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prolix-yuy · 2 years

Note

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard.

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation.

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?”

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways.

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery.

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?”

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop.

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor.

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches.

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here?

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make.

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.”

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth.

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips.

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves.

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing.

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed.

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt.

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit.

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again.

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you.

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?”

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust.

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows.

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.”

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms.

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.”

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face.

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes.

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth.

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you.

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely.

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go.

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do.

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

#jack whiskey daniels x reader x marcus pike #marcus pike x reader x jack whiskey daniels #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #whiskey x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #prolix fics

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mlmxreader · 10 months

Text

Securing Reservations | Billy Butcher x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ heyyy bud, is me Aldo on a brand new blog and I have a request :]

If you could write the prompt "Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard! You fucking bastard!" Whit Billy Butcher from the boys and an m!reader I would absolutely adore that!

Like maybe getting kicked out of a restaurant somehow or just him arguing whit somebody about restaurant reservations, also some soothing from the reader afterwards, anything unhinged and possibly gore-y is welcomed :]

Have a nice night too! - @slutordo ❞

: ̗̀➛ getting reservations for swank restaurants is a ball ache, but when it comes to you, Butcher is at least willing to try... however that looks.

: ̗̀➛ eyeball gore, gore, fighting, swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Billy had decided a while ago that Sundays would be your date nights, as usually, there wasn’t much going on those days and it tended to be a lot quieter than normal; you both took turns planning where you would go and when, and while his ideas were often relatively small and intimate, yours weren’t exactly huge and extravagant either.

The biggest thing that the two of you ever did for date night was when you had had the idea of going into the city centre to check out the holiday markets that were littered along the high street; stalls adorned with various cheeses and chocolates and beers, clothing and jewellery, different little trinkets as well as every form of media from old school vinyls to blu-ray DVDs.

Billy wasn’t huge on the big and flashy, the lavish and luxurious; a pint down the pub and a takeaway chip shop meal would do just fine and he could grin and brag about it for the next week.

Yet, he knew that you deserved better than that; he scrimped and saved and skimped whatever he could, knowing that you deserved better than a pint down the pub and some shit Chinese takeaway.

He was trying his best, for fuck’s sake.

It was Saturday night, when Billy found a fancy restaurant that was taking cash reservations, but there were only a select few left, and the queue consisted of him and some fucking Vought cunt who proudly wore the company’s name on his briefcase beside his full name - Sean Patrick Bale; Billy clenched his jaw, eyeing him up.

He was muscular in build, but the type of muscle that was lended more to starvation and constant exercise rather than actual strength; neatly styled dark brown hair that came down to his white shirt collar; hazel eyes that were full of malice and contempt.

He wore a long black coat that went down to his calves, designer black shoes, designer black blazer, designer black trousers. Designer white shirt. Designer red tie with a subtle white pattern.

Billy knew the type, shallow and all shout flaunting Daddy’s money; he knew the type, middle class White men from suburbia who got into the big business because Daddy got him a high position job.

The type of cunt who went to that type of restaurant frequently; clearing his throat, Billy dared to approach, tapping him on the shoulder as he smiled falsely.

“Sean!” He hoped he sounded friendly enough as he leaned back slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Sean looked disgusted, sneering at Billy as he scoffed. “Who are you?”

Billy grinned, licking his lips. “Y’know, Donald! From accounting!”

Sean rolled his eyes, he never much cared about those on the floors beneath his office, so he sighed, and upon realising there were other people around, forced himself to smile. “Right! How could I ever forget! I’m so sorry, Donald! What are you doing here?”

Gotcha. Billy did his best not to laugh as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, smiling. “Well, I was just gonna book a reservation for me and my… partner.”

Don’t be too obvious, Butcher. He knew what Sean was like, the contempt held for anyone different. He had to watch his fucking mouth, but Sean merely shrugged as he nodded slowly.

“What a coincidence,” Sean hummed. “So am I.”

“Tell you what,” Billy hummed, taking a quick look around. “Why don’t we got a smoke, eh? Only us two here, anyway.”

Sean was apprehensive, but shrugged as he followed Billy into the alleyway; the fucking cunt kept muttering under his breath about how much he hated to spend time with underlings, and once the two were well out of earshot and eyesight, Sean sneered at Billy once again.

“Look, man, I’m not in any position to fucking promote scum like you,” he started, “and I’m certainly not going to fucking promote someone who dresses like he hasn’t seen an iron in years… do you even summer outside of the State? No. You’re just a-”

Billy didn’t hesitate, grabbing the back of Sean’s head and slamming it against the nearest wall; the bloody imprint stayed there as Billy dragged Sean’s face up and down the harsh bricks, slowly grating away the sloughing skin right down to the muscle.

But Billy wasn’t done, putting Sean on the floor and straddling his waist; he brought his fist up, slamming it down against his face again and again and again until he could hear the crunch of teeth falling from gums. The grinding of bone.

But the cunt was still breathing, so Billy pulled the knife from his back pocket, and shoved the blade into Sean’s eye; he could feel it pop as it deflated upon the blade, blood and fluid spurting as he dragged the knife out before slamming it into the other eye. He grinned as the blood spat upon his face.

“Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now you fucking stupid bastard!” Billy howled, plunging the knife into Sean’s throat and dragging it down to his sternum. “You fucking bastard!”

Panting heavily, Billy got up, and wiped the blood from his face on the back of his leather jacket before he went back to the restaurant; the only one in the queue, he managed to get the very last one available, and relief crashed over him like wildfire as he smiled calmly.

He checked his phone, and nearly grinned when he realised that he had a text from you asking to meet at the end of the street; a slight skip in his step, he was surprised when you prevented him from hugging you, tilting his head and furrowing his brows.

“What’d I do?”

You gestured to the wet patch on his leather jacket, daring to smile a little. “Care to explain?”

Billy shrugged, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to you. “Nothin’ really, just some cunt from Vought got in me way.”

“Billy,” you gently took his hand, examining his knuckles. “Look at your hand, love.”

He did as told, his gaze dropping to his knuckles for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak; but he knew that you were already a step ahead, as usual and as always, so he just raised his brow slightly, and frowned. “What?”

“I appreciate what you did,” you said soothingly, shaking your head before pressing a kiss to his bloodied and bruised knuckles. “But you don’t have to get violent, y’know. I would’ve been okay to have gone anywhere else.”

Billy scoffed, taking a step back as he lit up the two cigarettes. “Would you, though?”

You nodded, taking a long drag as you hummed. “Bills, as long as I’m with you, I’m happy to be and do whatever the fuck. I do not give a pig’s tit, as long as I’m with you.”

“I got the reservation.”

You grinned, doing your best not to laugh as you shook your head so fondly. “Fuck’s sake… you’re a nightmare, y’know, my favourite fucking nightmare.”

At that, Billy grinned. He knew that he had done right by you, and if he was honest?

The fight had taken a lot of the frustrations of the week from him as well; he was just about ready to take you home, to spend the night doing whatever you liked, and then getting to bed quite early.

He wasn’t so tense about everything, and he wasn’t so on edge either. But then he looked into your eyes, and even more of that tension dropped as he gently reached for your hand and held it rather tightly; not enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough that you would know he was actually listening, and that he did actually want you to open your mouth.

“You’re too good for me,” he told you. “Y’know that, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes at the remark. “Billy. I’m your boyfriend. As far as I’m concerned? We’re good enough for each other as long as we’re happy.”

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lilyrachelcassidy · 2 years

Note

ohh hi!💕 Happy early Halloween🥰🥰 ok I have an idea for a short Tommy Shelby x reader prompt and I'm gonna try to keep it to one sentence!! It would be where it's Halloween and Tommy and Reader just got married and are watching Finn (who's like 11 or it could be one of their or johns kids) and they are carving pumpkins and while the reader steps out of the room, like Finn decides to stick his head in the pumpkin and put it on like a mask to try and scare Tommy and then it gets stuck and then the couple has to try and get it off before Polly gets home😂 and yeah. It's a really run on sentence and if you don't want to do it you don't have to but it's an idea!!!❤️ Have a great day!!!!!

A/N: HAPPY EARLY HALLOWEEN:D Okay, so first of all, anon, your creativity galloped in a very distinct territory which I LOVE, it made me grin so much:D I had so much fun writing that, thank you for requesting, you're the sweetest<3

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: language but nothing else, really

xoxoxoxox

"So what now? What do we do?" pressed Finn for what felt like a thousandth time this evening. Both you and Tommy mentally groaned, suddenly upbraiding yourself for taking the charge of Finn in the first place. How had it happened or when had it happened when you had agreed upon that, you weren't sure. Perhaps Polly coerced you to do that, was that it? For a woman that sophisticated and swank, she could be a real menace sometimes, using her topmost skills of blandishment to attain her goals.

That's what she did now, leaving neither you nor Tommy satisfied with such a twist.

"For fuck's sake, Finn!" Tommy snapped at his younger brother, his flash of temper finally giving in. He had been settled right next to you, but upon hearing the bored words, he made an aggressive leap. "Could you shut up, please? I hav' enough of your whines."

"What? I'm just saying that-"

"-you're bored! Yes, I've heard the first time, thank you very much," said Tommy in a belligerent voice, apparently doing his best to tame his nerves. Slowly, you put your hand on his thing, squeezing it three times in a form of placation. That seemed to work because Tommy's tensed body loosened up a little. "Have to go to the loo."

And then, he dashed to a distinct part of the house, vanishing from your sight.

"You're so different from him, you know," said Finn finally, making you glance at him with your eyebrow hoisted.

"What do you mean?"

"You're much more fun. Not so stuck-up as him." He gave you a significant look of what you presumed, or he presumed, was understanding.

You bit your lip slightly, amused by this little boy's perception of the world. "He's not as stuck-up as you may think. Just a little... uptight, I guess."

You hadn't suspected it but your reply had rendered Finn momentarily silent which you hadn't known was possible. He was calculating something in his head, it seemed. You weren't yet certain whether that was a good sign.

"Maybe we should make him less uptight then." He hadn't asked, he was stating that matter-of-factly - another red flag. And with a little smile suddenly painting on his lips, the candlelight flickering somewhere in the background, he looked like a real child of devil upraised. Especially with his eyes scintillating with impish sparkles, you were sure that something in terms of mischievous had just played out in his mind.

"Finn, what do you want to-"

But before you were able to finish the sentence, Finn sprang up to his feet and at the speed of light, scurried over to the Halloween pumpkin laid on the table. He grabbed it in his small hands, brandishing it, and then leveled it with his head.

"How would I look?" he asked, stupidly. The pumpkin had carvings in the shape of a face with grisly teeth; the entire mush from the insides was completely voided, and there was a big hole found at the bottom of it. “I have an idea. I’m gonna scare Tommy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide-”

“Oh, come on, it’s Halloween after all!” he wailed, and without waiting for any extended permission, he laboriously put his head to the inside of the very pumpkin. “See? Fun.”

You only sighed, shaking your head. So children were dense after all. “Please, could you remove that?” Meeting with a striking silence from your interlocutor, you pressed on with a slight idea of a bribe planted in your head. “If you do, I’ll fetch some ice cream for us.”

“Ice cream?!” Well, that seemed to work like a charm. In the next instant, Finn with a joyful leap was already pulling at the pumpkin, slightly writhing his head. Pulling and pulling, but... “I can’t get it off!” screamed Finn, his jovial fettle morphing abruptly into a panicked howl.

“What do you mean you can’t get it off?” you asked, fully taken off guard by that. Your eyes bulged slightly in astonishment.

“I can’t get it off! I can’t get it fucking off!”

“Finn! There’s no need for expletives! Calm down I-”

“I’ve heard screams. What-” Tommy had just re-entered the room, his sentence hanging aloft, and was now watching a whole scene with the horror of a person who had just witnessed a fiendish crime scene. Or, in this case, his agitated girlfriend and a little brother who had a big-ass pumpkin stuck on his head. “What the fuck has happened?!”

“Tommy! Watch your lang-”

“I can’t get it off! I can’t get it off!” bawled Finn, in a full display of dread. He was still tugging on the pumpkin but in vain.

“How has that...?!”

“Okay, everybody, calm down!” With one last roar, you quelled the rest and, at once feeling very in charge, tried to spread your oddly stoic aura on the two of them. “Tommy - go fix some oil. Fin - sit over here.”

Accordingly, Tommy spurted to the kitchen with your dictations buried in mind and you, on the other, grabbed a wooden stool and instructed Finn to sit on it which he submissively did.

“Okay, Finn, so here’s what we’re going to do - I’m going to lubricate the area where the pumpkin is stuck so that we get better chances of slipping it through. Tommy’s going to pull. Your only task is to relax and tightly hold on to the stool. Clear?”

He merely nodded his head which looked extremely comical, hadn’t it been for this little boy’s fright. Though you wanted to laugh so badly, you refrained yourself, bearing in mind that it probably would have been tactless if you did.

“Why can’t we destroy the pumpkin?”

“Because...” you started, vaguely annoyed. “That would require certain tools, Finn. Tools like a hammer or a knife that could harm you, you know. That’s why.”

Soon, Tommy was hurrying into the room with a sour mien.

“I have only found...” He raised a bottle with the eye line to read the fluorescent label. “‘Boscoli Dirty Martini Olive Juice’ in the kitchen. No oil, no butter in this house.”

“What the-” You squeezed your eyes in irritation and snapped the bottle from his hand in a very passive-aggressive mode. “Gosh, I hope only Polly doesn’t find out.”

Quickly extracting the bottle cap, you poured some liquid on your fingers, a particularly slick and stinky consistency that was, and began rubbing it in around his neck while Tommy forcefully hauled the pumpkin with both hands. Within two long-lasting minutes, Finn was ultimately freed from the menacing tethers of the Halloween pumpkin.

So happy with his release, Finn was grinning like a madman at you and Tommy, and you had to fight the sudden urge to wipe his stupid smile off by plunking a pumpkin over his head yet again.

“Go wash yourself, please. We don’t want you to smell like Margarita mixed with oil when Polly comes home,” you said, sternly, gazing at him with exasperation in your eyes; all your nerves were fraying. Now it was Tommy’s turn to squeeze your arm in a mollifying manner. It didn’t help. “And then you will go to sleep.”

“What about that ice cream?” asked Finn, incredulously, with a pout. You wished to slap him. So badly.

“Just...” You raised your voice but quickly realized - it was going to be over soon, that baby-sitting torment; plus, after Finn falls asleep you can do whatever you desire with Tommy who was likely very grateful for staying collected during his little brother’s foolishness. You pursed your lips, then forced a fake, stiff smile. “Just go.”

With a groan, he did, and you were sure that was a night you wouldn’t forget for a long time.

xoxoxoxox

A/N: ‘Boscoli Dirty Martini Olive Juice’ mhm... has anyone ever tired? oddly good, i just had to add lol. Have a great day, and if you want to send over some Spooktober requests, I’m opened for it all;D Anon, I hope you liked that bit!:)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x y/n #Thomas shelby #Tommy shelby #spooktober #spooktobercelebration!#peaky blinders #Finn shelby

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saorling · 2 years

Text

[Secret Santa] Holiday date

Fandom: Paradox Live

Characters: Sugasano Allen x Reader

Word count: 1508

Summary: It was practically common knowledge by now that, to Allen, music was everything. He breathed it and lived it, so it came as no surprise to anyone that his date — the first actual date — involved a tour around the recording studio.

Genres: Fluff

Notes: It might be a bit lackluster due to the time pressure, but I hope it’s not too OOC. c”:

It was practically common knowledge by now that, to Allen, music was everything. He breathed it and lived it, so it came as no surprise to anyone that his date — the first actual date — involved a tour around the recording studio. Hajun and Anne provided some suggestions, of course, but none of them truly stuck with him. Fancy restaurants weren’t exactly his style, and street concerts, according to Anne, weren’t the best spot for a romantic get-to-know-you-better evening. “And that would be no different from your usual dates”, they pointed out after Allen tried to defend his case. Well, it wasn’t like every one of his dates involved concerts… just a lot of them, probably. Anne had a point. Allen himself knew that this date had to be special for several reasons: first, it was holiday period, and he got thoroughly taught about the importance of those. Second, it was almost half a year since they started dating, so it would make sense to do something different and, perhaps, share more of himself with his partner. This logic, after some more discussion, inevitably led to the idea of a recording studio date. “Well, all should be good since Allen’s lover is, after all, one of BAE’s heads”, Anne concluded as they helped pick the outfit for the occasion. Surely, it was nice to surprise the other party from time to time.

Since the recording studio was closer to BAE’s place than yours — for obvious reasons — you and your boyfriend decided to meet at his place. Allen suggested escorting you at first, but you didn’t mind a little walk, and insisted that it would be a better idea for you to come and for him to wait. Having a little walk could help and calm your nerves, among other things. A prospect of visiting BAE’s home was one of the reason’s, of course, but the bigger cause for worry was the present you have prepared for Allen. It wasn’t difficult to think of a theme for a present, but it was much more difficult to think of a proper gift that would be both practical and fairly unique. You even went as far as consulting Anne and Hajun to confirm that none of you would end up giving the same Christmas present. Still, there was a part of you that wasn’t entirely sure about whether or not he would like the gift or even need it… no, no. You shook your head, chasing the unnecessary doubts away. You clearly remembered Allen telling that his old headphones weren’t working properly at times but, given how much Allen loved them, it seemed unlikely that he would replace them before they break completely. So, you took extra care to find a new pair that would resemble his current headset as much as possible. ‘It should be okay’, you sighed, and knocked on the door of the flat you have arrived at. The answer was almost immediate. However, it was not Allen who opened the door, but anZ themselves. “Allen, your sweetheart is here!” they shouted into the room and, apparently happy with the sound of a small commotion and hurried footsteps, turned to you with a grin. “Hello, please come in. Allen will be here soon.” Anne didn’t offer a seat or a drink, as they knew you wouldn’t stay here for long, and leave to finish their work for SWANK, probably sparing you the awkwardness of trying to make small talk. Thankfully, Allen did not take much time as promised, and soon came out of his room, wrapping you in a quick hug. “Hello, Allen”, you greeted him with a smile as you lightly tugged on the strap of your bag. “Hi”, he replied in kind, and practically beamed at you, “sorry for the wait. Let’s go?” He gave you a hand, and you readily took it as you departed to your main destination.

“I hope you didn’t have to wait long,” Allen half-asked and half-said, rubbing his neck. You recognized this gesture as him being nervous, and chuckled. At times like this, he was especially adorable and, were it not for the occasion, you would have enjoyed teasing him. Just a little bit, though. “Not at all. I look forward to seeing the recording studio”, your interest was genuine, and, apparently, as much was reflected on your face, instantly chasing away any uncertainties your boyfriend might have had about your date. Instead, he entered what you have called his “engaged mode”. “I really hope you like it! It’s really amazing. We do most of our recordings here, and some of the mixing as well!” The whole trip, essentially, became a mini-lecture. You didn’t mind it even a bit, though — you were happy to listen to anything Allen had to share about his interests. His excitement was contagious, and, besides, you loved seeing him enjoying himself. The lecture and your attentiveness paid off when you stepped into the studio — you didn’t know if it could be considered a big or a small one, but you could swear that you never saw so much equipment gathered in one place. There was what Allen called a workstation, filled with keyboards and what seemed to be a dozen of controllers: digital audio workstation, audio interfaces, mics, displays, studio monitors… Allen listed them one-by-one, as you listened and observed in awe. Did he really understand and was able to differentiate all of those? It seemed truly incredible that he could navigate such technology that seemed, without exaggeration, alien to you. “You can operate it all on your own? That’s amazing, Allen! You’re a genius,” as you watched him toggle some switches, turn some of the buttons with such speed and precision, it suddenly came to you that, although he probably had done it dozens of times, the amount of work he did for mixing the beats and making even one of your beloved tracks was enormous. ‘Truly magical.’ “A-ah, you think so? I put a lot of work in it, so I’m happy you think of it as something cool”, and here it was, partial nervousness and the slightest trace of being shy — Allen rarely took compliments well, especially when it came to his obsessions that some could deem boring or too much. “Because it is cool,” you assured him with another smile of yours. With the initial tour finished, you seemed it was a good moment to give him your present, however— “Do you want to try it?” The sudden question startled you more than you would have expected. “Try what?” “Recording a song,” a pause, “with me.” “Mm, but I don’t sing as well as you do, you know,” this time, it was your turn to feel nervous. You were by no means a professional and, although you enjoyed singing and humming songs to yourself, you never thought of singing a song with Allen, let alone recording it. “Does it matter? Come on, it will be fun!” he took your hand in his, eyes filled with silent request. He really wanted to do it, it seemed. And… it was really hard to reject this gaze and that adorable puppy face. “Ah! I almost forgot—” Before you could give him your reply, though, Allen sprung up from the chair he was sitting on and inspected the pockets of his jacket until he found a folded paper that immediately went into your hands. “Here, the lyrics. I hope that you like them,” he let out a long breath — you didn’t even realize he held it — and fiddled with the now empty pockets as you were left to read the song. And, the more you read, the more surprised you became. “Allen, is this… a love song?” “Y… yes”, he sighed and smiled with the corners of his lips. “I had some help from Anne and Hajun. Mostly Anne, though, because Hajun wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. Do you like it?” Instead of replying, you gave him a big, soft hug as you nuzzled into his chest. “I do. I absolutely love it, Allen.” As you backed away, you noticed the bright red spread on Allen’s cheeks and tips of his ears. It made you chuckle, and didn’t try to hide it too much. You knew Allen wouldn’t mind you having a little fun at the sight. He never did. “Will you sing it with me, then?” and, once again, that puppy gaze returned. This time, however, you didn’t make him wait for the answer. “I will.”

As you learned later, the instrumentals were also made by Allen, and the piano part was played by him, too. You were worried that your vocals wouldn’t match with the music or Allen’s voice, but your man could certainly work his magic, and not only you ended up enjoying yourself, the finished result sounded so soft and affectionate you couldn’t help but grin every time you listened to it. And Allen really loved your present as well.

#paradox live #allen sugasano #yumejoshi #allen sugasano x reader #tzago's writing

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firewalkzwit · 1 year

Text

runt // jonathan crane x reader. (20)

Chapter 20

cross-posted on AO3

masterlist.

Either she'd been lying, or she was painfully unaware, but Bruce was more inclined to believe the latter.

He was never impulsive, he was in fact as obsessive as possible. Hardly any details skipped Bruce's attention, even those that intended to be overlooked by him. He had a highly trained and perceptive ability to listen with a care that most people cannot give to the most precious things in their lives. Despite this, seeing and talking to Y/N diminished his capacities, and he felt like a scared little Bruce was watching his dead parents, except he was Joe Chill and the gun that shot them dead was in his hands. Obviously the dramatisation of these emotions on something as trivial as dinner was triggered by the sensitivity of the subject of being orphaned, and how to Y/N her brother was the only parent figure she had. He never intended to kill, and force getting out of hand is an inevitable consequence of his modus operandi, but Bruce was often subject to polarisation of his own emotions, which made him bound to feel extremely anxious at the mere sight of Y/N.

He felt like he had taken the only thing dear to her, even if it was not intentional. His eyes lingered on the sight of hers, which were distrustful yet sweet; human. She was gentle and curious, respectful but not invasively apologetic of her own presence. She didn't make him feel uncomfortable about being Bruce Wayne, at least not beyond the amount that actually being Bruce Wayne implied. Despite this, she was obviously dazed to be offered a job by the very owner of a massive corporation out of the blue. His ownership was merely inherited, for he took little to no accountability or part in the decision-making that concerned Wayne Enterprises, yet he was entitled to throw around job offers without consulting Lucius, such as he had done at that moment.

However, despite his internal pleas, she had declined his offer. He could tell she was sceptical yet unable to get a fix on the intentions behind his proposition. She knew nothing about Batman, like everyone else, and it reflected on the ingenuity of her kindness. She was too amicable and cordial to him to even be able to have the idea cross her mind. Bruce's mind occasionally fixated on the memory of his gloved hand softly caressing her cheek, and her surrendered body tightly against him as she melted into tears under his hold. He felt terribly ill of guilt, and once she had dinner with him and he was able to watch her smile, he felt it was only harmless to feel the desire to see her like that again.

The covet to possess her peace again so he could return it and clean his hands intensified by the minute, and it was only exacerbated by his obsessiveness when she rejected his offer, a matter of self-respect he assumed. He wished to release her from Scarecrow to release himself. He wished he had intended to kill her brother so he'd feel less guilt, and to be stripped from every ounce of humanity in his body so he could be liberated from his loathe.

But he knew not about the 44 Below, or her real relationship with Crane, or anything that she had been plotting against his masked self. He had refrained from investigating her enough to be ignorant on most of her affairs.

He only knew that she was a likely victim of Scarecrow's toxin, of which Batman still knew relatively little; Crane could seem naive to swank the existence of such toxin, yet not enough to expose its effects to the reach of the Batman yet. He knew Crane was saving the plan for later, purposely establishing its existence as a boastful warning of its danger, and to have a hold of Arkham's facilities would allow Batman likely access to the hiding spots of the Scarecrow.

If Y/N ever were to derail, he and Scarecrow were equally at fault for. He struggled to even convey the idea of her being a liar, the way in which she composed herself and lived prompted him with nothing but the sight of a runt surrendered to Crane's control. Batman is to always expect the worst in everyone, but his scepticism battled with the idea of him being to blame for her downfall, and he was often assaulted by the idea that her brother's death was likely to have facilitated Scarecrow's abuse. Crane had attacked her, and now she worked for him. He began to dwell on if she had even seen his face, given the fact that in their encounter at Falcone's warehouse, Crane had his burlap mask on his hand, once again bringing countless doubts on the capacities of his toxin. His mind continued to make presumptions of innocence in favour of Y/N, rather than accusatory, which was extremely abnormal behaviour on his behalf, on Batman's behalf.

The rest of the night prolonged itself on questions about her job as an intern in Arkham, which offered vague details on her claims of a nearly unimportant role, as well as her swift ability to dodge personal questions that seemed to make her profoundly uncomfortable. He didn't care about causing discomfort, for he was used to doing so even unintentionally, yet he was wary of not scaring her off either, as any presumptions of his oddities could potentially poison any opportunity of getting closer to her.

However as he had, in an odd choice of words, insinuated they should see eachother again, to see her nod awkwardly prompted a small ounce of relief. To filter himself into her life as Bruce would be practically impossible, but it could be an effective gateway to access a degree of information that could grant him ways to penetrate Dr. Cane and Falcone, as well as free her from them. And he yearned with particular intensity to see her smile again to feel an ounce of his guilt be released from his back.

As Y/N had finally made it home, and she was able to harp on her dinner with Bruce Wayne, the thought of it became increasingly bizarre and unreal. He had a particularly intense interest in her, one that couldn't be triggered simply by the kindness of the Fund which contributed to a university she had quit working for more than six months ago. It didn't add up, and even though she was initially tempted to accept, she felt she couldn't let her curiosity further deflect from her main objective, especially being as close as she was to finally completing it, and being liberated from her guilt of vengeance. Once the Batman was unmasked and exposed, it would be his ruin, and the only thing worse than dying is to live with the weight of a lifetime's punishment. If there was an afterlife, she was sure the punishment would prolong itself for the rest of eternity, yet the only thing she could be certain of resided in the existence of the living, and if she could make Batman's impossible during the waking realm, she would.

Curiosity continued to devour her intensely, and despite an increasing terror at the idea of Bruce Wayne becoming suspicious about Crane in Arkham, she trusted on his intelligence and the well-known fact that Crane was directly related to Falcone's business, and anything related to him was directly dangerous, even to the mega-wealthy. Falcone integrated a different type of socialite, but that didn't prevent him from being closely connected and sometimes even fond of many of the rich of Gotham, and she was no one to assume Bruce wasn't the exception. Yet she hoped he'd be intelligent enough to also know he wasn't the one to meddle with businesses that did not concern him, for if he was she would have found out already.

Whatever the reason behind his peculiar sudden interest for her was, she soothed herself before sleeping to believe that it had nothing to do with her involvement with questionably illegitimate work. While her position was now granted legitimacy, it was under corrupt acquisition. But her record and name were clean, so there was no reason to assume she just wasn't another victim of the system sucked into the whirlpool of never-ending corruption in every field of work in Gotham. She had settled on the decision to not tell Crane about her affairs regarding Bruce Wayne, for soon enough her bond with either was likely to be destroyed when the unmasking of Batman caused city-level mayhem.

She had no plans following the unmasking of the Bat, which caused her to linger on the thought of death often. She always expected that by some arrangement of the odds, her operation would end with her death. What God would think of as a punishment for her misdoings would end as her ultimate liberation of the weight of existence in a world where the only thing precious to her no longer existed. She wasn't particularly suicidal, on the contrary she had a lot of will to live, she just dreaded living the life she did. Perhaps in another life, or in a parallel timeline where her innocence and loved ones remained intact, she'd be more thrilled to watch time pass her by stagnant.

Her mind had a very abstract and non-linear trail of thought that often deflected back and forth into the same subjects, and she was occasionally brought back into the thought of Bruce Wayne. Despite the coarseness of his behaviour and demeanour, something about the harmony of his features allowed to soften his harshly introverted nature. He wasn't particularly talkative, yet he was short with words and didn't initiate dialogue, rather behaving like he was the one to ask questions and she was merely there to answer. He had nothing charming in his speech, and he seemed to even try to convey the opposite, in a subtle and non-invasive way, yet making no attempts of being palatable.

If it weren't for the bombardment of questions she was subject to, she could describe the personality of the millionaire to be even calming. The familiarity of his behaviour often even reminded her of Jonathan Crane. In his sweetest, most vulnerable moments, contrary to being aligned to any of the previously mentioned adjectives, he was simply subdued and passive. He didn't feel the need to make assertive comments or sarcastically deprecating observations, rather simply urged to be quiet. Quiet was his way of showing his respect, and it was directly bound to be tied to fondness. Their mutual fondness was bizarre, for it was not established, yet implied. None spoke on it, and she never called him by his first-name or he never said I love you, there was a simple understanding communicated through their gazes and silent staring into eachothers eyes, talking through the way words couldn't.

His blue eyes trembled only so slightly that it could be noticed if she stared into them long and attentively enough. Hers were more firm, but her gaze was softer, less intimidating. Both complemented themselves perfectly enough to create a harmony in their mutual fixation.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #batman #the batman #batman begins #nolanverse batman #batman x reader #cillian murphy

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effielovesapples · 6 months

Note

Hey Effie have u got any good Benny x courier fics or headcanons you're especially passionate about? Ive historically been more of a King guy myself but ur passion for this run over Marlboro carton has intrigued me...

SQUEEEEEEEEEE ok so im not as Nearly as much of a fic reader as i should be; ive been reading a lot but not a ton of fanfic (guilt). BUT I HAVE A COUPLE ONE SHOTS I THINK are really cute. not a ton of long fics because i balance 3-ish jobs and school BUT ILL GET THERE‼️ and i DO have some headcanons that i think are really fun. But i will boost some fics i really like :)

Why Don't You Do Right? - this one just has really fun dialogue i think!! fun dialogue/fun narration is so important to the stuff i read, i love when people just have a great Voice.

How He Finds Himself Without You - I was put onto this one by @cathartic-crypt :3 i love the dialogue, love the sort of heavy handed headcanon of aromantic Swank. Super super cute i had a lot of fun reading this

Vegas Lights - short and sweet. I think it lays down a really fun base for something more, but its also just something short that i think stands alone by itself and is really cute !

i definitely have some headcanons too, and if you or literally anybody wants my discord user and is like particularly passionate about talking about this stuff my user is effielovesapples; you guys are more than welcome to add me and talk to me!! ^7^ (i will probably edit this later to include headcanons / reply in the post to add stuff, im about to go to my job orientation!!)

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couriersevenfuckers · 6 years

Note

Okokok so uhhh what about touch starved reader who is in a relationship with swank (sugar daddy or not is up to you) and they really wanna be touchy and affectionate with him but they have never been with anyone who liked being touched so they don’t do anything but he notices that they always go to hold him or touch him and pull back dhakdhajhds if this is too much you can change it

@what-is-fanart-even Your man~

~ Courier Seven

You, realistically, knew that he wouldn’t mind. He was already pretty touchy, so why wouldn’t he be ok with cuddling? Or holding hands? Or just being generally affectionate? Of course he’d be ok with it! … Or would he? No one you’ve been with was ok with being cuddly. They all said you were clingy, and that they didn’t like it. Would Swank be the same way?

“Baby doll, what’s wrong? You’ve been standing there for a while now.” Swank’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you stammered for an explanation. He waited for an answer, but quickly realized that you probably didn’t have one. He chuckled and pulled you into a hug.

“Don’t worry darlin, I don’t always need an answer. But, I do have something to ask ya, and I would like one.” You hug him back, relishing in the feeling of being held, and look up at him and mutter a small “go ahead.” He smiles at you, enjoying the way you curl against him.

“Now, again, you don’t gotta give me answer, and I’d never force you to, but I would like one. You… You always seem to want to cuddle, or hold hands, or maybe hug me. But… you always pull away before ya do, and you always let me initiate the contact. If… if you don’t want me to touch you, or I ever make ya uncomfortable, Please doll. You gotta tell me. I’m no mind reader, alright? And I care about you, your comfort. I don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable. Understand, Doll?” if you weren’t blushing before, you were definitely blushing now. You take a deep breath and break away from Swank’s hug.

“I’ve… I’ve never been with someone who enjoyed being touched. If it was just me or their personal preference, I don’t know. And I guess… I guess that I projected that onto you too. I was just so used to it that I was worried I’d overstep boundaries.” You curl your arms around yourself, not meeting his eyes. This was personal, very personal and you were worried he’d hate you for it. Unrealistic, but still a worry. Swank was quiet for a few minutes which only increased your worry. You were about to start crying when he gently lifted your chin, and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You gasp and kiss him back just as gently. He chuckles when he pulls away, and begins to speak.

“I get it Doll. You were scared. But, with me, you don’t ever have to worry about that again, ok? I love you. A lot. If you wanna cuddle, just ask. Hell, don’t even ask, just plop down in my lap and I’ll happily cuddle you. I want you to feel loved. To be happy. And if that means I don’t get to touch you, then that’s fine. If It means that I get to cuddle you every chance I get, then great! All I really want from you, Darling, Is for you to be happy.” You laugh a little, fear of rejection gone, and hug Swank close. you nuzzle into his neck, saying

“If that’s all it takes, then be prepared to be cuddled often!” Swank laughs and squeezes you tight, happy to finally put your fears to rest.

#Anonymous #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout swank #swank #fallout new vegas swank #swank x reader #sugar daddy boyfriend #touched starved reader #writing #drabble #ok #a lil over 500 words #but still close enough to be considered a drabble!

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

A Starting Point

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT! Read at your own risk.

SMUT, angst, old inns, the south, work relationship, pining, drinking, Baecation/smutcation, chocolates, innuendo, oral (m/f receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, Daddy kink if you squint. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is for @fineanddandy ‘s 1K Challenge #fineanddandy1Kchallenge. I hope you like it!

—————-

Chris had big plans for you. In his head.

This trip could be the start of something big, if you’d let it.

You were the new Director of Diversity and Inclusion at A Starting Point. You were a highly skilled professional.

And Chris was in love with you.

In the last three months, you captivated him with your intelligence and beauty. You were such a professional that he couldn’t be sure that you felt the same way. He felt a connection, but he needed to be sure.

You were in charge of this trip. You wanted to engage Black political leaders in the south, so you’d asked around and found out about The Grove Park Inn.

It was a premier historic resort built on the side of a mountain in Asheville, North Carolina, with a spectacular view of the Blue Ridge Mountains, with a world class gold course, a high end spa, and selection of restaurants.

You were wary, because it was the south, but excited to break down any barriers that might be there. This summit would bring hundreds of Black people to the hotel. You were hyped.

You and Chris arrived ahead of the leaders by a day and a half. You wanted to scope the place out. You gasped as you pulled up.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Chris was marveling as well. It was evening, and the place was lit up. It was all stone, almost as if a giant’s child had made a castle out of rocks.

You entered the lobby and it was huge, like a mountain lodge on steroids. There was a huge fireplace that was taller than Chris and at least 15 feet long. There were also dueling pianos at the lobby bar.

You walked through the lobby to the back and saw the view. It was breathtaking. Chris watched you watch the evening sky. Beautiful.

In the three months you’d worked with him, he’d fallen head over heels with your intelligence and skill. This summit would give A Starting Point a chance to present yet another perspective.

Chris hoped this trip would give you another perspective on him.

After you checked in, you sent your luggage up to your rooms and went to the Sunset Terrace restaurant to grab a bite to eat. It was gorgeous, and you were seated near the ledge, with that beautiful view of the sky.

The food and wine were amazing and the conversation was always A-1 with Chris. Although you couldn’t mistake his loud laugh, no one bothered him for autographs. This was that kind of swank.

On the way to your rooms, you were pointed to an old-time, attendant operated elevator, it’s shaft carved into the giant fireplace. It was small, so with three of you in the elevator, you had to stand close to Chris. You were uncomfortable; Chris was in heaven.

“Hello. I’m Gladys. You two here for a special occasion? Honeymoon, anniversary?” You could tell that Gladys was a spunky little lady.

Chris just chuckled as you corrected her.

“Oh no, we’re colleagues. Or this is my boss rather…”

Chris interrupted you. “Colleagues is correct.”

“This is a business trip.”

Gladys wasn’t going. “Shame. You two make a cute couple.”

“Oh?”

Chris was about to engage more as the elevator reached the 6th, and top floor of the historic part of the hotel. You walked out before he could continue. Chris was never inappropriate, but you felt his vibe at times.

“Have a nice night!”

“Thank you Gladys!” You waved as you looked for your room, leaving Chris to tip her. You needed to relax.

You walked to your room, 645, which was next door to Chris in 647. Chris looked over at you as you opened your doors, not wanting to end the night with you.

“Let’s meet for breakfast in the morning, Blue Ridge? In the new wing. We could finalize plans for the summit.”

“Sure Boss. Of course.” Chris shook his head at you. “We’re colleagues. You don’t have to call me Boss.”

You winked at him. “I know, Boss,” then you disappeared into your room. Chris was left feeling 14 years old again.

It was almost 10, but you were pleasantly surprised at your room. It was right at 100 years old, and the room was decorated in appropriate Art Deco furniture and hardwood floors.

There was a big king size bed and in the bathroom a huge claw foot tub. On the dresser, you were further pleased to find a bottle of wine and some chocolates, with a note from the staff.

It’s the little things.

You went to the window and was surprised that you could open it, leaning out as far as you could, looking out over the courtyard, Sunset Terrace, and the fountain. You looked all around, and when you looked to your left, you saw Chris doing the same. You laughed.

“Well hello. You like your room?”

Chris grinned back at you. “It’s cool. Very nice.”

“Well, sleep tight Chris.”

“Yeah. Sweet dreams.” Chris wanted to tell you to dream of him, but, nah.

You left the window open and closed the screen as you took a quick shower and put on your pjs: a tank top and booty shorts. You pineappled your hair and got in bed with the bottle of wine and chocolates, and posted up on your phone.

There was a message from Chris.

Why don’t we walk together to breakfast. And we didn’t say what time. What about 8:30?

You groaned, but he was the Boss.

That’s cool. See you then.

Chris didn’t respond. You figured the interaction was over.

“You in bed?”

It popped up 10 minutes later. He must have been in the shower. The image of Chris all wet did things to you, but you would never let him know that.

Lol, yes. I’m going to town on these chocolates. And the wine.

I KNOW? They are delicious. There are some I don’t like though.

EXACTLY. There is such a thing as too much chocolate.

Chris groaned when he read that.

I know no such thing.

You laughed at him.

I mean chocolate chocolate. It’s too rich. I’ll take a bite, but give me white chocolate all day.

Chris read one that twice.

Oh?

You saw his response and shook your head. Men.

You stuck your tongue out and snapped a pic. You sent it to him. The wine had you loose and you were tired. Inhibitions were coming off.

Chris looked at you with your hair tied up and glasses on, and thought you looked adorable. He responded in kind.

When you saw the pic Chris sent back, the main things you noticed was his thick tongue sticking out of his mouth and the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on.

Holy shit. You fought to not stick your hands down your panties. It would not do to get off to your Boss in the next room.

You didn’t, you couldn’t respond appropriately. So after a few minutes, Chris double texted.

Wanna trade?

Your thoughts were scattered, so you had no clue what he was talking about.

Hunh? Was that meant for me?

LOL, yes! I want your chocolate cream center. Do you want my white chocolate bar?

You stared at that one for a long time.

He sent another pic, and you were almost afraid to open it.

Chris was holding up the thin piece of white chocolate in his thick fingers.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” you exclaimed out loud, laughing to yourself.

Sure!

You responded and got ready to go to the door of your room. You heard a banging on the wooden door by your dresser.

“Open up!”

Chris' voice was muffled through the heavy wood. You laughed, startled.

You hadn’t noticed, but your room was a connector, you unlocked the door, and there stood Chris on the other side, now clad in a t-shirt and grey sweats that hung low on his hips. His tattoos peeked out on either side of his St. Christopher medal. You imagined that swinging in your face as he...Shit. Life wasn’t fair.

“Nice…”

Chris smiled at what he thought was a compliment. His face fell when you looked beyond him.

“Your room is bigger than mine…”

You looked back at him, hoping you played your thirst off well.

“Yeah, mine is....Big.”

You didn’t rise to the bait and instead just stood there. Chris had to keep his eyes from sweeping up and down your form.

His voice was deeper than at dinner.

“Well, are you going to give it to me?”

You gaped at him and then remembered. You turned and went back to the bedside table to get your box of chocolates. Chris got an eyeful then and had to say a quick prayer to not get a full on woodie at the sight of your body.

You approached him and held out your box to him. You giggled at the thought.

Chris looked up at you with those pretty blue eyes and picked out the chocolate cream.

“What?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he put the candy in his mouth and slowly withdrew his fingers. You were mesmerized.

“Nothing.”

You shook your head, and then suddenly patted your head. You must have looked a mess.

“You look amazing.” Chris read your mind, and your face. In fact, he had never wanted you more. You were so relaxed.

What Chris had planned to say was, “Do you want me to feed you my white chocolate?” But he just held out his candy to you. “Take it.”

The crack in his voice got you, and you gingerly picked the candy. He leaned in the doorway and watched you slowly suck the rectangular piece of chocolate and it was so much better than he imagined.

“Is it good?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Chris had to cough to cover a moan. Then he looked around.

Chris’s eyes were searching for something and he lighted on the bottle of wine next to your bed.

“Come have a drink with me.”

You turned your head toward your bottle and Chris checked you out, noticing that your nipples were hard. He had to shoot his shot.

You looked back at him. “Okay.”

That smile got him every time. You grabbed your wine and walked past him into his room.

“But I’m not using a glass. Straight from the bottle, Boss.”

When your lips wrapped around the neck of that bottle, Chris made a decision. He followed you into his room.

-------

Drinking led to talking, led to flirting, led to Chris admitting that he liked you. He didn’t want to lay it all out there in case you rejected him. He needed you to feel the same.

When he told you that, you leaned in for a kiss, making the first move. Those lips had been torturing you all night.

The kiss led to you on his lap, and you two grinding into each other through your thin night clothes. Somehow, you wound up on your knees, naked, staring at his magnificent cock.

“I mean, I knew it was big, just…it’s so pretty…”

You tentatively wrapped your hand around it and looked up at him through your lashes. Chris almost lost it. He imagined his cum dripping down your pretty little hand and he had to pray to remain in control.

“The things you do to me by just touching me, Beautiful. Shit.”

You sat back on your heels, your body glowing in the light from the courtyard. Chris’s windows were open too. Your hair was out and your glasses off. It was just you in your birthday suit, small hand pumping Chris’s massive cock. He may have dreamed of this a time or two.

You leaned forward, tentatively licking his angry red leaking head, and reveled in the sound of Chris moaning at the touch of your tongue.

Encouraged, you smiled and opened your mouth, first holding his head in your mouth and thoroughly wetting it, running your tongue along it to get acquainted.

Chris didn’t want to close his eyes and miss a moment of this, but your hot mouth was heaven. He fisted your hair, gently massaging your scalp, wanting to push you down his length. But he didn’t, wanting you to feel in control.

Your moan as you tried to take him all almost took him out. He felt the vibrations up his spine. Chris flexed his hips up toward your mouth as he imagined cumming down your throat.

You let the spit fall down his shaft as you released him. You laughed happily as you stroked him.

“So fucking big. Choke me with it.”

“Gotdamn.” This time Chris moved your head down his dick until he was lodged in your throat. He held you there a minute as you gagged and choked around him.

When he let you up, you smiled again, face ruined. You’d never looked more beautiful. He needed more from you. He let you take control again as you tried to deep throat him on your own. He watched, transfixed.

“It is big. I bet I’d break your little pussy.”

At that you pulled your mouth off him with a pop.

“Bet not. Boss.”

You swallowed his dick again, squeezing your throat like a pro. Chris gripped the arms of the chair as his head lolled back and his pelvis bucked up almost involuntarily. What were you doing to him?

“How do you want it? You wanna make love? Or you wanna fuck? You want it fast or slow? Want protection or do you wanna feel me raw inside you?”

Your eyes met his when he said that. At that moment he knew that you wanted the same things he did.

“I mean, we could do it all,” you stopped sucking and were just jacking him off, staring at him, hypnotized, as he reached out and thumbed your nipple tenderly, then roughly flicked it. He guessed correctly that you were dripping for him.

Chris looked wrecked and so fucking sexy. He leaned forward and whispered into your ear.

“I could put it in, just the tip, just for a minute and then I’ll take it out and put on a condom. I have to feel you…” He was so gone.

“Protection is the smart thing to do… right?”

Chris kissed you and your mind was scattered. He stood you up through the kiss, the palm of his hand supporting your chin as his mouth dominated yours.

His other hand was in your leaking folds and your reason was out of the open window. One, then two fingers pumped in and out of you and judging from what was in your hand, he could add one more and still not match his girth.

You wanted what was in your hand.

Chris reached for his bag for a condom, and you brought his hand back.

“I do want to feel you. Just for a minute.”

Chris started to smile, caressing your face and nodding.

“I promise I’ll pull out.”

Anything to be inside you. He hiked your leg up and wrapped it around him as he started swiping his tip along your folds, teasing you with his fat head. You wanted him to ruin you with it.

“Please Chris..” You were panting now.

“I got you…”

Chris walked you back to the bed and lay you down, pushing your knees apart with his hands. You pussy lips were glistening. He leaned down and had a taste.

“Shit, baby. I think I need you to come on my face first. So delicious.”

“Fuck, Chris.”

You splayed your legs wide, reached down and started pulling his hair as he ate you out. You looked down at him and your eyes connected. You leaned up to watch him and then collapsed on the bed at the sight.

Chris was licking long swaths up your slit with his thick tongue, stopping at your clit to suck. It started vibrating, and before you knew it, Chris had you cumming harder than you ever had from oral. Chris buried his mouth in you, lapping it up.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up the bed, dick bouncing as he got nearer. He got on his knees between yours and pulled your pelvis up against his and you could feel his heavy balls as he pushed into you tentatively.

The stretch!

You didn’t think it would be like this. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but not this. You wanted more.

You or your hands on America’s Ass and pushed, urging him to keep going.

“You okay?”

Your fucked out look made him want to take you apart. But he also felt the need to protect you. Damn, you had his heart, but he had to get you sprung first.

“Fuck me Chris… hard.”

You looked him in the eye as he slid that thick daddy long stroke inside you.

“Fuck!”

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he felt your pussy strangle his dick. This is where he belonged.

“Feels…” he had to shake his head to clear it. He was trying to dickmatize you, but he realized too late that he only succeeded in pussy whipping himself.

“God you feel so good.” the rumble of his whisper in your ear made your stomach flip and your back ache.

He buried his head in your collarbone as he began to move. The tightness, the glide, the ride. You were all he imagined. And beyond.

You were stunned at the feeling. Chris filled you up like no one else could.

“Fuck… baby. Baby? I want you. I want this pussy to be mine.”

He stroked until he found that spot that made you light up, and then held you down and made you take it. You didn’t want to respond, but even if you did, you couldn’t.

“I want you to be mine. Do you want to be mine?”

“That’s not fair, Chris…” You moaned as he swiveled his hips to fuck you even better.

But the answer was yes. You closed your eyes and bit your lips, remembering that the window was open.

Chris started sucking and kissing down your neck and your collarbone, reaching your breasts and laving your nipples. He suckled them with the perfect pressure to get you to the brink. Your soft moans made him want to fuck you harder. So he did.

“Ok, I guess the condom is irrelevant now, but you probably want me to pull out, hunh.” His voice in your ear was irresistible. You didn’t answer.

“I’m gonna just stroke five...no six more times. Then pull out.” He looked up at your face.

“Count it out.”

“One… two… three… fourfivesix.”

You couldn’t breathe as you counted because of the anticipation. Your daydream came true as his medal started waving in your face.

You started cumming at four and Chris didn’t pull out, just fucked you through one of the best orgasms in your life.

When you were finished, he pulled out, standing up and panting. His dick was bobbing and weaving as he stood there, chest heaving.

Chris moved for his bag again and you started begging, standing up and stopping him.

“Please no, just, just pull out and finish that way. I want to feel you. Please let me feel you some more Chris.”

Chris grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you. He whispered onto your lips.

“I’m never gonna stop having you this way.”

You knew what was up.

He turned you around and suddenly you were leaning over the windowsill, being fucked to within an inch of your life. Your eyes were trained on the couple below you who were looking out at the fountain, and praying that they didn’t turn around and look up.

But you didn’t care, because Chris was spearing into you, circling his hips subtly so that he made sure that his huge cock made contact with each and every nerve ending in your pussy.

You closed your eyes and tried not to make a sound. The window was open and the room was just a few yards away from these people who would be so shocked to know what you were doing.

That knowledge made you even wetter and clench around Chris’s dick.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet and tight for me. You gonna scream for me? Hunh? Gonna let me hear you?”

You clamped your lips shut and shook your head. Chris chuckled into your ear to hear the squeak in your throat from trying to be quiet. It turned him on even more.

He dipped his hips to fuck up into you more. He didn’t want to be caught, but trying to make you scream was getting him even harder. He wanted to hear what he was doing to you.

You moved your head down to press upon the vintage wood of the window sill and you started whispering.

“Fuck, Chris… damn, shit that feels too good.”

Your breathy whisper made Chris’s dick swell and pulse inside you. Your oh so quiet noises and the squelch of your wetness as he slapped into you made him want to bust.

“Do you want me to cum inside you? You already begged to feel me. You really want me to pull out?”

You bit your lips and moaned a little at the thought, trying to hold on to the last bits of sensibility in your head. What you were thinking didn’t make sense.

Chris started grunting quietly, sneaking a peak at the people on the terrace but then back down to where your pussy was swallowing his dick when he thrust inside you and stretching to hold him in when he pulled back.

“Fuck! This shit looks so good.”

He looked down again and grunted, a little louder now.

“I could pull out and come on your back? Better yet, your ass….”

Chris knew damn well he wasn't leaving this pussy before emptying his full load inside you. He just needed you to say it.

“Chris…”

“Wouldn't want to get caught up and cum inside you, now would we?”

“Mmmmmmm fuck!”

“I mean, you might get…” Chris started fucking you harder and faster now, speeding up towards his goal.

“I…fuck… Chris..” Your whisper was urgent.

He smacked your ass hard, and you looked up at the couple. They didn’t act as if they heard anything.

“Don’t worry about them. Worry about if you’re gonna be addicted to my cock when I’m done with you. What are you going to do then?”

“Ohhhhhh, Shit Chris!” You started quivering which made him close.

“Fucking hell, are you you trying to make me a daddy?”

“Oh God Chris!”

“Want me to fuck my baby into you?”

Your legs started shaking.

“Goddamn it. If you’re gonna be mine I’d keep you pregnant and happy. Do you want that?”

Something was beginning to snap inside you.

He grabbed you by the throat and started fucking up into you, the moonlight just a few feet from revealing Chris Evans having his way with you.

His mouth was at your ear now, once hand on your hip to hold you down and one still on your throat. He continued to stuff his fat cock into your tight hole again and again.

“Last chance to choose. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Pull. Out?” His deep velvet whisper was everything. Him punctuating each word with a thrust would be your undoing.

You arched your back and grabbed a handful of his silky hair, pulling hard. You threw your ass back on him.

“Come inside me. Daddy.”

“Fuck yes!”

Chris slung you into the leather lounge chair and pushed your face into the cushion.

He held your shoulders down as he pounded into you.

You grabbed the cushion and screamed into it, trying to muffle the sound. Chris’s hips snapped into you, punishing your swollen pussy with pleasure. He marveled as you felt designed for him.

“I will never, ever, ever, ever, use a condom when I’m in this. This is mine.” He whispered, voice forceful, even at such a low volume.

“Is it mine?” You were drooling into the leather, mind scrambled from what he was doing to you. Of course it was his.

He smacked your ass hard. “I said. Is. This. Pussy. Mine.” More penis punctuation.

“Yes.”

Your whisper was soft, so it gave Chris an excuse. But he heard you, and it made his heart leap.

“What did you say?”

“Yes, Chris. This pussy is yours. Take it.”

Chris’s rhythm got erratic and sloppy. You were sloppy, your juices running down your legs. You were whimpering now, and when you opened your mouth to moan, your throat was sore.

“Oh C-C-Chrisssss. I’m, I’m….”

“Shit, cum for me baby…”

“I’m cummmmminnnnggg”

“That’s it...ffffuckkkkkk.”

Chris pumped what felt like gallons of cum into you, and now you were both soaked.

Chris leaned over you, not wanting to leave your warmth, but he slipped out of you to go turn on the shower.

You were trying to stand up and walk gingerly toward the bathroom. He was right, he had wrecked your pussy.

“Are you alright?” Chris looked worried.

“No. You broke my box. I hate you.”

Chris’s face fell. You laughed and said, “Look at me.” He turned his pretty blues on you.

“I was joking. I don’t hate you. In fact....”

Chris couldn’t help but smile, and he kissed you before you finished.

“Me too.”

You two stared at each other a minute until you kissed him and dragged his big ass into the bathroom. He resisted.

“That shower is for you, the way these tubs are set up…”

His bathroom was fitted with an awkward shower situation to accommodate the vintage tub.

You shrugged and got in, and started washing yourself. Chris watched you through the clear glass and started to get hard again. When he started stroking himself, you did the same. He got mad.

Soon, Chris was fucking up into you again in the shower.

“Now when it comes to this pussy. I am the Boss.”

“Yes. Sir.”

You whimpered, totally satisfied to follow orders.

For now.

-----

Let me know if you like it!

Next part

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @fineanddandy @olyvoyl @chaoticsteverogers @txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83

#Chris Evans #fineanddandy1kchallenge #baecation #smutcation #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans fic

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strawberrykidneystone · 2 months

Text

Masterlist

hi i’m tulip🌷(she/they) welcome to my blog!!!<333

requests are open!

ao3 (slowly working on adding my works on here too)

buy me a coffee?☕️

JJK:

Moving in with Gojo

BG3:

What art movement each bg3 character would like the most

FO3:

in progress…

FONV:

3’s a crowd (nsfw benny gecko x courier x swank)

FO4:

Tastes like home (nsfw john hancock x reader)

Sole coming back home to Hancock blurb (fluff john hancock x reader)

Piper and Sole headcanons

casual? (angst to fluff john hancock x reader)

morning sunshine (fluff john hancock x reader)

Fallout Series:

a farm with chickens (long fluff the ghoul x reader ft. lucy)

you’re a cowboy like me (angsty fluff the ghoul x reader)

Mass Effect:

from earth with love (smut garrus x fem! shepard mutual masterbation)

shepard-vakarian love nest (fluff garrus x fem! shepard)

interspecies liason (fluff garrus x fem! shepard)

turians don’t get jealous (smut garrus x fem! shepard)

i was gone for two seconds (fluff garrus x fem! shepard)

it’s too quiet (angst garrus x shepard)

normandy cat headcanon

Gravity Falls:

Fresh Out the Slammer I Know Who My First Call Will Be (smut stanley pines x reader)

#masterlist #strawberrykidneystone #fallout #mass effect #jjk #bg3 #fnv #fo3 #fo4 #fallout series #mass effect trilogy #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect 1 #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3 #ao3

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falloutfangrell · 2 years

Text

So I kinda wrote a fanfic after not writing one for 3 years so please forgive me if it’s not great but here’s a Benny x F!Reader. TW: SMUT, Swearing, smoking, slight spanking.

“Six…meet me upstairs in 5” Benny nervously ran his hands down his stupid checkered suit repeatedly as he walked towards the lift of the Tops, which you thought was fairly out of character for him. You’d gotten to know the casino owner fairly well since you tracked him half way across the Mojave, answers being one of the many things you found when you met him. You thought about putting a bullet in his head to return the favour, ‘an eye for an eye’, but you couldn’t help but like the guy when you met him, the way he spoke like a gambler having a stroke, his stupid dress sense, his unapologetic sarcasm, he was just your kinda trouble. That’s why you began sleeping with him, not for the money (like swank assumed) but because you genuinely had a thing for him, which you knew was completely insane, but what was even more insane was the fact you hoped he felt the same.

You finished your drink and sighed, wondering if it was the bullet that made you so stupid or if you were always this way, you couldn’t remember much about yourself after all. You headed up to the 13th floor, swank giving you a knowing wink as you got out of the elevator, causing you to roll your eyes at him, and fixed a stray bit of hair behind your ear before knocking on Benny’s door. He opened it, and you could see something was off by the look on his face, and the lack of a witty remark as you stepped through the door.

“Hey pussycat..we need to talk.” Because that’s not daunting. “No hello first?” You jested but he just walked to the table to grab a pack of cigarettes. “Uhh sure, shall I sit?” You asked, slightly nervous now. He nodded and lit up a smoke as you sat yourself down on his couch, almost laughing to yourself as you realised this was probably the first time you’d sat on it with clothes on. He passed you the lit cigarette as he took another out and lit it for himself. He turned to you with a look that bore into your soul.

“So doll, I’ve been thinking about some stuff, really using the ol noggin here, and well… “ he trailed off, unsure what to say. You stayed quiet, letting him find the words. “…well you’re the kinda ring a ding broad I dig, yanno?” You’d gotten fairly used to the way he speaks by now, his silly phrases that make your heart soar and brain cry for help. “Well yeah babe, I mean, I kinda hoped you dig me, we’ve been fucking for a couple of months now” you joked, trying to lighten the sudden serious atmosphere, and silence your rapid heartbeat.

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Yeah Baby course I dig ya, it’s just, well, I guess I dug the hole a lil deeper than I intended…” he trailed off again, this time pacing around the room a little, puffing on his fag like it was an inhaler. You took a drag of your own, watching him, trying to figure out what he’s getting at, not wanting to jump to conclusions. His movements were almost erratic, he seemed almost nervous? You’d never seen him like this before.

“What’d ya mean?” You asked him, suddenly more serious. He looked at you with a look you’d never seen before, one you couldn’t quite place. He took another drag on his fag and stubbed it out and you did the same, and he sat down beside you. He looked at you but broke the eye contact quickly, and took a long, shaky breath. “Baby, listen, I know what we have going on between us is a little coo coo, and I know swank thinks we are utterly insane, but I like what we have…maybe more than I should, and I wanna make it more permanent, ya feel me? I like ya a lot doll face, I wanna make ya mine, show ya off and stuff, what’d ya say to that?” To anyone else it would sound like a shit way to be asked out, but you could see the nerves in Benny’s eyes, you could tell he really means it, and for Benny to genuinely care about someone other than himself is a goddamn miracle, and the best thing you could ever imagine happening to you.

You took his hand in yours and smiled at him, not a flirty smile like usual, a genuine, toothy grin. “I’d like that a lot Benny, been thinking it a while myself, and you didn’t even say anything too stupid in that sentence so I know you mean it” you said with a slightly joking tone but you knew he would know you meant it, you don’t get mushy very often. He smiled at you and breathed out a long breath you’re not sure even he knew he was holding in, and he laughed “damn pussycat, well okay, I didn’t expect ya to say that, I mean I shot you in the damn head after all, didn’t think you’d forgive me for that in the first place, let alone actually fall for this crazy cat.” He’d never really said sorry for it, but you knew he felt bad about what happened, he admitted that it haunts him, and you’d reassured him early on that it was okay, no hard feelings, yet he still dropped hints that he felt bad.

“Baby it’s okay, you didn’t kill me. Sure, I lost my memory, but who I was isn’t important anymore, I know who I am now…and I’m yours.” You knew dropping that on the end would make his heart skip a beat and you could tell it worked. He grasped your hand tighter and leaned in to close the gap between you both with a kiss, not your usual frantic heated kiss, but a more passionate one, showing care and maybe even love, leaving your lips tingling when he pulled away. You ran your hand up his chest and grasped at his shirt, pulling him close and whispering in his ear “So.. how about we seal the deal, huh baby?”

That was all he needed to hear.

Benny connected your lips once more, this time a familiar burning passion behind his movements, he grabbed your waist and lifted you onto his lab, moving his hands around to grip your ass as you kissed back fervently, grinding into his lap, feeling his hard on through his tight suit trousers. You began to undo his jacket buttons and slid it down his toned arms, never breaking the kiss, and began work on his shirt buttons.

He slid his hand up your dress and ran his fingers over your black lacy thong, groaning as he realised you’d been wearing something so revealing all night. You leant into his hand, begging to be touched, as you popped last shirt button out and hurriedly tugged it down his arms and tossed it across the room.

Benny’s chest was littered with wiry dark hairs and covered in scars. You thought he was absolutely perfect. You ran your hands over him, feeling his toned muscles tense underneath your touch, and you moaned into the kiss, causing Benny to cease his teasing and slide your pretty little thong down your legs. Gently he rubbed his fingers around your pussy, moaning at how soaked you were for him, and he stuck 2 fingers in you gently, teasingly, and coaxed a deep moan from your lips, causing him to break away from the kiss in a breathy chuckle.

“Damn baby girl, already such a mess for me, how about we take this somewhere with more room huh?” Without waiting for an answer he scooped you up, making you squeak in surprise, and he lovingly placed you down on his bed. Your hair was sprawled out around your head, your legs parted for him, thong long discarded, dress all tucked up around your waist, and Benny didn’t think you could look any more beautiful.

You grabbed his belt and pulled so he fell towards you, putting his hands either side of your head as not to crush you, and you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down into a wild kiss, showing him how hungry you were for him, and he returned the favour.

He began lifting your dress up and you elevated your back to let him slide it up off of you. He took a second to look at you and you swear you heard a faint “beautiful” leave his lips before they were on your neck, kissing down from your ear to your collar bone, finding that sweet spot that always made your eyes roll and lips whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He left a small mark, just enough to show you’re his, and began trailing kisses down your chest, stopping to show attention to your breasts, right one first, then left, drawing heavy moans from you as much as you tried to stifle them.

He slowly, painfully slowly, kissed down to your belly button, then your thighs, teasing you by avoiding the one place you so desperately need to be touched, but you knew better than to complain, or he would drag it out even longer. You’d learnt that lesson the hard way.

After what seemed like an eternity, Benny ran a finger up your folds, brushing against your clit and making you gasp and grasp for the bed sheets, clutching them in your fists. He parted your legs even more and began licking circles into your bundle of nerves, making your legs tremble in anticipation. When he began flicking his tongue you lost all composure, moaning loud, making him start to lose it too. Just when you started to feel that knot in your stomach tighten, he pulled away, making you whine for more. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and licked the juices off of it, making you feel so warm inside your core.

“Ugh pussycat, look at you, all wound up like a jack-in-the-box. Not gonna last 5 minutes with me inside you, are you now?” He teased, undoing his belt buckle, watching the way you stared at him with such desire, causing a pang of warmth to shoot through his heart. And his dick.

You sat up to help undo his trouser buttons, knowing he loves watching you do that, and he gave your ass a slap with the belt, he never did it hard, but just enough to make your body jolt, and god did he love to watch your tits bounce like that. You freed his cock, always taken aback by its size and girth, and he kicked his trousers off and threw the belt somewhere over his shoulder. You ran your fingers up his shaft, causing his breath to hitch, and lowered your head to lick the pre-cum from his tip.

You know how quickly he comes undone like this, and you glance up to see his eyes shut and jaw clenched, trying his best to stay sane. You took his tip into your mouth and began to suck, using one hand to slowly jerk his shaft, and he ran his fingers through your hair, breathing heavily and trying to stifle the steady flow of moans escaping his mouth. You put your other hand on his balls, gently squeezing them, and his breath hitched again, letting out a guttural moan, tilting his head back and pulling your hair, and you let him go with a pop.

“Fuck, Six, fuck” he breathed, and now it was your turn to tease him. “Aww is my man all fired up already? What are you going to do about it big guy?” In a split second he had you back on your back, kissing you harshly and grinding down on you, both of you moaning at the intensity of it, both of you desperately yearning for one another. Without breaking the kiss, Benny leant down and positioned himself at your entrance and proceeded to push in slowly, forcing the kiss to break as you both gasped, the both of you relishing in that feeling. You felt so tight around him and he felt so big, making you feel so full and warm inside.

He started off at a slow pace, but it didn’t last long before he was a mess, his pace erratic, both of your moans filling the room, you tugging his hair and him playing with your tits. He reached one hand down to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He looked so handsome like this, hair falling in his face, sweat glistening off his torso, you could cum just from looking at him. And he thought the same about you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, causing a hiss from him and making him thrust even deeper, and you cried out as he brushed against your sweet spot, which he then aimed for, causing you to race towards your release.

“Benny, fuck, Benny I’m gonna cum” you managed to gasp out in between moans. “Fuck baby same, fuck fuck fuck…” he sped the pace up on your clit and you saw stars.

“Fuck Benny!” You came hard on his cock and the tightening of your walls pushed him over the edge too “shit Six, ugh fuck” he practically growled as he came into you.

He rode out his orgasm with a few more pumps and pulled out, rolling onto his back beside you and pulling you into his embrace. You lay your head on his chest and listened to his rapid heart beat, still coming down from your high. You started to let your mind wander back to his confession and found yourself laughing. It was a small breathy laugh, but he heard it. “Whatcha laughing at doll face?” He asked, amusement in his voice. “I love you, that’s what.” You could swear you heard his heart skip a beat. You looked up at him and without hesitation he lifted your chin and pulled you in for a soft gentle kiss. “I love you too Six, that’s what I was trying to say earlier, I dunno how you make it seem so damn easy” he flashed a wide smile and cuddled you close, and you lay your head back on his chest, slowly drifting off to sleep with him, feeling so safe and loved.

(Poor Yes-Man is fucking traumatised)

#fallout #fallout new vegas #FNV #benny gecko #benny fnv #Benny x reader #Benny x reader smut #smut #Benny gecko smut

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theacevampire · 2 years

Text

Under The Skin V

Pairing: Kakashi x fem!Reader

Genre: romance, kind of hurt/comfort

Wordcount: ~2.2k

Warnings: none

Track: LANNÉ, Giorgio Gee, Scott Rill – Lady

A/N: Here's the final chapter. Writing the series has been a lot of fun and I'm (again) thankful for all the support you've given it, so enjoy the finale and let me know what you think!

Under The Skin masterlist

Future

The moon shone brightly in the dark when Kakashi walked through the narrow alley ending diagonally across your studio. Although the sun had set long ago, the air was still mild thanks to the approaching summer and occasionally people hurried through to get home. A soft breeze ruffled through his hair, grazing his cheeks even through the mask, and the surface felt rough on his arm as he leaned against a flower shop’s brick wall.

Your studio was brightly lit, casting shadows on the ground. Despite the late hour you were still working, a bare-chested Genma on your chair.

It wasn’t the first time he hung around your workplace at this time of day: Over the last week he had visited every other day, never brave enough to walk through your door. Because what reason had he? Wanting to see you? That wasn’t good enough to disrupt your work and so he remained hidden in the dark, watching you from afar like a creep.

He watched you dance through the room to get something from the back, your body moving with the dull beat echoing through the air up to Kakashi’s ears and laughing at something Genma had said.

The sight caused a pang in his chest. He wanted to be the one to make you laugh, the one you spend your late evenings with, the one you saw shirtless.

Jealous. Kakashi hated to admit it but he was jealous: of the time you spend together, the attention you gave him, the bond you had. He was very well aware he had no right to complain as it was his own fault, he didn’t make a move.

A harsh breeze tugged on his covered upper arm, reminding him of how soft your breath had felt there when you had blown on his tattoo after you had finished it. ‘To see how it looks when chakra’s flowing through your arm’, you had said.

Inside you endured Genma’s endless teasing after inducing a satisfying pain on him and fighting the urge to murder him right then and there.

“Just admit you have a crush on him.”

“I don’t.”

“You gave him an appointment at two in the morning!”

“No idea what you’re talking about. It was just a favor.”

He clicked his tongue, a balancing act between annoyance and frustration thanks to your stubbornness. “That’s not ‘just a favor’, my dear.”

You wrapped the new lightning on the left half of his chest in foil, before sanitizing your equipment, giving Genma time to get dressed again.

“I barely know him”, you argued, going through a stack of paper at your reception.

“Maybe, but apparently that isn’t stopping you.”

“I don’t have a crush on Kakashi Hatake, Genma.”

But Genma continued sticking to his guts, “Yes, you do. Even a blind man can see it.”

As he leaned over your front desk, the senbon bopping in his mouth hypnotized you like a dancing temptation to poke his eyes out. Or use it to scratch some scars from the corners of his mouth over his cheeks to his ears – it would make him look like the villain he was. Then again, he would probably swank around and proudly ask people if they’d like to know how he got the scars.

“Bold words for someone whose skin is in my hands.”

“C’mon. Just ask him out.”

“When? I don’t see him outside these four walls.”

“He’s literally standing outs–”

Genma didn’t get to finish his sentence as the door was kicked in, the bell’s ringing echoing angrily through the room. A gigantic, dark lump the size of the bear bolted through your studio, seeking shelter under the desk in the archive.

You blinked a few times before realizing what had just happened.

The door was opened again – though with more caution this time – and an embarrassed Kakashi entered. “Have you seen my dog by any chance?”, he asked, giving you an apologetic look and awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

Internally, you cursed Genma as your heart skipped a beat before beating violently and you realized that maybe he was right and you did have at least a little crush on Kakashi.

“You mean the beast that’s hiding somewhere in my office?”, you returned with a witty grin despite your lips trembling slightly.

Kakashi nodded and the two of you walked to the back where a shaky bulldog had curled up under your desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think the wind outside would freak him out like this and even less he would burst in here.”

“I’ll take this is Bull?”

Instead of a verbal answer, you only got another nod in return.

Over the next half an hour, every attempt made to get Bull to come out from his hiding place was rendered useless. No matter what you tried – coaxing, luring with treats, pushing with force – Bull wouldn’t move even an inch and the two of you were left with no other option than surrender.

You had sat down in front of your reception desk, your back and head leaning against the wooden surface, and encouraged Kakashi to sit down next to you. He followed and left barely space for a piece of paper between your bodies. Genma had left at some point, silently, without either of you noticing.

“Your studio’s nice.”

“Thanks. Half the interior is my dad’s, though. He taught me a lot: the handling of a tattoo machine, multiple techniques to do gradients, different art styles.” A sigh left your lips. “But the most important thing I picked up from him is his principle that everyone is equal in these halls. Skin is skin, no matter the title of the skin’s person.”

“It’s a nice precept. I like it.”

“How’s your arm? Is the tattoo healing properly?”, you asked.

Instinctively, he moved his arm around. “Yeah. I asked Sakura to help a bit.”

His heart fluttered when your soft laugh reached his ears. “Don’t do this too often. Otherwise, you’ll end up like Genma when he asked Shizune one too many times to heal his tattoos.” In response to his eyebrow raised in question, you explained, “He used to ask her constantly to heal his tattoos and at some point, she got so fed up, she refused to treat one of his wounds on his chest when he returned from a mission. It was nothing major, but without her proper healing it turned into a scar that’s now constantly reminding him not to ask her again.”

“Sounds like something Shizune would do.”

More time passed as the two of you sat there, silently, the wind outside turning into a full-blown storm as rain started lashing against the display window.

“Have you met them yet?”, Kakashi broke the silence.

“Who?”

“The person in your life you won’t be able to help no matter how hard you try.”

You smiled at him. “I thought I did, but I refused to give up and I think I’ve found a solution the both of us like. Haven’t I?” Kakashi gulped. You had. Really. Thanks to you, he didn’t feel as bad looking at the flame anymore. Though he was far from being indifferent about what it represented, he didn’t feel the same amount of self-hatred anymore.

A heavy sigh slipped from Kakashi’s lips as he watched a few drops running down the glass. His head flung around when he heard a growl coming from the archive’s direction. Getting up and walking over to his dog, Kakashi tried luring him out once again. But Bull still refused to come out, only whimpering when Kakashi knelt in front of him, asking if Bull really didn’t want to go home.

“At home you have a bed. You don’t have to lie here, on the cold floor”, you tried to convince him, but to no avail.

So Kakashi got up again and walked over to your door to leave.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“He’s hungry. I’ll get him some food, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

The promised minute passed, but no sign of Kakashi returning. Slowly, the bulk under your desk started moving: lifting up his head first and then crawling out from his hiding spot. Bull trudged through your studio towards the door, letting out another whine, and for the first time you noticed how big he was. On all fours he was a few inches taller than you in your sitting position. If you were standing you wouldn’t need to bend down at all to pet his head and he was probably tall enough to lay his paws on your shoulders when standing on his hind legs.

Suddenly, a new idea sparked up in your head. Instead of collecting the paw prints of his ninken in one place – or on one body part, they could be scattered all over his body, placing them on the level the front paws would reach when they stood on their rear legs. You practically jumped up from your position to get your pencil and sketchbook, before sitting down on the floor again.

Bull, whose attention you had attracted with your sudden movement, tilted his head and abandoned his spot at the door, trotting over to you. He sniffed at the paper and let out a shy bark when he recognized Kakashi in your sketch. A little downhearted, he crossed his front paws and rested his massive head on them, curling up beside you.

“Hey, Bull”, you greeted him softly, cautious not to scare him – you were a stranger to him after all. “How high can you reach on Kakashi? Neckline? Shoulders?”

He barked again, once.

“Neckline?”

Another bark.

Sizing Bull’s height up, you came to the conclusion Bull could probably even reach Kakashi’s ears but since that wouldn’t look as good, you placed Bull’s paw prints along Kakashi’s neckline, nails just above the collarbone.

“Is Pakkun tall enough to reach his knee?”

This time the answer was a low growl.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. It’s just a sketch anyway, so I’ll put them just below the kneecap; we can still adjust the exact position later in case it’s necessary.”

You were speculating about the sizes of his remaining six ninken, when Kakashi returned, soaked but carrying a paper bag from a nearby store, and Bull's mood instantly lit up: he lifted his head and wagged his tail, though his bark contained a huffy tone as if to say ‘That was more than a minute!’

The rain dripping from his hair and clothes formed a puddle on your floor, so you went and got a fresh towel from the pile you had in your restroom.

Kakashi got on one knee next to Bull’s huge paws and gave him an apologetic smile while petting his head. “I’m sorry, bud. They didn’t have your favorite at the store around the corner, so I had to walk further away.” His gaze fell on your sketchbook. “Is that me?”, he called after you.

Your cheeks were burning when you returned and handed him the towel. “Yeah, it’s just a sketch for an idea that came to my mind just now when Bull trudged through here, waiting for you. It’s supposed to include all your ninken – like the other one – but since I don’t know where they could reach, I couldn’t map them.”

“Would you estimate the spots depending on their heights?”

“Since making them step in paint and then put their paws on you is probably your least favorite option, yes, I would.”

Surprisingly, he gave you a challenging look. “I’m up for it.”

A chuckle slipped from your lips. “So eager to get the next one done?”

“Don’t they say you can’t stop once you start? And didn’t that already happen to Genma?”

“True.”

“And I wanted to ask if the offer for the other drafts is still up? Because I’d like to remember my old team too. You know, the one with the kunai, the field and the goggles?”

Warmth spread through your chest and you couldn’t stop the wide grin tugging on your lips. “Sure, I’m glad you like them so much.”

“Oh, by the way: I got something to eat for us as well. The rain doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop soon, so I guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

For the next two hours, the two of you got to know each other a fair bit better while talking about more personal topics than last time and when the rain gradually eased up, he insisted on walking you home – together with Bull who seemed to have taken a liking to you.

Just when you turned to your door, Kakashi cleared his throat, “Would you allow me to treat you to dinner some time? Like a real one, not some instant ramen?”

“As a date?”

He nodded, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

“Sure.”

“Friday after you’re done with work?” You nodded. “I’ll see you then.” His hand grabbed yours and guided it to his covered lips.

Internally, you were a flustered mess and you could only hope it wasn’t too obvious on your face.

Your dad had told you, he believed everyone would meet one person in their life they wouldn’t be able to help, no matter how bad they wanted. And maybe that was true. But Kakashi wasn’t that person for you.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi under the skin #vampire:SSD #vampire:narutoOS

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soranihimawari · 2 years

Text

Sir, do you mind?

Or how Sakusa gets to know his neighbor…

Pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader//hints at poly

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 🔞-mdni, reader is escort by profession// sir kink and or praise(?)// nondescript sex scene

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of many talents and accomplishments. One of which is being a naturally gifted player on his home team, the MSBY Black Jackals. The second is also being blessed with the height of a tall athlete regardless and with such talents (along with a killer track record), he was able to graduate and live on his own by the time his second season with the Jackals had officially paid him enough to by the last penthouse suite in his current building.

Suffice to say living on his own has been quite nice. There was no Bokuto or Miya who would have had shenanigans up the wa-zoo to keep him up all night; there was no energetic sunshine, Hinata, who would bother him to keep hitting serves and receives until well past midnight. Maybe a third one is actually having a service escort as his neighbor, who as of right now, keeps their line of work (and that world) private.

Thankfully, with the help of Motoya, Sakusa finds his place to be furnished completely–it was a pretty swank bachelor pad,at least you would think so. Speaking of you, you’re a new neighbor. You finally achieved that big girl promotion, so your law firm at the time, chose to cover your expenses alongside personally purchasing the condo on the opposite side of the penthouse suite.

You, whose wardrobe is currently made with high waisted slacks and cotton button downs or eastern-styled tunic tops, with longer ringlets than his own, stone gray eyes which reflect the clouds during the current rainy season, who always greets Sakusa with a saccharine smile, has seemed to be completely oblivious as to why the volleyball player lingers in the mailroom. Or why he tries, but fails spectacularly, at making brownies when you confide in him your mother got on your case again for not going on more dates. Sure, you’ve had dates that seemed to have turned into one night stands only for those gentleman callers to leave your flat with a disgruntled look. One of which tells Sakusa who was returning from the grocery store about your insane collection of tabletop games and mystery book walls:

“YN is a real piece of work,” he said. “There’s wall to wall novels about murder, others are guide books for D&D, dice everywhere, and man! What a shut in! …”

Sakusa didn’t need to know this information, but seeing how annoyed the douchebag next to him in the elevator, the former top three aces in Japan arches his brow at the stranger.

“Why are you telling me this?” Sakusa asks. His bag is held up in his hands,very few vegetables were tall enough to peak out by the handles.

“You’re her neighbor, so I thought you knew you live next to a prudish nerd.”

The elevator dings and as the man leaves while Sakusa just rolls his eyes on your behalf.

It takes another month of self-discovery, as his father once put it, for Sakusa to run into you again. You prattle on your call with your mother who is very worried at this point you’ve turned down every single one of her matchmaking dates. Sakusa had just come home from an evening jog in the gym provided in the building, but he thinks he sees an irkmark form over your space bun styled hair. You were wearing tights and a midriff shirt that showed off your toned physique and Sakusa tries really hard not to stare, but he does anyway. His mind falls into the red zone while nervously trying to talk himself out of trying to leave as soon as possible. Your face seemed flushed because of the heat, but you eventually hung up on your mother saying you had enough with her habits of trying to find you a date. You glance over your right shoulder to see your neighbor gawking at you, so you straight up lied to your mother:

“I have a date tonight ma…Yes I do! I’m not lying,” you mouth out the words to Sakusa as you walk toward him. “Say hi to my mom Omi-kun.”

And Sakusa, proud and unyielding outside hitter for the Black Jackals, pinches the bridge of his nose after you tack on a barely audible, ‘please?’, and grabs your phone out of your hands.

“Hello… Oh? YN is a fine neighbor… No, I didn’t know that…Umm, here they are,” he shoves the phone back into your hands and you end the call. You thank him with a bow as you offer to take his grocery bag, you hold the lighter one now.

Inside the elevator again, you stand side by side with him. He says nothing as you complain about your last date who just up and left. You tell him about your kinks like how peace and quiet is a major turn on; you like tying up people as a rigger; and the fact that your job isn’t really a firm at all–

“I’m a professional kink escort,” you say proudly. You wink at him.

Sakusa, if he was more prone to use slang, would have asked you if you were deadass serious about your job. Instead, he uses the pun below:

“...Come again?”

Miya Atsumu would’ve lost his shit laughing at how his teammate seemed to be clueless about what he just said. Then again, the only other serious interaction he had in the dating arena would have been the first and only time he ever fucked an ex-girlfriend in college. The elevator dings, doors opening to your floor.

“You heard me,” you said matter-of-factly. “Are you surprised?”

Sakusa’s Adam’s apple bops, a sure as hell sign as any that he was. What does he do with that sort of information? He can’t really ask playboy Miya or steady relationship Bokuto, can he? Should he ask Meian on Monday when practice is self-ran? No, he settles. I’ll deal with this on my own, he continues pondering upon it not hearing you offer to make dinner. Though Sakusa nods at you, you wait for him to open the door to his place.

A couple hours later, around nine-thirty, your cacciapepe pasta is plated and thoroughly enjoyed by the athlete. It was cheat day, so the noodles and eating late was a bit rule-bending, but eating with you was one of the highlights of the day. You and Sakusa swap stories about growing up; he tells you about his volleyball career and you tell him about the time you fell in love with professional escorting. You had described it as a maid cafe except sexual acts or devious deeds sometimes are included.

“Depending on the client,” you add. Sakusa is currently soaking the dishes with large yellow gloves, for you to find that hilariously cute is an understatement. You have a pesky smile on your face no doubt enjoying the domesticity of it.

“What about you Sakusa-san? Do you have any kinks?” you have a teasing lilt in your voice when you ask. He almost lets go of the plate he was soaking, but he catches it in time for you to laugh a bit at his cold stare.

“No,” he answers, angry at this turn of events.

“Ah, figures. Perhaps one of these days I’ll take you under my wing then, huh?”

You slide off the chair to approach him in the kitchen area. He was washing his hands profusely at the moment while you leaned against the dishwasher.

“Sir, do you mind?” you nonchalantly switched your voice to a more innocently provocative one. Sakusa turns to face you from his peripheral line of sight. You notice he doesn’t flinch, rather he actually casually grins at the word, ‘sir.’

Gotcha you little devil, you think. You say nothing as you run your fingers up and down his arm closest to you, as if striking a match against his skin. His hair bounces when he is pulled in front of you, following your demanding lead from just the slightest touch you give him. Perhaps a bit touch starved too, your mind thinks this through, so with a clearing of your throat, you whisper words that would eventually change your dynamic for a long time to come.

“Does sir mind if I ask him to kiss me?”

You glance up, placing a bit of distance when you decidedly hop up on the immaculate granite counter. Sakusa groans saying you do not make it any easier for him to deny you anything, especially now when your legs are spread the right width for him to stand in front of you with a pointed look.

“I just cleaned this counter space not too long ago,” his voice drops in tone for feigning annoyance.

You’re about to apologize for a second, yet Sakusa was one step ahead of you: his left hand curls under your chin to have you meet his lips in a chaste meeting. He holds you there for a few more seconds and you only focus on how diligently they had felt against your own. You feel his hands leave your chin altogether and instead his hand cups your cheek. Hearing him hum when he pulls away, makes you smile, slowly opening your eyes.

“Gorgeous thing you are,” you pretend to not hear the compliment only to nod in his hand. You seemed cute like this with a squished cheek in his palm. Sakusa never was affectionate around any of his former beaus, but for you, he decides to try now, especially since your hand reaches for the front of his shirt, pulling him back toward you with ease.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you mumble against his lips before returning the favor you asked of him. His eyes seemed to have shut long ago, an echo of a laugh rumbles in his chest as you tilt your head more to one side, you take the lead to deepen the kiss.

Technically, you didn’t lie to your mother about having a date: you and Sakusa made an impromptu one happen out of a need to hang out. Who knew it would have lead here to you breathing in his scent the longer he kept you there? The small of your back is supported by his arm snaking around you when you feel yourself arching backward, sighing hotly into his mouth, followed by a shortened playful bite on his end.

“Ack,” you chortle, pecking his lips once more. Your face is warm though as he gently pushes you forward mentioning you should go soon.

“I have practice in the morning,” he pecks your cheek when you’ve calmed yourself down enough.

“I-I see,” you nod, agreeing how you did not want to overstay your welcome. Gathering your things, just your phone and keys, he eventually escorts you to the front of his door.

“I’ll see you when I get home,” Sakusa says. There is a serious tone to his promise. It sounds almost threatening though, but you realize it’s part of his charm. You make a hand sign for him to bend down and as your lips press against the moles on his brow, you bid him good night when you see yourself out.

In the comfort of your own room, you trace your lips with your fingers, a wolfish smile on your face. On your left in a blank notebook, you write down the name of your neighbor. Next to that? You write down a few things you’ve noticed while making out with him in the kitchen. The top of the list in your eloquent handwriting says the following: S.Kiyoomi, 26, touch-starved, sir/praise kink. You definitely have your work cut out for you because as it stands, you’re going to be the one to guide him in your world.

The absolute payoff of this comes after you’ve seduced him in your bed. In your post glow, you lay a top of him. Your hair strewn across your back while his hands run through it. Sakusa’s wrists are currently freed from the silk shackles you knotted for him, all this because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself while at the party for Hinata’s birthday. It was supposed to be your first official outing as a couple, though you’re fairly certain you ought to have stayed at home because of how Sakusa wanted to devour you alive in the low cut number you wore. He might have mentioned at the club you were dressed to kill, but all he really had wanted to do was see how deep his knuckles could get before everyone at the VIP level would have noticed he was gone for too long in the bathroom hallway to “check up on YN.”

“Did my boy have fun being tied up?” you sheepishly asked him. You glance at the wrist with brazen marks he shows you with a slight pout. Your lips kiss the inside of his wrist apologizing for how tight you had made the knots.

“‘M sorry pretty boy,” you stifle a yawn.

“I bet you are,” his hoarse voice soothes your ears. “But we should properly get cleaned up now, yeah?”

“Only if you carry me to the tub and I get to wear that shirt you love so much.”

“Fine.”

The water in the bath was drawn and though you were extremely sore, you didn’t really have time to think about it since you were gently placed in said tub. Bubbles from the lavender bath bomb began to fizz. Behind you, Sakusa sat with his knees propped up on either side. He makes a complaint about how awkward he must look, but you shake your head saying this was well worth the experience of sleeping with him. You lean back, humming a tune of approval when he begins telling you his favorite moment of the night.

“Miya can’t wrap his head around you being with me,” his tone is one where he tries to swallow a mirthful chuckle.

“Meian and Bokkun couldn’t believe I exist either,” you hum, kissing his jawline. “Although, now that I think about it, Hinata was the only one who saw you video call me when you were on the way back from that away match…”

Sakusa rests his head atop yours mentioning it was great because no one else thought you had existed until then. Sure, the entire team sort of dared him to bring you along one night for post-celebratory drinks, but when he had refused, you inquired if your job was something he didn’t want them to ask you about. You had a brief disagreement over the subject, but you decided to finally give that part of your life a rest and to use the framed degree to go into what you had originally pursued from the start. Regardless, now your existence is proven to the team, you’re with Sakusa for as long as he’ll have you. And trust each other since both of you are standing, or in this case, sitting at the edge of an unconventional love affair.

Bonus:

Miya Atsumu stops by his teammate’s unit only to find Sakusa was not at home the following morning. In his hands, the setter has a togo bag from Onigiri Miya, as he scans the floor for another room. Alas he finds your front door only to have it answered by you. You, who is technically half dressed in nothing but an Oxford shirt Miya remembers Sakusa wearing, and boyfriend cut underwear, answers the door with a wide-eyed stare.

“H-hey YN-chan,” Miya’s mouth suddenly becomes hella dry.

“Sumu?” you are drowsy as you act a little more drowsy than normal. You stifle a yawn. “G’morning? Wanna come in?”

“Maybe later,” the blonde says. “Seems yer a bit busy…umm… here! Give these to yer boyfriend.”

“Mmk,” you lean against the door, your shirt dips to the side a bit causing honeyed eyes to stare slightly at your bare chest. The bruises left behind by his teammate’s lips were an indication of how much fun you seemed to have.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, shaking the back of his neck, blowing profusely apologizing for the intrusion.

“Who’s at the door?” Sakusa asks you from your kitchen.

“Atsumu,” you raise your voice, turning your face round to see a half naked boyfriend rummage around the kitchen. Sakusa nods a devilish grin on his face. He winks at you and though your lips turn into a toothy smile, you turn your attention back to your visitor.

“If you behave real nice, I’m sure Omi won’t mind if I break a brat like you…”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Sakusa almost feels jealous, almost. Only, he was curious to find out how his teammate would hold up against your techniques. He still is recovering from the number you did last night on his wrists and his back’s scratches were healing well. The love bites littering his neck and collarbones were deepening in color.

You wink as your guest soon discovers what you truly mean by that when you pull him inside to your domain, shutting the door behind the blonde. Whatever the implications may be, nothing could have delightfully prepared either athlete to witness just how many things might have turned your relationship to a more intriguing one.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #sora scribbles

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wishfullyeternal · 4 years

Text

Jack Sparrow x Reader- Tension

Words- 1,294

Warnings- Language

A/N- Thanks for the request, definitely broadened my horizons! I enjoyed writing it and hopefully I portrayed him correctly! As always, requests are open and I love you lovelies!

I don’t really have any specific plot, but there is an alarming lack of Jack Sparrow fan fiction out there, especially *good* Jack Sparrow fan fiction. Maybe if you could do something where he betrays the reader to teach them a lesson that could save their life one day and accidentally reveals he’s deeply in love with them and the whole thing is a farce? You don’t have to but I would really really appreciate it. Thank you!!!

"Captain Jack Sparrow I presume?" The man turned around, his beaded hair clacked against one another.

"The one and only," The man leaned on the cobblestone wall next to him, he kicked up sand and seemed drunk on some kind of alcohol. You learned Rum was his poison of choice. That was when you met the most eccentric pirate of your life, and quite possibly the last pirate you would ever meet, considering how many near-death experiences you had whilst sailing the seven seas with him. You got along fine though, besides the drunken arguments in the ship's hull that may have gotten a little out of hand. You may have almost thrown him overboard. He never lets you forget about it. At this point, you were stuck with him.

"Time to go to Swank, off of the Atlantic!" Jack went to the front of the ship and looked out to the endless ocean. You scoffed, he looked at you in confusion.

"What? Do you not want to go?" You laughed at him,

"Just a weird sounding island, don't you think? Sound like something from the year 2000..." Jack shook you out of your thoughts,

"This is not the time to daydream, we've got sailing to do!" He ran across the ship, moving parts and praying for the wind to take him the right way. In a few days' time, with the wind blowing all the right ways you arrived. Anchoring the boat the both of you ran out to the island Swank. It wasn't anything mesmerizing, but it was still nice to have your feet on solid land once in a while. The air was clear and the palm trees were shaking in the light wind. The crew had gone separate ways, planning to meet up tonight. You and the Captain, however, wanted to explore the desolate island. The eccentric drunkenness of Captain Jack Sparrow made him especially fun to go adventuring with. He would trip over rocks and stones, sometimes even talk to birds that ventured too close. You laughed at his stupidity as he looked back at you. You thought you saw him blush, but he quickly smiled and took your hand.

"Coming?" You nodded and he pulled you along with his callused hand. You ran with him until you spotted what seems to be a building. He stopped and hid behind a tree, you followed and did the same.

"Abandoned?" You asked him, Jack shrugged.

"There's only one way to find out," He lept over a fallen tree trunk, you trailing slightly behind. Looking at the structures he motioned for you to come closer.

"Abandoned indeed," You said.

"Well then, let's explore my friend!" He walked around the structures, looking into each one, finding nothing. You went ahead and right when you were about to look into one of the structures you felt something crack and you suddenly fell into a hole. You screamed in surprise. You heard loud footsteps and Jack was soon looking at you in the hole.

"Well, it seems someone has found something." He said, you crossed your arms.

"You gonna just stand there or help get me out?" He sighed and walked presumably to find something for you to climb out with. Although he took a lot longer than you thought, you began to call out for him once ten minutes had passed.

"Jack? Captain?" You began to yell,

"Jack, get over here! Help me out!" You heard footsteps coming towards the hole and sighed in relief.

It wasn't Jack.

"Who the hell are you?" The man pointed at you with a machete and dropped a rope.

"I would recommend you climb that now, wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to be killed."

Oh god. You thought.

"Where's my Captain?" The man snorted,

"You'll see him soon enough." You climbed out of the hole, but before you had a chance to run away he pushed you into the ground, sand and dirt filling your mouth. He roughly tied your hands together behind your back and lifted you up. He walked you to an unexplored side of the island. You saw Jack in the clearing, his hands also bound. The man sat you near him, but too far for you to plan anything. He looked over at you and gave you a slight smile, almost apologetically.

"Two pirates come across our island? What a surprise." People had begun to crowd around us, the man who captured us spoke, seeming to be the leader.

"So, what should we do with you two?" Jack spoke up,

"It's all her fault, I never wanted to land here, imprison her, not me." You looked at him with confusion.

"Lock her up, I did nothing wrong." You whimpered.

"Jack?" He didn't even bat an eye to you. The man used his machete to break the binds that held Jack.

"You may run free, but if I see your ship again, you won't be as lucky." Jack sprinted into the woods and slowly his footsteps faded away. You held your composure, even as they locked you away, presumably awaiting your execution.

The hours passed slowly, almost as slowly as the drips of water leaking from one corner of the room. You sat mostly in silence, listening to the rustling of leaves. You were just thinking, how could someone who you thought was a friend betray you? He didn't even seem to take a second look. You were disposable, that bastard. You rubbed your head, it was starting to get dark. Your hours were ticking by, but there was nothing you could do. You were alone, you were alone and scared. The only thing that lulled you the sleep was the dripping of the water.

Waking up with a start you heard the scraping of metal, going towards the door it was...Jack?

"Thought you'd need a little help," He smiled, you weren't happy though. He managed to break the lock and let you out. Then you both ran, ran until the ship appeared. Jack pulled up the anchor and sailed away from the island, sighing in relief.

"Why the hell would you do that?" You grabbed his shoulder, making him face you.

"Do what?" You pursed your lips,

"Blame me for everything?" He went to say oh but instead stayed in silence.

"I didn't want you to get hurt..." You raised one brow and motioned for him to continue.

"I wouldn't be able to stand myself if you had gotten hurt, so I had to let them imprison you, then get you out." You snapped at him,

"You betrayed me!" He sighed,

"It's time I tell you something," he handed the wheel to one of his shipmates and led you to the back of the ship, away from prying eyes.

"Listen, ever since I met you..." He smiled, remembering the memory.

"I've always wanted to be friends with you, you were strong and lively, much different than other ladies, plus the other ones didn't really take well with me." He smiled and took your hand in his. He seemed nervous, much unlike the eccentric pirate you knew.

"I love you," He looked away, afraid to see your eyes.

"I always have, even when we argue, I go to bed wanting to be beside you. I just can't live without you..." You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"Hey, I love you too, I always will. I couldn't live without my favorite Captain." He smiled at you and caressed your cheek. He brought you close and said,

"You were always my favorite," You smiled, then he kissed you, slowly and filled with years of pining tension. It was perfect, everything was perfect. You knew at that moment, everything was going to be okay.

#jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #pirates of the caribbean #fanfiction #fanfic #jack sparrow fanfiction #jack sparrow fanfic #jack sparrow x reader fanfic #jack sparrow x reader fanfiction #johnny depp #captain jack sparrow #davy jones #elizabeth swann

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nettlestonenell · 4 years

Photo

Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

· IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

· Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

· IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

· DOES Gaby have a German accent?

· Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration.

· If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

· How old was Gaby during the war?

· What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

· That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

· Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

· That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

· Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

· Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

· Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

· It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

· Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

· Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

· Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

· You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

o I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

· “He fixed the glitch.”

· Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

· “I left my jacket in there.”

· The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

Someone says “winkle” out.

· Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

· Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

· That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

· Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

· This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

· Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

· Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

· Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

· Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

· Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

· I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

· More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

· A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

· HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

· C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

· Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

· Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

· Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

· “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

· Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

· Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

· CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

#tmfu #tmfu 2015 #ilya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #henry cavill #armie hammer #alicia vikander #the man from uncle 2015 #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #i don't know what this film's tags are meant to be to keep it from popping up in the TV series searches Sorry

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