he was quick to perk up when he realized you were being serious.

It was your turn to set the rules and, possibly, break them.

“Rule number one, come to me if you’re short on money. No, you don’t have to fuck me for it, but I’m sure you’d probably want to.”

He nodded happily.

“Rule number two, stop fucking your clients. If you need to fuck, come over. Just look pretty for them and come back to me, yeah?”

The way he nodded harder that time was a pleasant surprise.

“Rule number three.”

He gasps in a show of mock shock. “The forbidden rule–” He whispers, sinking further into your blankets with a laugh.

“If–” You pause, thinking hard about if you should even assume. You forego anyway, it’s a forbidden rule for a reason. “If either of us start to like, feel things, we have to actually communicate and see where we want to go from there.”

He nods again, a glint in his eye shining brighter than he realizes. This is the first time he’s slept at a client’s house, the first time a woman has ever gotten him so fucked up. You had him down bad. He thinks he should probably stop calling you a client as well. The short-lived title turning into something he always dreamed of, though he figured it wouldn’t have happened so quickly. Sugar Mommy.

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct-writers #neohub #lee jeno smut #jeno fic #nct fic #lee jeno fic #nct dream fic

2K notes · View notes

late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Text

Shut up and drive

AN: My darling @krissy25 asked for reader watching Bucky give Steve road-head, so I thought I would continue with our trio from ‘In the middle of the night’.

Un-beta'd so probably commas all over the shop. Dividers by @firefly-graphics, moodboard and banner by me

Main Master list | Challenge Master list

Summary: The morning after the night before, and you and the supersoldiers have hit the road. A silly conversation between you and Bucky leads to him demonstrating one of the ways he keeps Steve frustration-free while on the move.

Relationship: Stucky x Agent Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: Cheeky Bucky, Needy Steve, Slight Dom Steve, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Implied P in V Sex, Implied future blow jobs

You relaxed against the cushions of the back seat of the car as it sped down the near empty road. Despite the fact that you’d taken part in a lot of ‘acrobatics’ last night, you were surprisingly refreshed and ache free. You sighed in contentment and heard the creak of the leather passenger seat as Bucky turned to look at you.

“You enjoying yourself back there, doll? You look like the cat that got the cream.”

You snorted at his unintentional double-entendre.

“Bucky!”

“Well you did get a lot of it.”

You couldn’t stop your giggle, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

“Sorry, Bucky. Did I steal your share?” Your voice was laced with faux-concern.

“I’m sure I’ll live.” You enjoyed your banter with Bucky, even before the shift in your relationship.

Steve tutted from the driver’s seat. “Do you two have to be so immature?” You knew it was a front, you could see the corners of his mouth twitching. You leaned forward and ruffled his hair.

“Aaaawww, is Stevie feeling a little frustrated this morning?”

“He shouldn’t be! Punk got more than enough last night. But then again…..” he brought his hand up to his mouth as though he was about to spill a big secret, but then stage-whispered to you. “His record is 12 times in one night. He slept for almost two days afterwards, though.”

“Buck! We don’t want to scare her.”

“Don’t worry, Cap. You haven’t. I get tired, I just tag in my partner, right Bucky?”

The brunet gave you a mischievous smile.

“What if we’re both working you, doll?”

Tilting your head to the side, you pressed your index finger up to your lips in thought.

“Then I guess I’d just expire in the best way possible. ‘Fucked to death by supersoldier lovers.’ That’s what the headline would say. I’d be the envy of folk the world over.”

You all started laughing then, and you couldn’t remember when you’d last felt so carefree. You knew reality would kick in at some point, but for now it was just the three of you and the open road. And it gave you time to indulge in your latest hobby; teasing Steve. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so much fun, but it probably had something to do with the way he blushed so prettily and shifted in embarrassment, until he finally snapped and became all assertive.

“So, Bucky… tell me. How often have you had to…umm… ‘help’ Stevie out in unusual places. I’m guessing it happens a lot if he’s constantly horny?”

“I’m right here, you know!”

“Ssh, Steve. Doll-face asked me a question. You concentrate on driving and not crashing.”

Steve let out a harrumph, but you knew he wasn’t really put out.

“So… let me think. To be honest it’s happened a few times. In the quinjet… in Tony’s lab… hell, in a half collapsed building at the end of a battle…”

You chuckled as you watched the blush creep further and further up the back of Steve’s neck at Bucky’s words.

“Even given him road-head on more than one occasion.”

You looked at Bucky, askance.

“Road-head?”

Bucky had his trade-mark shit-eating grin on his face.

“Yeah, punk here loves the thrill of getting his cock sucked while driving.”

“Bucky…” There was tension in Steve’s voice, like he was trying to hold himself back from either punching his boyfriend, kissing him or both. Bucky shifted his attention from you to Steve and, if it was at all possible, his grin got even wider.

“Well, would you look at that? Lil’ Stevie appears to be wanting to put on a demonstration right here and now.”

You peaked over Steve’s shoulder, to gaze upon the impressive bulge inside his pants.

“Wow, it doesn’t take a lot to get you going, does it? You gonna let Bucky give me a demonstration?”

You scratched your nails into the short hairs at the base of his skull causing his eyelids to flutter momentarily and a salacious moan to leave his mouth.

“Please…” The word tumbled from his lips, full of desire, and he shifted in his seat.

Another chuckle emanated from Bucky as he leant across and started to work the fastening on Steve’s pants.

“What you’re gonna see here doll, is Stevie starting off all sweet and needy, but I guarantee by the time he cums he will have gone feral.”

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, making the leather cover creak, as Bucky pulled out his erect cock and licked his own lips in anticipation.

“Enjoy the show, doll.” Bucky winked at you, before leaning forward into Steve’s lap. You shuffled in your seat to get a better view, and what a view it was.

Last night the two supersoldiers had been more focused on you than each other. Yes, they’d kissed and touched each other during your threeway romp, but this was much more intimate. Bucky’s right hand was gripped around the base of Steve’s cock, gently jerking it. His plump, pink lips were suckling around the tip, his tongue swirling around to coat it in saliva. Steve’s breath had picked up, and he was staring ahead out the windshield of the car, as if by not looking at what Bucky was doing to him he could maintain some semblance of control.

However, when Bucky inched down Steve’s length, engulfing him fully, the blond couldn’t help but react. He dropped one hand from the steering wheel to tangle in his boyfriend's hair, and let out a sigh.

“Bucky…BuckyBuckyBucky. Love your mouth, sweetheart. God! Feel so good. You’re so good…”

For a moment you felt as though you were intruding, but then Steve let go of Bucky’s hair to reach back, take hold of your hand, and place it where his had been. You heard Bucky moan as your slimmer fingers twisted in his locks and a wave of heat washed over you.

“Feel what he’s doing, doll. He might go on and on about how needy I am, how, it’s me who’s constantly wanting him, but what he doesn’t say is how much he loves doing this. He’s a slut for my cock, always wanting to feel it. Always desperate to please me and make me cum. Fuck! Just like that, honey.”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, watching how Bucky bobbed up and down Steve’s full length without any issue, an amazing feat considering how much he was working with. And it was clear that Bucky loved doing this; his own free hand was rubbing against his own pants, massaging his cock through the fabric, and he kept letting out little moans and whines.

It had almost slipped your mind that Steve was somehow still driving through all of this, but then he suddenly pulled off the road, onto the dirt and gravel at the side. His large hand came down over yours on Bucky’s head and he started to thrust his own hips up.

“Gonna cum, Buck. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. And you’re gonna take it all for me, ain’tcha?”

The ache between your legs had intensified, and you were sure even your pants were going to be sodden, having a front row seat to this pornographic show. Bucky let out a garbled noise, and Steve came with a shout, his hips locked in an upward position, his head leaning back on the head rest. Your gaze flicked back and forth between his face, with its expression of ecstasy, and his lap, where you could see Bucky, eyes closed, swallowing down all the cum being pumped into his throat, with a look of pure bliss.

For a moment, the loudest sound was that of Steve’s breathing, combined with the car engine idling. You were running your fingers through both of the guys’ hair, gently petting them as they recovered. When Bucky finally let Steve’s cock go, he came back up with a grin on his face. Turning in his seat he gripped your chin with his right hand, drawing you to him for a brief, filthy kiss, before turning to kiss his boyfriend, which you really couldn’t complain about. But you were now horribly aroused, and rubbed your thighs together to relieve some pressure.

“Looks like you and Buck are both in a situation now, eh sweetheart?”

Steve’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you, and you felt heat spreading up into your cheeks under his gaze.

“And I know just what to do about it, punk.”

You were momentarily confused until Bucky moved. He opened his door, hopped out and then opened the rear door next to, slid in and slammed it closed.

If you’d been slightly disappointed by the briefness of your previous kiss, there was nothing to worry about for this next one. It was though Bucky was trying to consume you. You were both panting when he broke the kiss, and you surprised yourself with the little mewl of want that passed your kiss swollen lips.

“What are you planning, jerk?” Steve had twisted in his seat, looking at the pair of you with a raised brow.

Bucky pulled you to straddle his lap and spoke over your shoulder.

“Shut up and drive, pal. I’m gonna sort out our girl, and then when we swap drivers at the next rest stop you can taste her on me when you return the road-head favour.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958

#stucky #stucky x you #stucky x reader #jen's 1k follower celebration #jen's 1k challenge #krissy ❤️

205 notes · View notes

slashisms · 1 year

Text

Slashers First Time Seeing S/O’s Nipple Piercings

Minors DNI.

Michael Myers: Congratulations, you have his undivided attention, which is bad news. You should have locked your bedroom door. He would have barged in anyway and you would’ve had to buy another lock, but you could’ve delayed the discovery of his new favorite toy. You wouldn’t escape him for hours that night. Make your bras scarce or they’re going missing. He’s 100% Free the Nipple, enlightened by the sight of iridescent barbells running through your buds. Hope you like having your boobs pinched and twisted by his rough, massive hands. You complain that they’re sensitive, but he enjoys the noise you make because of it. It’s also his new favorite place to cum, don’t bother trying to stop him. Just stop protesting, it turns him on. He starts to steal jewelry from high end stores because you’re obviously concerned about metal quality of jewelry coming from Michael, who is frequently a dirty, bloody mess. You look up the engraving on a pair and the comma in the price tag seems like compensation enough.

Jason Vorhees: Absolutely scandalized. He didn’t even know people could put jewelry there! Practically faints when you describe the process. You let them stab you with a needle twice? Why?! The only one you’ll have to encourage to look at you. He’s suspiciously scarce whenever you’re undressing, so you may have ambushed him. You push your chest into his view and say, “Because they’re pretty!” He glances down at the gold jewel encrusted hearts encasing your nipples and helplessly agrees. He will not touch them, much too afraid to hurt you. Secretly loves when you play with them, especially while riding him. Confront him on his not-so covert glances (It’s adorable how he can’t manage to peek even with a mask.) and he’ll go missing, sometimes for days and come back covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair: He’s speechless, but not for long. It’s a sweltering day and you refused to be anywhere near a bra or put on more than a flimsy tank top. The sight of you bouncing down the steps, breasts swaying and encircled in two hoops had him trailing off mid greeting, eyes darting to your chest and face like he couldn’t believe his eyes. He never would have expected that type of piercing on someone like you, so sweet and shy. Because he’s a bastard, it doesn’t take long for him to start in on the sex shaming. You roll your eyes and make an offhand comment that if he ever wanted to see you with your top off, he better shut up. It’s almost funny, how quickly he not-quite apologizes. Unfortunately for many dead feminists, he seduces you into fucking on the table where you’re much more amenable to his filthy drawl when he’s got your legs on his shoulders, drilling into you mercilessly. If you cum when he calls you his “dirty fucking whore,” that’s no one’s business, but your own.

Brahms Heelshire: Let’s be honest, he saw them long before you knew he existed. He’s spying on you undressing before a shower, because he’s a pervert, but also British (Derogatory) so he’s repressed about it. Nice girls don’t pierce those places, he tries to tell himself. He fails miserably and jerks off furiously, picturing the sparkle of the opal butterflies sculpting your pebbled nipple. When he finally gets to touch you, he’s obsessed, constantly begging you to let him get his mouth on them. He’ll beg you to sit in his lap while he rocks into you, face buried in your chest and lips wrapped around your nipple. His tongue curls greedily over the jewelry, hips pummeling desperately into you until you’re both cumming. Then he insists you cock warm him, unwilling to stop sucking and biting marks into your skin. You will have to pry him off of you because he’ll whine pitifully and ignore your complaints about being sore. He’ll keep his mouth latched onto you for hours if you let him, grinding against you and playing with your clit. The man has a Mommy kink visible from space so if you’re willing to indulge him, he’s a insufferable brat. Good Luck.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher: Literally fist fighting each other to get to you. [“Move, bitch!” Tiktok]. You watch, amused and a little horrified when they start shoving the other out of the way, trying to get their hands on you first. Your earlier reluctance as you looked over your outfit and the very obvious flower shaped jewelry poking through your crop top was completely unnecessary. The two of them are Peak ‘My girl can wear whatever she wants, I can fight” Energy and are constantly encouraging you to dress more promiscuously. They hadn’t been expecting this though, not with how polite and quiet you were. Despite being shorter, Billy gets to you first due to the vicious punch he delivers to Stu’s kidney. “Babe.” He starts, looking at you before stopping and glaring at your boobs, fingers crawling under your top and caressing the warm metal.

You notice Stu creeping behind you and put a stop to it, hyper aware of their intention to strip you. You regret your stubbornness twenty minutes later when they’re fondling you in public, grinning evilly when a passerby sees them and looks away. They’re fascinated. (And may have been on the fence about killing you before this. Now, you’re way too interesting. Congrats, I guess, you’ve got two killers wrapped around your finger.)

#slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #bo sinclair x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #black!reader #reader insert #mine.txt #drabble.txt

231 notes · View notes

leofrith · 5 months

Text

[20 Question Fic Writer Tag]

I wasn't actually tagged by anyone and I would never usually do this but @ainulindaelynn said anyone could consider themselves tagged and this one looked fun so here I am. 🤪

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Five! Four one-shots and one multi-chapter WIP.

2. What is your AO3 word count?

16,451

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Assassin's Creed, formerly (but I'm sure I'll be dragged back into it at some point) Star Wars. I also have a bunch of old WIPs for Pacific Rim and (🤢) the MCU but never completed/published any of them.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I only have five fics posted so:

Hideaway - 147

Bright Skies - 136

Press On, Move Along - 92

Out of the Cold - 35

Honor Bound - 22

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to every comment I get, even if it's just a short little acknowledgement. Because I would like people to know I see them and appreciate them so they keep commenting. <3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Press On, Move Along. Everyone died, dude.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hideaway!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! 🤪

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, as of like... three months ago. I have yet to publish any of it though and it'll probably be a long while before I do, but I also have a little one-shot that may be done long before then if I decide to actually finish it. In terms of "what kind" I think it's pretty vanilla. IDK how else to describe it.🧍🏻‍♀️

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not generally, except for the AC Star Wars AU that has taken over my brain. I'm not even sure I would count that as a crossover so much as a fusion AU because there are absolutely no Star Wars characters in it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I'm not positive this person was copying my fic, but I distinctly remember not long after I posted Hideaway coming across a fic with the same premise (Din playing hide and seek with the kids on Sorgan), which followed all the exact same plot beats as mine. And I do mean exactly. Obviously the plot itself is not particularly groundbreaking and I think there are plenty of other similar stories out there, but this one was similar enough to set off alarm bells.

I didn't end up doing anything about it because again, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and it could have easily been a coincidence, but obviously if they had fully reposted my fic then that would be a different story.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Actively written a fic with another person? No. Plotted a fic from start to finish in a months-long series of increasingly deranged DMs? So many times. Hi Parker. :)

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Girl... I can't answer this. I don't know about "favourite" but if I had to pick a ship that has made me crazy for the most amount of time, it's probably Mako/Raleigh.

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

I still think about my post-Mando s2 fix-it fic every once in a while but I honestly doubt I'll ever finish it. Disney has pretty much killed any care I once had for this show and it fucking sucks. :/

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm not even being modest right now I just actually don't know lmao. Anything that I might qualify as a strength isn't consistent enough for me to feel justified in calling it a strength.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Overthinking my use of commas, editing while I write, feeling directionless when I don't do enough planning ahead of time but feeling suffocated when I do too much planning ahead of time. Also just being sooooo fucking slow, but I think that can be attributed to the overthinking.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I avoid it as much as humanly possible. If someone is speaking another language I'll usually just note it in the text somehow or, as has been the case with Honor Bound a lot of the time, purposefully write from the POV of a character who doesn't speak that language which, in addition to conveniently sidestepping that issue, works well as a narrative device.

I just absolutely hate the thought of putting Google translated dialogue in a fic and having a native speaker cringe their way through grammatically incoherent dialogue lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel >:(

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Honor Bound obviously holds a special place in my heart but Out of the Cold is really good. Like really good IMO.

No-pressure tags: @orphiceonian, @aeide, @findusinaweek, @reiverreturns, @basimibnishaqs, ????? anyone else who wants to <3

#one of my favourite pastimes is talking about my writing instead of actually writing and it shows #ky posts text #tag games

14 notes · View notes

anakinsthot · 6 months

Text

Fic Tag Game!

I was tagged by @veloursdor, @mischievouschan4, and @lilredghost. Y'all probably forgot but I DID NOT. I've just been sad and mopey because I'm working when it's dark out with the time change and it's pitch black by the time I'm home, so I haven't gotten anything done!

How many works do you have on a03?

Ten

2. What’s your ao3 word count?

118,260!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just Star Wars! And I don’t foresee that changing. When I first got into fanfic I wrote for Bleach, Final Fantasy VII (oh my god there were song fics, what the fuck), Harry Potter, Marvel Cinematic Universe (I had forgotten about that completely. Hopefully I forget again), and The Hobbit.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Hey this feels like a war crime, actually. They’re all obikin except the first.

Lady of the Rocks, with 1,125 kudos… my Hobbit fic that hasn’t been touched in like 6 years.

Bitter Honey (BEE FIC, BEE FIC, BEE FIC!! Sits at 447 right now)

Anakin Skywalker, Witch (420, nice)

Living with the Present (402)

Tapio (128)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Although frequently very late. I got bad about it this summer because this summer sucked, emotionally. But I love it when authors respond to my comments so, as hard as it is for me to believe, I imagine that people enjoy when I respond to their comments and try my best to do it.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them have an angsty ending. One of the Harry Potter fics was going to though. LOL.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Anakin Skywalker, Witch.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope!

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes… mostly pretty vanilla right now I think. I need to expand my writing comfort bubble.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t written any. Used to read a ton though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. It’s stressful enough trying to match my own writing voice haha.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Obikin, definitely!

15. What’s a WIP you’d like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

My hobbit fic. I still get comment occasionally asking if I’ll finish it. My big thing with that fic was world-building and I’ve lost a lot of what I had. I WANT to work on it for the people that still enjoy it though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’d say probably dialogue, because I feel like I edit that the least, and world-building.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

….actually writing the words down RIP. Also comma usage.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I avoid it, generally. I read too many fantasy books and fics back in the day where you had to flip to the glossary at the end of the book/bottom of the page for translations and it gets annoying, especially if there’s a multiple characters speaking.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Omg I had to look up my old ff.net account to check this. It was Bleach.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I want to immediately say Anakin Skywalker, Witch. It’s my first obikin fic, my first fanfic after a long hiatus. I’ve put so much work and research into it. But Tapio has a vibe that I really enjoy, and has managed to inspire that vibe in readers so… dark horse winner is Tapio.

Bonus: What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

Probably that damn Hobbit fic. I didn’t have an editor back then so I shudder to think about what the comma situation is there.

I feel like I've seen most people do this game already! So I'm not going to tag anyone, but if you see this and have not been tagged yet/want to do it... this is me, tagging you.

#f u you microsoft word not keeping my formatting #see if i copy/paste a numbered list ever again #fic #tag game #mal writes #ahahahahah never want to look at my ff.net account again #obikin

7 notes · View notes

futureseaempress · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

hi so my sweetheart tagged me in this @hypnostheory so thank u bb

1. How many works do you have in Ao3?

27 (teehee that's my fave number) (i also have like two more on a google drive that are wips,,, some princes don't become kings & first date which is called nastygum in like all my notes)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 163,308 which is like longer than twilight i think

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Homestuck, AFTG, SK8 the Infinity, TMA, Stardew Valley, RWRB, and uhhh law and order svu

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

honey, why're you calling me so late? (matchablossom)

about to bloom (matchablossom)

baby kiss it better (first prince)

i only want what i can't have (first prince)

as certain dark things are to be loved (jonmartin)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i would love to but sometimes i just don't have anything to say

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

uhhhhh i don't think any of my fics have super angsty endings-- fanning the flame was supposed to end with a super sad chapter about agnes and jack but i never wrote it lmao maybe i'll get back to her in november

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

ummmm i try to end everything on a loving/happy note bc that's what i like to read most

i think asking you to stay has like the cheesiest last line

8. Do you get hate on fics?

uh not yet thank goodness. i used to back in my wattpad days though and i did have someone say something kinda off color to me in a writing exchange but that worked itself out

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

because it's most of what i read i try to include like a horny scene in most if not all of my stuff but i like anything rlly i sort by ship, explicit, and go from there I think "Coming In Pants" is a frequent flyer.

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s your craziest one?

Nope. Not my cup of tea. OH MY GOD ACTUALLY I'M A LIAR IN 2012 I HAD A ONE DIRECTION RPF TWILIGHT FANFIC? THAT I NEVER POSTED AND SOLELY EXISTED IN MY NOTES APP THAT MY FRIEND AND I WOULD LIKE ROLEPLAY???? seventh grade was wild for me

11. Have you ever had your fic stolen?

YEP! both my current fanfic and my older stuff like i had a terrible homestuck fanfic on wattpad that someone reposted saying mine was too smutty and then on ao3 there is a fic,,, that,,, very heavily seems to draw from baby kiss it better but idk maybe henry wearing alex's white t shirt and a taylor swift cardigan while sick before alex blows him is just reaaally common

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

so other than some garbage i was writing in middle school no, but i do for sure like let my partner beta everything and we run ideas by each other all the time and like work out how to block stuff and what seems interesting they keep me from going to melodramatic and i help them know what sex sounds fun

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

oh god i can't choose. i love davekat, but i love alex and henry a lot. like a lot. like wow i loved the book last year and the movie has given me brain worms and there's other karkat ships i rlly like. hmmm okay i have two hands and i hold my sons Crabapple and Firstprince.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably never will?

so many davekat wips

the sweet home alabama fic for sure.

the nanny au. uh the other davekat band au that's just a draft... probably fanning the flame. there's also a coda for more silver paint that haunts me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

uhhhhh i think i'm good at banter? (see echoed through my mind) i think i'm good at like making stuff fit into canon and comply with it in fun ways (see this hope is). i think i'm good at writing characters having break downs (see chapter 3 of silver paint or going with the flow)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I SUCK SO BAD AT FINISHING THINGS AND I GET STUCK ON MY PORN EVERY TIME

also commas

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

bafhehasdk so like it's kinda a pet peeve a lot of the times i feel like spanish especially ends up reading kind of like Law and Order dialogue like "he trabajo'ed here last week" but i eat that shit up in theory. like people would probs do better throwing random french in shit bc my ass would be like SOUNDS RIGHT TO ME. it's also like cultural references get lost and i know just enough spanish to know when something is "off" so i prefer like "This is a line of dialogue," they said in Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Homestuck! on wattpad! in 2012! it was bad mpreg! i was 13!!

TMA on ao3! in like 2020

but i did once write a one direction rpf with my friend that we posted on instagram in 2011

20. Favorite fic that you’ve written?

oh god i don't know. i think it's gotta be glory just bc i spent so long with it and i'm hoping to finish it during november (i do nanowrimo in a crazy bass ackwards way) but tire trouble is like the one everyone else loves best??? and i have a sequel in the works for it im just super into rwrb rn

I’m tagging @wardenhawke bc i feel like you might like talking about your ocs at least and i like u

#asks #writers #20 questions for fic writers #20 questions

2 notes · View notes

blu-engineer · 1 year

Text

I posted 4,846 times in 2022

848 posts created (17%)

3,998 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bugsarecool

@ultragreedier

@taintedlazarus

@wayneradiotv

@transexualfaggot

I tagged 2,753 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#bluposting - 977 posts

#no id - 977 posts

#prev - 51 posts

#team answers - 42 posts

#long post - 22 posts

#qd - 21 posts

#id in alt - 20 posts

#literally - 19 posts

#ask to tag - 18 posts

#gold star - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#oh yeah one of my friends touched my hair to see if it was fried and i recoiled from the pain ln my scalp 😭😭 it was so bad for like 2 days

My Top Posts in 2022:

ok my turn, PLEASE INTERACT IF:

you always have captions on

you're a dog person (bonus point if you only have a cat while being one)

you're mspec or aspec (2 points if both)

you prefer this format over the comma one

you make jokes about christianity ("my brother in christ", etc) without being christian

you add others' image descriptions to your original post

you're a past theater/choir kid

you're a picky eater

you like roguelike games, but are TERRIBLE at them

you use steamunlocked

81 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

HEY! ALL OF BIOSHOCK IS FREE ON THE EPIC GAMES STORE FROM NOW (5/26/22) TO JUNE 2ND! DOWNLOAD THE EPIC GAMES DESKTOP APP AND GOGOGO GET YOUR GAMES

84 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

when i was in girl scouts they took my troop of 3 kids to john's incredible pizza and they were like "make a pizza" so the other kids made pizzas with slightly unorthodox combinations meanwhile i continually stacked layers of cheese and pepperoni and sausage and cheese and pepperoni and sausage and i distinctly remember it being very tall and all the little girls at the table being like "that's so tall that's not going to work" and i just kept making my tower of babel and waiting for god to finally strike me down and there was only one layer of sauce. and my father was desperately trying to stop me but he failed. and when they popped it in the oven it shrank down into a miserable little thing and i was convinced they had swapped out my incredible pizza with someone else's but then i cut it open and i saw my glorious layers of pepperoni and sausage and cheese. and i bit into it and it sucked ass.

[ID: A banner with the text "This post was made by a man" (in all caps) over the trans flag. End ID.]

178 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

See the full post

349 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ok. big spoons or small spoons. [as in silverware]. and if youre autistic or not

8,315 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false

3 notes · View notes

essayofthoughts · 2 years

Text

I was tagged last year by @tobermoriansass (here) and @cosmonauthill (here).

Sorry guys.

Name: Aich Essay

Fandoms: Critical Role at present.

Two-Shot: Not entirely sure what is meant by this? But generally I write oneshots, three-chapter short things, or outright multichapters. Simple two-parters always feel weird to me, probably because I lean hard into rule-of-three in writing.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter: A Whisper On My Shoulder aka the first arc of Ghost Cass. Which is good, because it’s something I’m very pleased with.

Actual Worst Part Of Writing: When I’m so close to finishing and my brain goes “Ooh shiny!” at another idea. Also the point at which no music gets my brain in gear anymore.

How You Choose Your Titles: Lines of poetry, song lyrics, quotes from the fic itself, evocative descriptions - whatever works really. Sometimes I come up with the title partway through, sometimes I get to the end and find one.

Do You Outline: I mean... I know the story I want to tell. I know the arc and I usually have a reasonable idea of the ending point - indeed, often I write the ending first. But I don’t really plan? If you asked me to tell you the plot I would happily tell you the story outline loudly and at length in messages, but most of it just swims in brain soup and I only write down a proper outline when I’m having to cope with a timeline or when I’m making divergences I need to account for carefully.

Ideas I Probably Won’t Get Around To But Wouldn’t It Be Nice: I really do want to play with that Perc’ahlia Twilight AU in my WIPs list. Otherwise - I’ve got some old HP fic ideas I’ll get to one day maybe possibly who knows.

Callouts @ Me: Your angst is very predictable and also GODDAMNIT STOP OVERUSING COMMAS.

Best Writing Traits: I have been informed I am good at evocative writing to cause pain, which is good because my niche is angst.

Spicy Tangential Opinion: The number of people who don’t write fanfic so much as their favourite plot with the thin puppet-veneer of fandom and characters slapped on is growing and it sucks. Also, so many people in fandom seem to take rape as the ultimate worst thing someone can do to another, and thereby dismissing torture, manipulation, gaslighting and other just as fucked up, traumatising things. It’s very... simplistic, and also very frustrating.

Tagging: No one, for I am where tag games go to die.

#cosmonauthill #tobermoriansass #tag games #fic things #queue #about me

4 notes · View notes

roosterbox · 8 months

Text

Fic Rec Friday 9/8/23

Title: He Does Not Know

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, lets be real the angst is very short lived, Temporary Amnesia, Canon Temporary Character Death, temporary insanity, Touch-Starved, gratuitous use of commas, Reunions, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Needs a Hug, Several Hugs Actually, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, kissing someone's hand can be so romantic actually, no beta we die like the old guard doesn't, shaving as the 6th love language, Nicky gets a makeover for the first time in 500 years, Team as Family, listen I just think they should get to cry

Summary: Water closes over the top of the metal coffin, and Nicolo prays to a God he no longer believes in for a quick and lasting death.

Or, Nicky is in the Iron Maiden. Through it all, he forgets everything including his own name, but somehow holds onto the knowledge that someone is coming for him.

———

Today’s theme, I suppose, is Canon Divergence. Either that or “Not being able to die would really really suck, actually.”

I love that we stay with Nicky throughout the story, from the horrific early parts, to the softness of the latter ones. We’re with him through it all, and we feel for him. His despair, and his longing (for Joe, or for salvation), but also his determination. Through it all, he persists. I adore that about him.

That isn’t to say that the others aren’t wonderful too, though they don’t show up until later. Joe is lovely as always, and I especially like seeing Quynh, who seems very cool. From what I understand, she isn’t really in the movie (not properly at least), so I like seeing how fic writers utilize her.

The soft, loving scenes between the group (but especially Nicky and Joe) after his rescue are so beautifully tender. A perfect counterpoint to the terrible things that came before. Nicky’s situation in this kind of reminds me of something Captain Jack Harkness went through in Torchwood. In that, Jack was buried alive (hard to bury him dead when he can’t die), and had to deal with resurrecting and then dying via suffocation over and over again. With something like that in mind, I don’t think immortality would be all it’s cracked up to be by some people, you know?

But everything works out in the end. Even if it takes him several hundred years, Joe will always find Nicky. And I will have my sweet, sweet fluffy goodness, lol.

This is a lovely fic, well worth reading.

———

Next Week: Steddie time again! I know you love ‘em!

Next week’s fic kiiiiinda matches the Canon Divergence theme (which I totally did not plan by the way!). In it, we go on the adventure of a lifetime with Eddie, and his evolving relationship with Steve. From sometime in season 2 (I think? Having never watched the show, it can be hard to tell), through season 3, and into season 4. It’s quite beautiful to see how things shift between them over the course of the fic. But for that, you’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t you?

Until next time…

#fic rec Friday #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #the old guard #writer: bookish_changeling #canon divergence #Nicky really goes through it #but everything works out #in the end #the immortal husbands are really quite beautiful together #you know?

1 note · View note

wiipes · 3 years

Text

everybody SHUT UP I'm embracing my love for choral music, not like church stuff but like choral choral, like the kind choirs sing and stuff. mostly because I was in choir before quarantine struck and I can't sing with my peers. Also fuck what my boyfriend says, opera is BEAUTIFUL AND ENCHANTING.

But also my likes are kind of fucked.

In order, in one section, is Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, EGIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE by Corpse, and then Vivaldi: Orlando furioso by Vivaldi + Bartoli + Ensemble.

WHAT VIBES IS THIS??

in any case, I can never play my likes playlist at work or even shuffle, the monstrosity would cause mass mayhem and as much as I would adore the chaos, I need this job lmao.

#music shit #what is my playlist? shall i provide ss??#who knows but this lady singing to me in italian or latin is so pretty #no i have no idea what she looks like but her voice is so goddamn pretty #what the fuck #if only i could get that high and consistently #the smoothness of her voice #oh my god #and the strings too!!#the song is Nulla in mundo pax RV 630 #theres a comma after pax but #commas end tags so sucks to suck #Dont @ me #choral slaps #especially for sleep

2 notes · View notes

killmehe · 2 years

Text

𝙃𝘽𝘿, 𝙈𝙄𝘼!

Summary – In which Bakugou is late to his own birthday party but he’s certainly not complaining.

Pairing – Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

WC – 2950

Tags – MDNI - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT- 18+, Aged-up Character(s), Coworkers-to-Lovers, Smut, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Hair-pulling, Probably Aggressive Use of Commas and Misuse of Semicolons, No Beta

A/N: I had to do something for my boy (even if i cut it close to the deadline),,, and tht means my first published attempt at smut. Happy birthday to u, king

It’s 6:47 PM and Bakugou was supposed to be at the bar for his birthday celebration exactly seventeen minutes ago.

He didn’t even want a party anyway, not that Eijirou and Mina listened to his many, loud complaints when they planned it. He was just shrugged off like he is every year— ignored and told that they need an excuse to get drunk and hang out, to live like the twenty-somethings they actually are because it’s important to unwind. That they just want to do something nice for him and he always has fun at his birthday celebrations, whether he cares to admit it or not. Something he supposes is right, not that they actually have the evidence to back such a claim up.

Plus, Eijirou had nudged him with a not-so-secretive secret wink and a knowing grin, you were meant to be there too. Bakugou made a point to let off a blast with enough heat to singe the ends of his eyebrows for the comment, even if the knowledge of your presence at his lame birthday party had little flashes of excitement filling up his guts. Even if it made him just the tiniest bit excited to see you outside of the agency walls.

It’s 6:47 PM and you’re also seventeen minutes late for Bakugou’s birthday celebration.

Instead of sitting in the same seedy bar they have all their public hangouts and parties at, laughing along with some dumb joke Denki has made or grinning into the lip of a beer bottle as Bakugou and Deku start to squabble, you’re still at the agency office, knees digging into the hardwood floor while you make Bakugou’s toes curl in the leather of his boots.

“F-fuck— oh, fuckin’ christ.”

It was an excellent idea on your part to close the door to his office before you cornered him, especially considering how the situation has unexpectedly snowballed — his cock, hard and pulsing, leaking all over your lips and tongue while you suck him down.

You had only intended to give him his present away from prying eyes. The little plant in question is currently balanced a little too close to the edge of his desk, the clay of its pot clinking quietly as it fights to stay upright. You catch it wobbling from side to side out of the corner of your eye when one of his legs kicks out in response to the flash of your tongue on the strong vein of his underside, a little trembling present in the tenseness of the jerk. It was meant to liven up his desk space — nothing too extravagant but something he could look at every day to hopefully remember the person who gave it to him. It was a sweet thought but you’re worrying that it might not even make through his impending orgasm if he’s not careful.

((“Ya got me a weed?”

He sets it down on his desk, eyeing it with the same level of scrutiny he does a villain. This is a sight you’ve been privy to through video footage of his fights and the action shots plastered all over magazines but seeing it in person is totally different and infinitely more intimidating. A tsunami of embarrassment floods your body instantly, washing you away with the heat of humiliation that comes with making a misstep, like giving the man you had been pining after for over a year a gift he hated. You’re convinced more and more that he hates it when you watch him pinch at a striped leaf, red eyes still glaring.

Your face feels hot and you can only hope he doesn’t notice the urgency in your body as you go to snatch back the pot from him. You let out a pathetically nervous laugh, trying to dislodge the tension that’s causing your shoulders to rise to your ears whilst leaning over the front of his desk to retrieve it. Anything to stop him before he sets it on fire with his mind. “I know it’s not much. It’s not even what I wanted to give you but that would have hardly been appropriate! Here, I’ll take it back—“

Your hands have only just curled around the bottom of the terra-cotta, cupping the sides of it to pull it back to your side when his hands, still gloved, fight you back. They grip around you, yanking the plant back toward his chest and bringing you along with it until you're on the tips of your toes, just barely managing to balance yourself so you don’t go sprawling over his planner.

He’s aggressive, still tugging at the plant (and you) with one of his deep scowls. “The hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t fuckin’ take it back now!”

The fight leaves you quickly (Were you ever going to be able to out-maneuver him? You’re only a secretary, for god’s sake.), and all you can do is tip against his desk and spiral in disbelief at the fact that he’s now attached to it despite his lackluster response. Something else deepens the shock even more. The sudden knowledge that you’re wrapped around each other is immediately apparent to both parties and sends both of you halting in your tracks further.

Neither of you have touched so directly before — no situation had ever called for it, which makes perfect sense when accounting for the roles you fulfill as an office hand and his as a Pro hero. That logic has never stopped you though since your monster crush on him has only grown the longer you’ve been around him and your desire to have your hands all over him has grown with it. It doesn’t help that he’s always been objectively beautiful — the countless fans you have to turn away at the door proof enough that he’s really just that handsome — so it’s really no wonder that you want him and that you want to feel him.

All of your attention is suddenly zapped to where you’re now linked with him, palms held still and suspended between your bodies over the mahogany of his desk. The pot is small which only means one thing; his hands encase your own, big and hot, even through the leather of his gloves. The heat of his hands —no doubt from his quirk— suddenly sends you careening into insanity until all that’s left pinging around your head is how they would engulf you when squeezing the fat of your sides or gripping the back of your neck with the strength you felt moments before when he was defending his plant.

And you don't see it but he’s wrapped up in looking at your hands and thinking about them, too. How they look like they can fit perfectly in the crevices of his own. How they look soft, and how he knows that they are because of the little grazes of skin that happen when you work at an office together. How he’s been thinking about touching you like this and many other ways before, during the countless sleepless nights he’s wrestled with his attraction and perverted thoughts. How it’s going to take all that he can do to stop himself from wanting to do it over and over and over now that he’s gotten this far.

At the same time you both look up, noses only inches away from brushing despite the desk still separating the two of you. You examine his face, much closer to him than you ever thought you would be able to get. The sun has begun to set, orangey glows managing to come in from the slates only seeming to heighten just how pretty he is in the here and now while looking at you — ash blonde hair tinted gold by the light, the constant furrow of his brow, the peachy color flooding to his cheeks, the slight part of his mouth.

You whisper because the loss of space that’s resulted in your tug of war means neither of you needs to go beyond that. You whisper because the stilted moment seems to demand that type of intimate volume. “Do you like it?”

His voice is quiet, a low gravel that comes several slow seconds later like he needed to sit on his answer while he continued to fixate on your own face. “Yeah. I like the damn thing.”

Neither of you has pulled away, hands still clasped around the tiny snake plant. “Good,” you breathe. His eyes, darker than you’ve ever seen them, are pulled to the way your mouth curves around that one word and suddenly things feel a whole lot clearer in terms of how he feels about you, especially if his response to how close you are now is anything to go off of. The thought has you feeling giddy, a little bold for once.

“What was the original gift?”

Images flash through your head, ones that your friends planted in your head when you lamented what to get him, giggling teasingly at you like a bunch of perverts. Ones you barely considered for a very short period of time before knocking some sense into yourself because you had no idea if you were just reading into things, where he stood on the subject of you. Mental pictures of lewd positions and sounds that have gotten you off after days at the agency with him, when he’s pushed you to the point where the vibration of your toys and the thought of him had been the only thing able to soothe your aches.

For some reason, it doesn’t feel so ridiculous to take the leap, especially after feeling the way he still hasn’t let go of your hands and how he hasn’t torn his eyes away from your lips.

You don’t question the sudden confidence surging through your body. Pulling one hand out of his grasp and lifting it to his chin, you tilt his face between your fingers. It takes him by surprise, even if he tries to hide it by quickly schooling his expression. His eyes are still wider than you’ve ever seen them and you still catch how his adam's apple bobs enticingly in his throat with what you now recognize as a mirroring of your own interest.

“I think I can show you better than I can tell you.”))

And now, here you are, sucking a mind-numbing row of kisses up the side of his cock while he heaves above you like he’s just run a marathon.

You pull off with a pop once you meet the crease of his head, lewd and spit-slicked down your chin, before working a firm hand up and down. “You okay, Katsuki?”

At some point in the whole exchange between heated kisses and gropes, he had requested you use his god-given name. Every time you’ve used it since it has pulled a shudder down his spine, without fail. This time you get the added bonus of an extra beading of precum slickening at the slit of his head.

You hope he never loses the reaction.

He groans from deep in his chest, thighs fluttering around where they cage you against his desk. “‘M fuckin’ f-fine,” he growls, his now ungloved hand (because he wanted to really feel you, he had managed to grit out while pulling the leather off with his teeth) trailing down to where you kneel. It curls itself around the back of your head, pulling you closer and closer until he can feel the little puffs of air you let out better against the head. “‘Just look prettier than I imagined—“ He pauses, and then like he can’t help himself, “—feel b-better too.”

You’ve already soaked through your panties, courtesy of how he had kissed you like he would die otherwise and his roaming hands, but knowing he’s imagined you like this before has your clit throbbing and your cunt flooding with fresh arousal. You place a sweet kiss on his slit, still stroking up and down dutifully, smearing more of his stickiness on your mouth. “Yeah? You thought of me?”

He looks exceptionally desperate when you do it, his brows still furrowed like always but not angry, bottom lip tugged mercilessly between his teeth. It’s still Bakugou —the man who has to fight against everything in his being to get his words out and only barely managing to vocalize his affection enough to allow you to get this far with him— but something about feeling your tongue wrapping around him and your hand rubbing warm strokes along his lower stomach has made confessing things much easier for him. “Since you s-started.”

“Fuck.“ The moan you let out from his words, him admitting to fucking his fist to you for the last two years, is muffled. You take it upon yourself to stuff him halfway down your throat and to suck hard, fisting whatever you don’t take down to send his thighs twitching again.

Your outburst only loosens his lips more, encouraging more noises to vibrate up your throat and around where he’s stretched your lips from his girth. “Ah, always—Shit!— always wanted you. Only y-you,” He huffs, gluing his eyes to how you start to sink lower and lower on his cock, insatiable in a way he never thought you would be.

You pull off again, your hand working to spread your spit all over, twisting and squeezing at the head to hear the little whines he makes. Speeding up your pace sends his head flying back to the top of his desk chair, his teeth gritting at themselves as you work him closer and closer to the edge he’s been teetering on for the last ten minutes. You speak low and sweet, nudging the tip of your nose into a love mark you left on the inside of his thigh. “Always wanted you too, baby. Wanted you like this so bad.”

His hand tightens into a fist at the back of your head, not aggressive in how he wants you to move so much as needing to grip at something while bracing for impact; the white heat in his stomach roaring at your words — at the pet name you used for him. It’s the beginning of a surge that can only be a powerful orgasm being pulled from his body by someone he’s lusted and longed over for the last two years. He stutters out your name. “Close, ‘m close, baby.”

You abandon the bruise blooming on his skin to replace the filthy squelching of your hand with your mouth, bobbing your head at the same speed. The hand you left suspended at his lower stomach, that’s only pet through the downy hairs beneath his navel moves further down finally. The cherry on top that should send him shattering; You waste no time in rubbing and rolling at his balls as they start to tighten, brushing not so subtly at the patch of skin beneath them. It marks the beginning of the end for Bakugou.

He’s been loud to this point. Growls and groans, the deep heaving of his chest filling the room with more sounds than just your efforts. You can tell the minute his orgasm hits him —hard and fast like a train— with how it slacks his jaw and makes him wind his eyes shut but it’s the way all sound from him ceases that you really know he’s in the thick of it.

You’re greeted with the first spurt of his cum only a milliseconds after he locks up, hot and a little tangy in how it coats your tongue. It fills you up, almost faster than you can swallow, and just keeps coming. It’s all you can do to keep up with each twitch of his cock but it’s worth it when the moan that was obviously trapped right in his throat is released, long and winded as he finally starts to shakily deflate into his chair.

His body unstiffens throughout the course of his high, his thighs trembling next to your head like they want to close and keep you there forever. The grip in your hair finally turns harsh, meanly tugging at it the longer you lick and suck him through the ribbons he paints in your mouth. He sounds wounded above you like he’s been punched in the gut. “Fuck, you t-took it.”

You only pull off of him once his sounds start to sound less like pleasure and more like pain, thoroughly satisfied with how you’ve left him boneless in his chair for at least a few moments.

You pet your hands down his thighs, affectionate despite how your own legs have begun to tremble from your position, smiling up at him charmingly with swollen lips in the face of his glassy, love-dumb eyes. “Happy birthday, Katsuki.”

His phone buzzes from its place on his bookshelf, lighting up with what is the fourth message from Kirishima because he’s missing out on his own birthday party. One message reads that he’s missing out on all the gifts his friends had brought him. Another is just a barrage of crying emojis obviously meant to guilt trip him into showing up.

Bakugou doesn’t even look back at the sound of the vibration because he’s too busy pulling you up by the back of your neck for a soul-searing kiss that knocks the breath from your lungs and sends you tumbling into his lap.

It’s 6:56 PM. The both of you are twenty-six minutes late to his birthday celebration at the bar — and with the way he begins to suck on your tongue while his hands snake under your skirt to grip at the flesh of your ass, you don’t think you’re going to be making it anytime soon.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x chubby reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou smut #pls b gentle if its like.....REALLY BAD SMUT I TRIED I PROMISE #I wrote this instead of the two papers for my class so if its bad ITS BECAUSE I WAS PREOCCUPIED #i would have definitely liked to have written more BUT ITS A BIRTHDAY FIC so i decided to prioritize it being posted by then #such is the life 🥹#mine!!

370 notes · View notes

snzunii · 2 years

Text

— SEE YOU AGAIN [18]

+ summary. in which you and sanzu are in a very chaotic marriage.

+ tags. romance, fluff, heavy (?) angst, modern au, smau, arrange marriage au, college setting, use of profanities, eventual smut, 18+

+ chapter tags. drinking, smoking, explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnillingus, drunk sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, tit sucking, dumbification, overstimulation, creampie, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY !!

+ note. hi helloooo, here's the chapter 18, yaaaaay <333 thanks to @feralfordazai for beta reading, ily kai <3 anyway, hope u enjooooy! feedbacks are always appreciated. lemme know what u think ;)

+ status. on-going

+ masterlist.

Sanzu has known you for years, he thinks it’s safe to say that he has known you his whole life. Ever since the two of you were born, there's been an inconspicuous string that connected your lives together, hanging at the each end of your fingers that no matter what—it could never be broken—you’re the end of his line and he is yours.

That’s how he perceives your lives together, you and him against the world if you must say. To him, you’re one—you’re entwined; you’re the other half of his whole being—ergo, he knows if the other half of him is distraught.

He knows you like the back of his hand, you’re like a book that he reads all over again to the point that he can recite every line, to the point that he knows where every comma is placed after the words.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with an obvious concern laced on his gentle voice, “Tell me, hm?”

“It’s nothing.” he wished he could believe you, he wished that he could ignore the perturbed expression written all over your face, but how can he ignore it if it’s you? “I’m okay, Haru. I promise.”

A frown wrinkles on his forehead as he holds your face, urging you to look at him, “You’re not. Don’t lie to me.”

How come you're running like you’re being chased and didn't even notice him until you bumped into him if you say that you’re ‘okay’?

“It’s…” you paused, it felt like there's some big thing stuck on your throat—restricting you to breath and form coherent words to say. How else would you tell him that his ex was here?

You wanted to laugh, is this the universe’s way of punishing you for hiding something so horrible? For keeping something that you know would haunt you for God knows how long?

Was she here to remind you of the guilt that you’re bottling up inside you?

“It’s what? Come on, baby. You know you can talk to me.”

Naomi’s here. Two words and yet writing a thousand words essay about some random thing was much easier for you to do at this moment. Maybe, just maybe you were afraid to see the look on his face when you tell him that the woman he once loved was here, you’re afraid that there’s still some lingering feelings if he saw her.

The look on his enticing blue eyes was meant for you and you solely, you’re scared shitless to let him glance at her for even a millisecond—fearing that you might see the vivacity that was intended to be yours.

It’s not that you don't trust him, but can you blame yourself for feeling this way for the reason that there’s still a deep-seated thought at the back of your mind that you stole him?

Did I steal you? Am I really the bad guy here?

“Haru.” your voice was trembling, “I… I need to tell you something.”

There’s tears forming at the side of your eyes as you look at the person you love with your whole being for the most of your life. The next thing he knew, you were clinging on to him—arms wrapped around his waist so tight as if he'd go away if you didn't hold him like this. “You can tell me anything, yeah?”

He reciprocated your embrace, gentle hand combing your hair; his other arm pulling you close to him, tightening his hold around your body—planting a small kiss on the side of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“She’s here.” you gripped his shirt, “Naomi’s here.”

Silence was the only form of response that you got from him, you knew it, he’s definitely surprised. You can’t see the look on his face since yours was buried on his chest. You’re afraid to look at him but that fear gradually faded once you heard him chuckle, “And? Is that why you’re crying?”

You heard him sigh once you looked at him with your teary eye, “Come on. I love you. Okay?”

He cupped your face and leaned his forehead on yours, giving your nose a small kiss, “There’s no need to worry because I’m yours, she’s there for all I care. We came here to have fun, so stop crying or else I’ll throw your ass in the pool.”

He gave you his reassuring smile that puts your heart at ease. Yet, the worries are still there. You’re curious as to what reason Naomi told him when they broke up. Did she tell him a lie? But why would she willingly lie to him if she really loved him? Or maybe Naomi doesn’t know anything—maybe, her mother didn’t want her to be involved with that whole threat thing and covered it up.

This whole Naomi thing was messing your mind up that you forgot the whole reason that you’re here with your friends at this very resort.

The constant thinking halted the moment you felt his lips above yours, kissing your lips with such reassurance that he’s only yours. That you’re the one who’s at this moment right now, you’re the one who’s kissing him, the only one who’s at the receiving end of his boundless love and affection.

Senju, on the other hand, was supposed to get his brother to come and find you but instead she finds you together—she lets out a sigh in relief plus a smile which she would never ever show you two—she’s dead set on acting disgusted with the two of you.

You both pulled away, giggling, when you heard that one familiar voice, “Okay, really? You ran off and left me there just to exchange disgusting saliva with my brother?”

…

The whole day with your friends was fun and, you know it, chaotic. There’s just endless teasing and mocking, courtesy of your husband and the Haitanis.

You could say that you almost forgot that your husband’s ex was just a few steps away from the cottage you’re all in. But if Sanzu says that he doesn’t care then you can do it, right? Perhaps they’re just really here to have fun.

You have your own worlds and you wouldn’t let your mind wander off to theirs anymore.

After you all dipped yourselves in the pool and did embarrassing but fun things on the beach, you’re now here sitting around with your friends in your assigned cottage—stuffing yourselves with the leftover food from dinner while drinking different kinds of alcoholic drinks.

“Never have I ever had sex at the back of a nightclub at my dad’s car that I took without saying anything then I thought I was safe until our dad saw the underwear that my one night stand left on the floor of the car-”

“Rindou, that's so specific!” Ran complained at his brother, eliciting a series of laughs from all of you when Ran drank his alcohol anyway. “I fucking hate you.”

Rindou just gave his brother a coy grin, “Sorry.”

Ran raised his eyebrow, staring at his brother with a bit of hatred in his eyes, “Really? Are you though?”

“Dumb assholes, stop that.” Koko put a pin on the brothers’ petty bickering and cleared his throat, you chuckled at the obvious tint of red on his cheeks and the bit of slur in his voice because of all the alcohol he drank—well, you all drank. “My turn. Never have I ever...”

You didn’t pay any attention to Koko once you felt Sanzu’s warm breath on your ear, waiting for him maybe whisper something but all you could feel is him biting and licking your ear—all the while, his large hand strokes your thigh up and down, squeezing it every once in a while—the continual contact stirs something inside you, as if the tip of his fingers emit electricity that ignites the doused heat in your body.

“You're drunk, huh?” you whispered once you turned to him, he gave you a lascivious smirk, he pulled away for a bit—putting the other end of the cigarette stick in between his lips—dragging the smoke inside his mouth.

His other hand that was on your thigh shifted to your chin, you stare at him completely aware as to what he wants to do—the discernable intoxication on you was so satisfying for him to see. The stupefied glint in your eyes, the inebriated demeanor—just fuck. He can't even explain what he feels right at this moment, maybe it’s just the alcohol making him feel like his body’s on fire or maybe it was you, his fucking gorgeous wife that he can’t keep his hands off of.

“Open your mouth, baby.” he ordered, which you obliged without even batting an eyelash—he exhales the smoke inside your mouth, a proud smirk was seen on his face when you dragged the smoke down to your throat and exhaled it back out. “Fuck. Good girl.”

“You know we can see you, right? Get a room.” and suddenly, both your awareness came back when you heard Emma say that, looking at the two of you with her eyebrows raised—you giggled and mumbled a sorry before Haruchiyo pulled you up.

“Oh. He’s gonna get some~” Ran said in a singsong manner, which earned the usual disgusted look from Senju.

The both of you didn’t even gave a single fuck about their teasing and disappeared before their eyes—the next you knew, you were rid off the swimsuit that you were wearing as you kneel in front of your husband; looking up at him with your bit teary eyes while taking his long veiny shaft in your mouth while he was gripping your hair—looking down at you with his mouth slightly ajar.

“So fucking good,” he rasped out, his hold on your hair tightens along with a hiss when you twirled your tongue on his head while bobbing your head up and down his cock, “Fuck, yeah. Just like that. You’re so good, baby- fuck.”

There’s just something about him giving you endless praise while you suck his dick off—it was making your cunt ache in anticipation, leaving your pussy dripping and craving his cock to just rut inside your creamy walls. Just imagining the feeling feels as though you’re reaching your orgasm—but who are you kidding? Nothing beats his actual dick pounding on you senselessly.

You let go of his cock with a pop, exchanging your mouth with your hand as you help yourself up while jerking him off—he pulls you close to him, gripping your waist while he leans his lips above yours—biting your lip when your hand gets a little too tight around his dick.

“H-haru—mhm.” you moaned in his mouth, his fingers sliding up and down your pussy lips. It was your turn to bite his lip when his thumb finally circles on your swollen clit, making your nerves fire up—the sensation permeating on your veins and exudes out of your body in the form of wet creamy juices on Haruchiyo’s fingers. “Yeah- uh… shit-”

He carries you to the bed, gripping your ass cheeks before slamming your back into the mattress. “Come on, angel. Spread your legs for me, hm?”

You’re his good girl indeed, spreading your legs for him as wide as you could—just so he could lap on your pussy folds, licking you with the flat of his tongue, delving it inside your hole while his thumb rubs your clit. “H-haru! Nggh— so good. So so good.”

“I know, baby.” he said with a proud voice and a pussy drunk expression on his handsome face, he had all the rights to be cocky about it—he was eating you out like a full course meal, he loves going down on you—licking and making sure to taste every bits of your cunt. His fingers spread out your folds, giving him a perfect access to your red puffy clit and not long, his tongue laps around your clit.

Which absolutely makes you go wild, thrashing on the bed as you grip his hair in between your fingers—mewling his name so loudly and luciously. “Haru, please. Fuck me—nggh! Want your cock, so bad.”

“Yeah? Tell me more, baby. Tell me how much you want my dick inside you.” he crawls up to your tits, kneading the other mound with his hand while he sucks the other with his warm mouth.

It’s not helping that his cock is resting above your cunt, and now his hips move to grind on your wet pussy—coating his shaft with your juices, a needy whimper escapes your lips along with the twitching of your thighs when his shaft rubs against your clit creating a heavenly friction. “J-just fuck me- ah! Please-”

Fuck, damn it. Even his chuckles were titillating—it was like angels bringing you to your seventh heaven.

“Since you asked for it, yeah?” he grunts, pushing his cock inside your tight cunt. He let out a dragged moan when he felt your walls clasping around his shaft to perfection, you were gripping on the sheets as you bite your lips to contain your lewd moans. You feel so full, it’s amazing how good it feels being stuffed with his cock—him, balls deep in your pussy and the tip of his dick kissing your cervix.

You hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you to give him sloppy kisses, “Mhm—move, H-haru. Fuck me g-good, please?”

And, who the fuck is he to ignore your pleads? Your needy whimpering along with the look in your glossy eyes to just fuck you stupid can’t be simply ignored. The sounds coming out of you were raucous and lewd, not even caring that the people in the cabana next to you might hear your skins hitting each other. Or they probably had—either way, no one can stop you from fucking like wild animals in heat that the bed is so close to breaking.

Your tits were bouncing along the incessant pounding of his cock inside your cunt, your pussy is so perfect for him—and for him only, he fucks you with the thought that he’s the only one who can make you feel like this, dumb and filled to the brim with his fat cock. That alone could make him cum, the thought and the feeling of your pussy bracing his cock. Oh god, it was definitely heaven.

It was perfect, so damn perfect. He stared at your fucked out face while rutting his dick inside you—harder and faster, “Pretty… f-fuck your pussy feels so good, baby.”

You can’t even form comprehensible words, you were so out of your mind that you can’t even tell who you are. You were so insensible that you didn’t even know you were cumming until you felt that tingling sensation on your lower abdomen, traveling down to your cunt to your limbs. He was fucking you with juices seeping out of your pussy uncontrollably.

“Mhm— ‘m cumming! Haru!” you whimpered, gripping his forearm as you feel your cunt getting sensitive with each thrusts, “Ah—Ngghh! Haru—chiyo-”

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” he groaned, pushing his body to yours then he buried his face on your neck—biting and nibbling on your skin. “Fuck fuck, feels so good. Hah—I love you.”

He forcefully slammed his cock inside, his thick cum spurting out of his dick into your velvet walls. Both panting, you looked at each other with a satisfied smile on your face, the alcohol wearing out of your system. “I love you, Haru.”

He kisses every part of your facial features, landing last on your soft lips before giving you an answer, “You know I love you most.”

…

After that mind-numbing sex you had with your husband, naturally, you would fall asleep with you in his arms and when you wake up—you’re still in that position you were the night before—but not today, you woke up with you alone in that bed, craving his arms wrapped around you lovingly.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning already, you reached for your phone and sent him texts as to where he is but to no avail, there were no answers.

You decided to get up and find him yourself, you even went to the cottage since you thought that he might be there with your friends but the only people there were the Haitani brothers and Kokonoi.

“He didn't come here?”

Rindou shook his head, “Hm. The last we saw him was when you two left together.”

Of course, you’re a bit worried. It’s late, you don't even know where he is. You thanked Rindou and wandered around the resort looking for your nowhere to be found husband—and you wish you didn't.

You just wished that you didn't wake up from that sleep, you hoped that you should’ve stayed in your room and waited for him to come back—or will he? Will he still come back after this?

Just how dumb are you?

Instead of coming to him, you sent him a text and turned around to walk wherever your feet bring you.

“Hey.” the torpid look on Yuzuha’s face was exchanged with worry once she saw fat tears rolling down your cheeks. She didn't even mind that her head was killing her. “What happened? Why are you crying—come in here.”

The moment that she pulled you close to her was the high sign for you to sob, gripping on her shirt so tightly—just like how your heart was bearing right at this moment.

It felt like a thousand needles were pricking your heart, it was like someone is ripping it apart then brings it back together only to rip it again in front of you.

“Hey, tell me what’s wrong.” Yuzuha says once again as she tries to calm you down but whatever you do you can't shake this tormenting feeling burning your chest.

It was so damn painful that you couldn't even speak without gasping for air, your cries were enough to make Yuzuha feel the distress herself—she didn't even need to know the reason—all she knows is, it was so hard listening to you weep your eyes out.

“I…” you paused, hiccuping—your face was still buried on Yuzuha’s neck, arms still latching on to her as if you were a kid telling her mother that you’ve picked on or had your heart broken by this one man that you love, “He’s… he’s with Naomi and…”

“And what?” Yuzuha asked softly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, you can just cry and I’ll list—”

You bit your lip as the image you saw earlier popped on your mind once again, it was so gut-wrenching, so excruciating that you just wanted to pull your heart out so that you couldn't feel the hurt.

It’s funny how you were the one in that position earlier—it was so funny that you wanted to laugh at yourself for thinking that you’re the only one who gets to do that.

“They’re kissing, Yuzuha.”

+ see you again taglist. @hanmascult @ryouhoe @fl4mepillar @meena-in-a-nutshell @haruphilia @hxked @xxrwzy @sophiesuna @douraken @mapachemapato @kawaii-desv @eriskaitto @smolaf-filipino @hanmasgf @mitsuika @lustiel-winchester @cryszus @babydiamondblog @sseorin @k0ut4r0u @bbloblobb @gulfkfl

+ tokyo revengers taglist. @cosmiclvsh @tojisqueen @imnotjo @r-xochitl @bekky06 @toshiswifey @ninetyeightrins @litle-crow @n-nara @hollowpurpl @iiclal @miyuuuuuposts @haitanilove @aclairysm @awkcasted @yukie35 @Prettylily @chronic-claire-universe @inupiko @chosoisbaby @marixxi @spaceemeeat @shizukuusagii @amaejiki @parca-de-destinos @kuraries @missysimpy @a-astxr @fr00g1es @gwynsapphire @kookie-my-little-sunshine @kqtsukisgf @angtsumu @cakenchill @madarasgf

#sanzu x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #sanzu #bonten sanzu #bonten smau #tokrev smau #sanzu fluff #sanzu angst #sanzu haruchiyo #kakucho hitto #kakucho x reader #kakucho x you #kakucho x y/n #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x you

357 notes · View notes

fanficmemes · 3 years

Note

Do you or your followers happen to know how to add custom/non-canonical tags to a fic on ao3 on mobile, by any chance? I figured out how to do it for additional tags, but my rarepair doesn't HAVE an official tag on ao3, and neither does one of the characters, so I'll have to do it myself, but whenever I type it the "enter" button is replaced with "next" so it just goes to the next section and doesn't add the tag. I've tried putting a comma at the end in hopes that would make it work but it doesn't seem to, it still just says "no suggestions found" and moves me onto the next box if I try to hint enter. I don't have access to a computer or laptop so I can't fix it that way, and it's driving me up the wall that the only custom tags mobile will let me make are additional tags, not relationship or character tags

Oh dude that sucks :( I’ve never needed to that, so ive never run into that problem. Maybe someone on here knows how to fix it??? Or u could ask @ao3commentoftheday or @dear-ao3 they’re really good fandom blogs that have helped w this stuff before

#asks #ao3 problems #hope u get it figured out!!!#I’d love to help but I only write on my laptop :(

202 notes · View notes

assassins-and-hidden-blades · 3 years

Text

Trust Me -- Part 2

02/06/2021: Wow, uh, wow. This one got me. Almost started crying at the cheesy ending. I will cringe at it in precisely two months from now. Thank you guys SO much for all the positive feedback of PART 1, it really helped me finish this part. Without you guys, this would have been still sitting in my drafts. There's lowkey a bit of pressure in this actually being GOOD, so I'm sitting here with a bit of Imposter SyndromeTM and crossing everything I can cross that you guys like it. I can't tell whether I went overboard or not, though... I guess that's for you guys to tell me lmao.

Also, these commas can be pried from my very cold, extremely dead, fingers.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! For the first time in almost ever, I'm a bit very nervous to post this -- I hope you enjoy it!!

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @yourlocalfrenchie // @rahdaleigh // @sofiewithat /// @iceboundstar // @mythandmagik // @itseivwhore // @pink-polarfox // @missbenzayb // @ct-5445 // @timbreavery // @dacian-assassin // @thepalaceofmelanie // @asilverraven // @huntheimpossible // @eclectic--assassin // @thehistorynut19 // @ta-ka-shi-ma // @roki3chocoa // @fandomsfanman // @le-nottibianche // @bandit-brunsmeier // @starmoji1 // @spocktheestallion // @salty-thembo // @missingfrye // @xdeimos // If you want to be tagged, let me know!!

Warnings: Lots of swearing, a bit of graphic violence, implicit mention of sexual assault (I hope it's not a spoiler to say that this does not actually happen, but the idea is used as manipulation. It's not done well, but I'm blaming that on the character being a horrible liar, instead of me sucking at write arseholes), implied character death.

Pairing: Edward Kenway x F!Reader

Assassin's Creed Mobile Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption 2 Mobile Masterlist

The neighbouring ship was chaotic. The opponents were drunk on victory, so slipping through unnoticed was easy. The hard part was going to be staying undercover until you could free Edward and the rest of the crew without anyone falling casualty. “Strip them of their weapons and take them to the brig!” You heard the Quartermaster yell. Thinking quickly, you moved to Edward; if you knew where his weapons were, escaping could be much easier. People were already pulling out his pistols and cutlasses, fortunately dumping them in your arms. Looking around, you pulled away to hide them in an inconspicuous barrel for later.

You weren’t planning on staying long.

Quickly rejoining the group, you took hold of one of your crew members -- you recognised him as one named Jonah -- at the back of the crowd, keeping your face covered lest they accidentally reveal your identity. You kept your eye on Edward’s tense shoulders the entire time, heading below deck and to the rows of cells at the end of the ship.

As you gently pushed Jonah into the cell, someone slammed the door shut, chucking the ring of keys your way. “Lock ‘em up.” Swallowing, you nodded, feeling uncomfortable under their gaze while turning the key in the lock. Taking them out of your hands, a mop and bucket was shoved in its place. “You’re on cleaning duty, starting upstairs; let’s go.” With one last glance, your eyes scoured for Edward before they all disappeared from view.

----------

Edward

There was this crushing anxiety he just couldn’t shake. It rendered him almost motionless, crouched in the corner of the cell, picking at his sleeves. There was a commotion heading towards them; he was in for company he was not in the mood for.

Heavy footsteps gave away the visitor. “We searched your boat.” His crew parted to clear a view as Charles Marlowe relaxed against the cell bars. “We found your woman.”

Edward’s eyes snapped to Marlowe’s as he clenched his jaw, almost daring him to say more.

With a chuckle and a disgusting grin, he brought out a small knife to clean. “Don’t you want to know where she is?”

“I expect you’d would tell me regardless.”

“I would advise against winding me up, Kenway. I could always take my anger out on her instead.”

It took a second for Edward’s arms to fly through the bars, constricting around Marlowe’s throat. “What have you done with her?”

Although cold metal pressed against his jaw, he didn’t ease up.

“She’s waiting for me very nicely... in my cabin.”

Edward didn’t have to think very hard to infer his meaning.

“I’ll kill you if you touch her. I’ll kill you.” Growling, he held impossibly tighter, for if he was here, he wasn’t there.

“With your actions come consequences, Kenway. And you might not be the one paying for them.”

A dilemma came to mind: delay him to keep him away from you, or risk the consequences of his revenge?

Somewhat luckily, he didn’t need to choose.

Before Edward could comprehend that he loosened his grip, Marlowe slipped out of his grasp. The distraught Captain pressed himself against the bars, anger drenching his expression as he heaved out breaths. His captor laughed. “You’re very good at empty threats, Kenway.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” His cold tone streaked through the crew, setting hairs on end. They had never heard their Captain like this before; so angry, so dangerous.

It terrified them.

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime…” With a mocking whistling tune, Marlowe spun on his heels and began to walk away.

“Come back here, bilge rat!” He pulled harshly against the cell door. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Then you better stay in line.”

As he disappeared from view, Edward’s emotions overwhelmed him, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. He turned to a solid wall, slamming the side of his fist against it and yelled.

Fear, anger, guilt, and grief echoed around the brig.

Collapsing against the wood, he hid his face in his hands, aiming to either calm himself or hide his inevitable breakdown.

----------

Y/N

“Finish up downstairs.” Nodding affirmatively, you picked up the mop bucket and eagerly headed beneath deck, having to consciously slow down to avoid suspicion. You were glad you were disguised in the uniform of Marlowe’s crew instead of the rags of the common sailors aboard; it would’ve made the job much harder than it had to be.

Keeping a level head, you walked past the cell holding your family and placed the mop bucket against the wall, scanning the deck.

Empty.

Sighing in relief, you realised that you were alone with your crew at last. As you pulled the covering off of your face, you shushed frantically, the cell almost erupting into cheers. You gestured for them to part, eyeing Edward, almost balled up in the corner of the cell. “Hey, Ed,” you whispered, watching as his head snapped up to you, eyes widening.

Scrambling up, he strode to the bars in a second, reaching through the gaps to hold you. “Thank Christ…” he exhaled in relief, bringing your forehead to his lips between the bars. You pulled away after a few moments, sharing relieved glances. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?” he asked, eyes scanning you for any sign of injuries.

“No, no, I’m okay. Are you alright? Did we lose anyone?”

“I’m... fine; I haven’t done a head count yet.”

You didn’t reply, watching as Jonah came up to tap Edward on the shoulder. “Capt’n?”

He turned around, withdrawing his hands as Ryan came into view. “I can’t find my da’.” His voice was barely stable, cheeks stained with tear tracks. For a second, you both exchanged sorrowful glances.

Edward crouched down, ruffling his hair. “He’ll be around, lad. We just have to find him. Maybe he’s escaped and is planning his own rescue mission for us.”

Ryan nodded, wanting to believe him. Meanwhile, Edward stood and brought Jonah close, leaning to whisper in his ear. He withdrew, a willing but uncertain look on his face. Both retreated back into the small crowd.

“What did you tell him?” you asked.

“...That he has to look after Ryan now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to stave off tears. “Shit.”

His fingers gently grazed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright? Does Marlowe know you’re here?”

Frowning, you shook your head. “I wouldn’t have thought so; if he did, I’d be stuck in there with you.”

His expression was nearly unreadable, but you could sense his anxiety. “I saw him come from here a few moments ago. What was he saying?”

“He…” Pausing for a moment, Edward swallowed. “Just Templar bullshit.”

You scoffed at the notion. “Of course he did. Look, I know how to get out of this.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.” Although his tone was sarcastic, you could tell that for the first time, he didn’t know what to do.

“He needs to die.”

Edward froze, brows narrowing, realising your intention. “No, Y/N, no.”

“‘No’ was an option in Nassau, but we don’t have that choice--”

“No, there must be another way -- “

“There is no other way! This is our only chance--”

“Are you hearing me?! He--”

“Do you understand the situation we’re in?!”

“No, Y/N, please--”

“All it takes is--”

“Just LISTEN to me!” He hissed through gritted teeth, grasping your arm to give it a sharp shake to stop you talking over him. The shock threw you into silence. Lowering his voice, he continued. “If you make so much as one mistake, he won’t just kill you; he’ll make you wish you were dead. Please, please, don’t do this.”

You were stunned. You’ve never seen him so adamant about staying your blade. The desperation in his tone threw you off; you’ve never heard him this serious -- this frantic -- before.

Edward grabbed one of your hands in both of his, bringing your knuckles to rest against his lips. “I love you… with everything I have; I can’t lose you. Not if I can help it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Your heart broke as you watched a tear escape, trailing down his skin.

“Okay, okay.” You rarely saw Edward cry, and when you did, it was usually due to either drinking or laughing. He took a small, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

“We wait for Adé. Then we’ll think about Marlowe.”

“Alright, okay. Hey...” you caressed his jaw. “I’m okay. We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

You heard ruckus above the deck. “Someone’s coming.” Both of you broke away like shrapnel, Edward sitting himself on the floor while you mopped, facing the wall.

And that was how things were.

----------

A couple of weeks had passed since the crew was abducted from the Jackdaw. Everyone had been forced to labour on the deck, doing various jobs, from scrubbing floors to adjusting sails to everything in between. Adé was nowhere to be seen; whether he was hidden on deck and still strategising, or God forbid, something worse, you didn’t know.

A few didn’t make it.

Keeping your identity hidden was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on, of both being a woman and lover of the imprisoned Captain. You had, however, been able to gather intel of Marlowe from the crew that despised him. Each day further validated your belief that this man would be much better off dead; the crew have no loyalty except out of fear, and you could work with that.

You understood Edward’s fear, but it would be selfish of you to stand back and not do anything, watching as almost everyone on the ship suffered; if you did nothing, you would regret it for the rest of your days.

One particular morning was extremely hot, extremely dry, and extremely labour intensive. You were almost halfway through your journey, and you knew you were running out of time. Something had to happen, and soon, or you would never make it to the end of the year.

----------

Edward

After the first week, the crew joined the common sailors around the ship, performing average labour over hours. There was barely time to rest, eat, or drink; he could tell that this was wearing him down more than any form of torture.

The sun’s rays beat down on the nape of his neck as midday approached. Orders were to scrub the floor. He had a brush in his hand the size of a polishing brush, sharing a bucket with four other members of his crew. Each time he made eye contact with one of them, he’d give them a reassuring look; they’d all get out of this, he just needed a plan.

Doors were haphazardly flung open, Marlowe revealing himself from his cabin, followed by an entourage of his closest crew. They clumsily made their way across the ship, bumping into those scrubbing the deck, only to send them a look as if it was their fault in the first place.

One of them knocked over a bucket of water, spilling the liquid across the wood. Edward looked up to observe the situation. It belonged to his crew, including Jonah and Ryan. Marlowe stopped, his stare set on the ones kneeling, completely ignoring the real culprit. “You.” He crooked his finger towards Ryan. “Get up.”

With a petrified look on his face, Ryan stumbled to his feet, shaking like a leaf. “It wasn’t--”

Marlowe put his hand up, a warning to shut up. “It was your bucket, was it not?”

“Y-Yes, but--”

“So it was your responsibility, correct?”

“W-Well--”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, boy.”

“... Yes, sir.”

Marlowe turned to call to his second in command. “Get the cat.”

Edward’s heart stopped. By now, the ship had dropped to complete silence. They wouldn’t… he was only a boy. Marlowe was sadistic, but he wouldn’t be that evil, would he?

Before he could stop himself, Edward found himself standing protectively in front of Ryan. The child gripped onto his sleeve as he was pushed behind his Captain by the arm. “Why don’t you give a punishment to someone who deserves it?”

Marlowe held a neutral expression. “You’re right…” With a wave of his hand, arms snaked themselves around Edward’s, pulling him away from the others, restraining his movements.

Edward’s eyes flitted to Ryan for a split second; he was pulled to sit beside Jonah before he gained any more unwanted attention. Marlowe came to stand in front of him, unpinning his cape from around his shoulders. It fell into someone’s arms, who carried it away. Although his limbs were pulled harshly behind him, he held his head high, a hard expression in his eyes.

Undoing his cuffs, Marlowe smirked. “I believe you deserve twenty, in place of that boy…” Without warning, a fist came into contact with Edward’s sternum. If it weren’t for the arms holding him upright, the force would have sent his knees buckling. As he regained his breath, he glared at Marlowe. “Another twenty is in order for disobedience…” Another strike winded him again, this one seemingly worse than before. Keeled over, hair blocking his vision, he almost didn’t notice Marlowe leaning into his ear. “Then, about as many as I deem fit…”

Standing up straight, he shook out his hand. “Get him ready.”

Edward stumbled as he was half-dragged across the deck to the main mast. His chest and face collided with the post, the wood almost burning his skin. His arms were pulled taut above his head, rope quickly entwining itself around his wrists. He gave them an experimental tug, his heart skipping a beat when he found not even an inch of give.

Oh, fuck.

Hands gripped the back of his shirt, swiftly tearing it open. His muscles tensed as the sunlight hit his skin. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself with a breath.

The first strike licked his skin, the force shoving him against the post, ripping open stripes of flesh. Pain shot across his back. Biting a back a groan, Edward clenched his jaw. Sweat trailed down his temples, arms straining against the ropes.

Resting his forehead against the post, he prepared for the next lash.

But the strike never came.

----------

Y/N

Ooh, boy.

You were shocked at yourself for a moment, your hand firmly wrapped around Marlowe’s extended wrist, the cat of nine tails trickling Edward’s blood onto the back of your hand.

“I demand satisfaction.”

Gasps and muttering littered the crowd, and you kept to yourself the true realisation of what you’ve done.

You’ve challenged Marlowe to a duel.

“Don’t…” Edward looked over his shoulder, voice loud enough for only you to hear.

You spared him a side glance, urging him to quiet down.

Instead of the expected anger, Marlowe chuckled. “Alright; who demands it?”

You pulled off your face covering and hat, the sun hitting the skin on your face fully for the first time in two weeks. “Naturally, me.”

He hummed darkly, eyes narrowing with recognition. “Naturally.” He began to unsheathe his sword.

“I thought you were a man of tradition; are pistols not your forte?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

After a prolonged glance, metal clicked back into its leather hold. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“... Let’s get this over with.”

Your heart pounded. This was such a stupid move.

But it was also your only move.

Hiding your own fear, you held eye contact with Marlowe. With trembling fingers, you drew your own pistol, gifted to you by Edward from your last birthday. It was very much your lucky charm, and you hoped it wouldn’t fail you now.

“Ten paces, on my count.” You had no idea who the voice belonged to, nor did you have the current emotional capacity to care. Pulling the hammer down on your pistol, you turned your back to Marlowe. A blank was fired, the echoing shot a signal to start moving.

1…

2…

3...

It was almost deadly quiet.

4…

5…

6…

This was stupid, this was a bad idea. You won’t make it.

7…

8--

An unexpected shot rang out. You dropped to the floor, a pain beginning to blossom in your side.

“NO!”

Marlowe had cheated. Internally, you scoffed. Of course he did.

Although it stung, you were surprised at how bearable the pain was, given you just got shot.

Or did you?

You lay still, partly in shock and partly to plan what to do next.

“What are you all looking at? Get back to work!”

“Y/N? Y/N/N!” You heard Edward’s voice crack. “You cheating bastard!”

“Now, now, Kenway. Don’t forget the position you’re in.”

Floorboards creaked as someone approached. Pistol miraculously still in hand, you waited for as long as possible. Just a little longer....

A shadow shaded your face from the sun. Without thinking, you turned, aimed, and shot.

Marlowe stared back, glassy eyed, blood trickling down his nose.

A moment later, he collapsed.

No one dared to move, choosing to stare at the body in front of them, not quite believing that he was dead.

The monster of a man was dead.

After the adrenaline ebbed away, you sighed heavily. “Glad that’s over.” A hand came into view, offering assistance to stand up. You locked eyes with someone who should have made himself known a long time ago. “Adé!” Accepting the help, you smirked. “Great timing.”

You quickly moved to Edward to begin untying the knots around his wrists. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he exclaimed, exertion clear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you--”

“Worrying me?” One wrist freed, he deftly moved to the other. “When I saw you lying there, I felt as if I had died!”

You sighed. “I needed to do something, lest you became more bone than back.”

“That was the most stupid plan I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hands free, he paid no heed to his own wounds and immediately tried to inspect yours. “You were so irresponsible--”

Bringing his face to yours, you stopped him talking with a kiss.

He diffused immediately, finally processing that you were in front of him, alive, and Marlowe was the one dead on the floor. Melting into you, the tension in his muscles dissipated, replaced only with relief. He broke apart from you, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“If the plan worked, it couldn’t have been that stupid,” you remarked.

“I’m so sorry.” His words were mumbled into your shoulder.

“You were looking out for me; I would have done the same if the roles were reversed.” You hugged him back, recoiling when he suddenly flinched in pain. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“Shall we just accept each other’s apologies and call it a day?”

You laughed. “That would be good.”

Turning to the hands on deck, you raised your pistol in the air. “It’s over, lads! We can go home!”

You held your side, the pain greatly subsided under the amount of other emotions you were feeling; joy, relief, but also grief. Not for Marlowe, but for the ones that didn’t see this day.

You made a vow there and then; a vow to live your life the way they would have lived.

With joyful, carefree fun.

With the ability to live in the moment.

With gratitude for what you still have that they lost: For some, love, and for others, life.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed x f!reader #edward kenway x reader #edward kenway x f!reader #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed oneshot #edward kenway imagine #edward kenway oneshot

159 notes · View notes