Prostitute Ace secretly whoring himself out from the Grey Terminal to make enough money to feed himself and Luffy without stealing. He starts making a name for himself among the nobles who sneak down for debauchery for his impeccable manners and discretion and starts getting smuggled up to be fucked in their clean estates instead of on a broken mattress.
He behaves long enough to tolerate the hour or two it takes for the rich bastards to get it up and messily cum all over his stomach or back, reminding himself it’s all for Luffy. Until one night he’s summoned to an estate a bit further inside the city, with an actual horse-drawn carriage waiting just past the gate to take him there. As he rings the doorbell, a growing dread seeps into Ace’s bones, only to be confirmed when a mustached man opens the door.
Outlook doesn’t recognize him with his heavy eye bags and toned limbs, but Ace recognizes him.
He half listens as Outlook gives the routine excuses for why he’s there as he escorts him up the stairs; his wife no longer satisfying his urges, “past her prime,” etc. etc. But all he can think about is Sabo. As they turn down a hall, a door catches Ace’s eye. The paint is scratched and neglected in sharp contrast to the rest of the pristine house with visible warps in the wood, as if it had been struck from the inside with a heavy object. The knob also looked as if it’d been tampered with several times, with extra locks along the side.
“What’s in there?” Ace asked before he thought better of it.
Outlook glances over and scowls like he stepped in dung. “Nothing,” he says sharply. “Just trash.”
Ace’s jaw pops with the force of him clamping it shut and falls back in step behind the man to the master bedroom. As soon as Ace steps inside, Outlook locks the door and undoes his jacket.
“Hands and knees, facing the wall,” he orders. Ace obeys, stripping down and climbing onto the bed in position. The noble wastes no time in mounting him like a dog, forcing himself in raw. He winces, unfortunately all too used to such rough behavior and endures it. The noble huffs and puffs as he awkwardly humps into him, his stomach impeding him from fully sheathing. It only takes 10 min for him to shotgun his watery spend into Ace’s guts. Finished, Outlook flipped onto his back and dotted his face with a handkerchief.
“Hmph. Was that all? You’re hardly worth the effort. I could find a better whore on this side of the wall for a better price,” he scoffed. “Go back to your dump.”
Ace’s blood boiled. He wasn’t going to walk away from having to fuck his sworn brother’s shitty father with nothing but a bruised ass and pride to show for it. Before he could react, Ace jumped on top of the noble, pining his shoulders down as he straddled him.
“W-What the hell are you doing?!” He balked.
“Giving you your money’s worth,” He deviously grins and drops down as low and fast as he can, spearing himself on the shaft to the point he can feel warm blood start to trickle down his thigh. Outlook gasps like a fish, his face reddening like a tomato as he desperately claws at Ace’s legs. He can feel his heartbeat skip through the dorsal vein, the tempo getting weaker and more erratic as the out-of-shape man struggles to endure a jungle kid’s stamina. As his eyes finally go hazy, Ace bottoms out and pulls their faces close.
“I hope Sabo gets to kick your ass in hell,” he hisses in his ear.
Outlook’s eyes go wide, recognition and anger twisting his pained face into an ugly mask.
“You—!! Hrgh!” He gasps and starts to spasm. Foam fizzles from the back of his throat as his balls sputter the last of their dregs up into Ace and his eyes roll back into his head. Outlook twitches once, twice, and falls still. Ace feels the cock stiffen before the warmth starts to fade and carefully pulls himself up. It’s an ugly sight: a lump of flushed skin splayed like a starfish across silk sheets, strands of blood trailing down his nostril and cock into quickly darkening pools. A fitting scene, in Ace’s opinion.
Without skipping a beat, he redresses and shoves every handful of jewelry and loose change he can find in the room into his pockets and slips out the door. He detours back to Sabo’s room and carefully picks the lock. The room is covered in a thick layer of dust, every piece of furniture left exactly where it was when he ran. Ace carefully circles the space, partly to not leave prints, partly to not disturb the heavy air around it. The caged windows make his skin crawl, his lingering anger at Sabo leaving without them chilling slightly as he takes in the physical marks of control all around. He pockets the journal on his desk and steals a small ruffled shirt from the dresser. It still smelled faintly of grass and pollen.
As soon as Ace gets home, he stashes his haul in the treehouse and wordlessly pulls a sleeping Luffy into a hug. He never answers another caller.
nsfw | sakuatsu | autofellatio | voyerism / exhibitionism | sub / dom undertones
atsumu was always a little aware of kiyoomi's flexibility, however he wasn't fully aware to the extent of just /how/ flexible he truly was, or it's potential. until now, that is.
they had been dating for not too long when they started getting more intimate. it was maybe a couple months after kiyoomi first joined msby, and then another couple months into seeing each other when they finally couldn't keep their hands to themselves any longer.
it should have been a fairly awkward first time together, but a little liquid courage made it one of the best firsts either had ever had.
tipsy and bold, the sex was so good that both of them knew they were probably going to be hooked for life. whether or not they would admit that at this point in their relationship though is still up for debate.
so, even though they haven't quite gotten to the 'i love you' stage of their dating adventure, atsumu very much loves his tall, bendy boyfriend.
kiyoomi's wrists are soft and pliable, his legs thick and articulate, and his spine almost like a fluid reed at times. it isn't until a good bit into their sexual explorations would kiyoomi bring up /how/ he would sometimes pleasure himself when alone.
atsumu hadn't even realize the potential of his boyfriend's flexibility until one early
saturday conversation.
"yeah, i've sucked myself off before."
kiyoomi didn't look up from stirring milk into his tea, but he could feel atsumu's wide eyes burning into the side of his head.
it was so casual atsumu almost didn't register what kiyoomi actually said.
"you…
kiyoomi was now beginning to think he's going to regret his confession. he looks up from his mug and atsumu's eyes are intensely dark, his face and neck overcome by a deep flush.
every person who happens to have a dick has tried to, or at the very least thought about it before. this certainly includes atsumu himself, though the attempt left him with a bruised ribcage and ego.
and now here before him was the love of his life in his kitchen casually admitting to be living one of his ultimate fantasies.
atsumu's breathing picks up and he moves forward to place a hand on the table next to kiyoomi's tea. his veins bulge and muscles tense up as he leans down to look closer into his boyfriend's eyes. a small blush blooms high on kiyoomi's cheeks.
he cranes his neck a little to look up at atsumu. his mind was racing with filthy visons and kiyoomi could see it in his gaze. the breath against kiyoomi's lips is hot and heavy.
'show me. please."
kiyoomi feels like he might not regret this after all.
///
"sit there," kiyoomi gestures vaguely to an upholstered arm chair. it faces towards the side of the bed, placed with intention. kiyoomi looks over to his golden boyfriend and smirks,
"and for a little fun, no touching yourself until i come, hm?" what a fucking menace.
atsumu obediently sits; still fully clothed in nice black jeans and a loose plain shirt. nothing fancy is really needed anyway. kiyoomi however strips out of his clothes fairly efficiently; all until his boxer briefs are so slowly pulled away from his long legs and atsumu flushes. kiyoomi's cock is long and rosy pink, and it suddenly feels all too real. this is really happening.
atsumu is looking at his boyfriend with new eyes and he can finally see how this might be possible. with a cutting side glace from kiyoomi, atsumu is very quickly becoming /very/ hard in his pants. kiyoomi flushes and looks away. god his boyfriend is pretty.
kivoomi kneels onto the bed and moves forward until he's facing the wooden headboard. he lays back and pulls his legs up above his chest with his hands against the back of his thighs keeping him up.
awkwardly scooting forward a little using his strong arm and back muscles, kiyoomi settles on his upper back, shoulder blades cutting into the bed. the back of his hips rest against the cool, flat headboard and his pretty cock head is kissing the skin of his torso just above the navel.
his strong, muscular stomach looks delicate and soft as it folds into itself, layers of flesh and fat giving way to lower his hips closer to his face.
a push of his hips forward and his cock bobs above his face, a breath away from his lips and usually where most flexible people would have already reached their limit. but atsumu's beautiful, bendable boyfried takes a deep breath in... then out...
relaxing his muscles further and using his stupid, sexy flexable hands to put more pressure against the back of his thighs.
atsumu holds his breath as he watches, knuckles turning white against his thighs.
the dewy tip kisses his bottom lip, then pulls away just a hair. precum keeps him connected to himself by a thread, but it is broken when kiyoomi pulls his cock back down to his mouth again.
his soft, wet lips engulf the rosy tip, licking against himself with short pets of his tongue. atsumu can't hold back his raspy breath,
"fuck, omi."
his dick is so hard it starts to feel good pressed up into his pants.
it's only a little, no more than two or three inches into his mouth, but it's more than enough to get kiyoomi worked up. a small blush pinkens his cheeks and chest as he takes a deep breath of his own musky scent.
kiyoomi lets out a short whine, muffled by his own cock on his tongue. it's as if he is slowly drowning himself into submission.
taking away one hand from his thighs, kiyoomi slowly strokes the shaft of his cock, giving needed stimulation to what he can't pull into his mouth.
atsumu echos his groans. neither of them really know how he's managed to stay still in the chair as long as he has. kiyoomi drags his hand lower on himself to massage and softly pull his balls as he continues to suckle himself into his warm his skin tastes clean, he notes; if not a little bitter and salty.
atsumu feels like he hasn't taken a breath in hours, eyes unable to move from kiyoomi's body, his lips, the shiny head of his cock against his own tongue.
kiyoomi's hips jolt, pushing himself another inch into his mouth and his whine makes atsumu leak a little into his boxers.
"fuck omi yer so hot."
atsumu's rough voice makes lightning crackle up kiyoomi's spine and his own whimpers gently vibrate against his skin, only helping to further push himself towards orgasm. his cock feels hot in his own mouth. his mouth feels so, so soft around his own cock.
it's so different when there is someone else watching him. all of his senses feel heightened, almost painful. but it still feels all too good to stop
his hips jolt again and the muscles in his abs tighten. he can feel it coming already.
he releases himself from his mouth with a small whine, bringing his hand back around his cock to quickly stroke himself right up to the edge.
his thighs are twitching, hips bucking down into his hand as atsumu watches sweat run down his temples to his dark curls. between pants and moans, atsumu can hear sighs of his name from kiyoomi's messy mouth.
"fuck- atsu, atsu astuatsu-" his belly tightens, abdomen rippling, balls drawing tight. cum beads up from the slit and finally spills over to drip down into his mouth. a ragged moan is ripped from his lungs, and savory, lucid cream pools onto his pink tongue as the muscle hangs limply from his parted lips.
heavy, wet breaths and hips that just wont stop fucking into his hand make his aim falter a little. some of it catches on his chin, slowly dripping down his neck to his collarbones. a small bit goes too far and splatters thick threads high onto his flushed cheeks.
as his high wanes, kiyoomi's mouth is thoroughly covered in his own cum. he lays in his afterglow prettily, displayed like a violent painting of lust.
atsumu can't fucking take it. his hard cock cuts against the seam of his jeans too deliciously.
as kiyoomi spills onto himself, atsumu gives in and presses his rough, burning hand over his hard on. with a few firm strokes against himself, he's spilling an embarrassing amount of cum into his underwear.
he lets out an animalistic groan that kiyoomi responds to with his own soft whine. atsumu's body is flushed warm from his belly to his face. his release seeps through his pants. a deep warm smudge, fully visible and shameless in his lap if kiyoomi were to look up for a second.
but kiyoomi is a little too preoccupied making a mess of himself to notice.
as the last threads of cum drip from his slit kiyoomi brings his tip back into his mouth, sucking the last of his release down his wet throat with many consecutive, little swallows.
he doesn't move his lips away from his burning red cock for a while, continuing to lick and tease his tip well past whimpering and gasping overstimulation. atsumu can't believe he is lucky enough to witness his boyfriend milking himself of every drop like a dying man.
he could probably die happy right about now.
finally, kiyoomi lets go of himself with a sharp whiny inhale that devolves into breathy moans as he lets himself fill his lungs with the cool air of the bedroom. they both don't move from where they sit for a while, just trying to catch their breath enough to see straight again.
atsumu moves from his seat for the first time since he was ordered into it. he crawls forward onto the duvet and leans down, breath tickling the curls lying against kiyoomi's forehead.
looking back up at him, albeit still upside down and his lower back against the headboard, kiyoomi suddenly feels a rush of embarrassment that twists his gut.
atsumu either pretends not to notice or truly doesn't care, and leans in to press wet kisses to kiyoomi's mouth, tasting him from his own lips. his tongue is ravenous, licking deeply into kiyoomi until he just might pass out from a lack of sufficient air.
when atsumu releases him, kiyoomi is a little cross eyed as he tries to focus his vision on atsumu's face. they both just breathe in each other for a moment.
"fuck yer so pretty."
"god, i love you
the heavy, warm air between them is silent for a beat.
"huh?!?!?"
"if you missed it the first time you're out of luck, i'm not going to say it again.
"nuh uh, no way did ya just beat me to the first 'i love you'!"
"do you have to turn everything into a competition???"
It’s an ao3 adaptation of a Twitter thread fic about modern day blackbonnet+crew, and it’s absolutely magical. The author did a great job characterizing and I really loved how the story played out!! I highly recommend it. The story gets explicit towards the end, if necessary those sections are very easy to skip while still understanding the plot if you want to. No notable trigger warnings other than sexual content and bird violence. It’s a LOT tamer than the show lol. Let me know if I should tag anything else! Pls leave kudos on it if you like it.
—
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships:
Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet (focus of fic)
Oluwande Boodhari/Jim Jimenez
Black Pete/Lucius Spriggs
Characters: Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Oluwande Boodhari, Jim Jimenez, Black Pete (Our Flag Means Death), Lucius Spriggs, Roach (Our Flag Means Death), Buttons (Our Flag Means Death), Wee John Feeney, Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), "Calico" Jack Rackham, Israel Hands, The Swede (Our Flag Means Death), Mary Allamby Bonnet, Alma Bonnet, Louis Bonnet
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Stede Bonnet Loves Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Loves Stede Bonnet, Idiots in Love, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe-English Canals, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary: Recently out and divorced Stede Bonnet buys a canal side pub and narrowboat, despite having zero experience with either. Along with his rag tag pub staff and the boys from the boat works across the canal, he's carving out a little space where he feels he belongs. Ed Teach, a blues pianist who's lived on his narrowboat in London for years, is burnt out from a long tour and a bitter break up. He decides a boat trip North is just what the doctor ordered to clear his head and find the music again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
(This is NOT my fic!!!! Do not give me credit for it!!!! I just enjoyed reading it enough to want to share with the class.)
Stevie Harrington has always known what it's like for people to want her, to watch her when she walks down the halls of Hawkins High. She's the head cheerleader, the Queen, as much as she doesn't actually *care* about that title, and the school is backwards enough that it does matter to a lot of the other students.
Half of the time she likes it, the respect she gets, the guys who compliment her, stuttering, eyes dropping to the way her tops barely restrain her breasts (those are the boys she allows to take her on dates, take her home and fuck her). The rest of the time it's looks, and wolf whistles, and vulgar comments about her tits that make her want to draw back into herself.
The girls are more discrete, their eyes linger but don't stay, and they blush and stutter when Stevie talks to them. With them it's not public dates, it's fumbling in the dark in locked rooms at parties or closets at school and Stevie hates it. She wants to take these pretty girls out on dates and treat them, but they’re too shy or whatever.
When Billie Hargrove arrives at Hawkins High in September 1984 she disrupts the status quo, roaring in in her blue Camaro, all golden curls and California tan. She joins the cheer squad and immediately dominates the team. Stevie is jealous, and angry with the taunts and the way Billie presses up against her when they practice, provocative and teasing for reasons Stevie can’t understand.
Billie has some kind of angry hard-on for annoying her it seems, and Stevie just wants to get through the last year of high school as easily as she can. It also frustrates her that she finds the other girl so attractive, that as much as she pisses Stevie off she still wants her attention, wants Billie to take her out, would happily follow her into any room at a party.
Billie watches from the entrance to the pool, feeling a little creepy, as Stevie clambers out of the water, tantalising drops dripping down her decolletage to disappear beneath the scoop neck of her one-piece between the breasts the fabric can hardly contain. Billie swallows hard, rubbing her thighs together for a little friction as Stevie turns and heads for the showers, offering her a fantastic view from behind.
She waits a few minutes, debating herself on whether she should follow Stevie into the showers or not, but her animal hindbrain, that part of herself she can never quite shut up, takes over, and her feet carry her into the locker rooms before she can consider it any more.
Stevie is out of the shower by the time Billie enters the locker room, nearly too-small towel wrapped around her still damp body, hair dripping wet onto her shoulders.
Billie swallows, arousal thick in her throat, “Harrington,” she greets once she’s close, nearly pressing Stevie back into the lockers when she spins to face her, eyes wide.
“Hargrove,” Stevie’s voice is steel-boned and her brow furrows as she looks down at Billie. Her hazel eyes are wide and she’s biting her lip and Billie wants to get her teeth in that pillowy flesh herself.
----------
Stevie’s not really sure how they got here. Her bare back is pressed against the cold lockers behind her, and she’s clutching her towel close beneath her exposed breasts. Her nipples are hard and so sensitive, puffy and red from Billie’s mouth and fingers, and she’s got shivers running up and down her body in the chill of the room.
She’s never felt so hot though.
Billie drops to her knees in front of Stevie, encouraging her to widen her stance with a muttered “sweetheart” that makes Stevie blush with how she clenches and more wetness gushes from her already soaked pussy at the degrading tone.
She buries her face between Stevie’s legs, hands wrapped tight around her thighs, holding her apart as she dives straight in. Billie presses a line of kisses up her inner thigh, working her way towards Stevie’s dripping cunt, throbbing with need when Billy dives in headfirst, licking a thick stripe from her hole to circle her tongue over Stevie’s clit.
“Hargrove!” Stevie pants, hips jolting forward into the gentle circles Billie’s laving over the pulsing bundle of nerves.
Billie pulls back for a second, blue eyes dark with lust, a smirk on her plush lips, “call me Billie, pretty girl.”
“Shut up and get back to it,” she moans, clenching her hand in Billy’s shaggy blonde hair and pulling her back in.
Billie goes easy and eager, wasting no more time on teasing or light touches, sucking her clit into her mouth with a groan that Stevie echoes, not even considering the possibility of anybody hearing them.
“God, that’s it, blondie,” Stevie whines, thighs shaking with each hard suck, biting her lip again to try and hold back the loud noises she’s making.
She can feel Billie smirk against her as she moves both her hands, sliding two fingers straight into where Stevie is wet and aching. They go so easily Stevie’s so turned on and she moans Billie’s name loud and unabashed into the cool air of the locker room, pushing her pussy hard against Billie’s talented tongue.
Billie’s other hand disappears between her own thighs and Stevie can hear how wet she is when she slides her fingers into herself, fucking them in at the same rhythm as she’s fucking Stevie. Stevie whimpers, letting go of Billie’s hair so she can pinch and pull at her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure rushing through her body.
“You close, babygirl?” Billie murmurs into her pussy, the vibrations making Stevie clench around her fingers with a loud moan.
“So close! Fuck! Please, Billie !”
Billie speeds up the pace with her fingers, curling them on each stroke to drag along that spot inside that no one else has ever managed to find, drawing hard circles on Stevie’s twitching clit with her tongue.
Stevie nearly screams as she comes in pulsing waves around Billie’s fingers, crying out her pleasure to the ceiling. Her cheeks flush red as she realises she’s squirted, gushing over Billie’s tongue. Billie doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact she moans eagerly, lapping everything up that Stevie will give her as she shakes through her own orgasm, knees spread wide on the hard floor so she can get the perfect angle to fuck herself.
Stevie stares bleary-eyed at the ceiling, panting and delirious still from the pleasure, chest heaving as she comes down. Well, they were definitely doing this again, whatever this was.
This was posted and written for @wrecked-fuse on twt originally
A baby gets left on Steve's doorstep and what can he say except "well, guess I'm a dad now".
Steve tries to find the parents, really he does, but it's not easy and he knows the system is terrible.
Knows the way the government treats children in their care.
He wouldn't do that to anyone, especially not a child that's been left in his care. A baby left swaddled, tiny and defenceless on his doorstep in the dead of night. No way in hell, or the Upside Down, would he abandon it.
He carries the baby, gentle and slow into his house, the house his parents abandoned him in, and determines that this baby, this child left in his care will not be abandoned ever again.
She's so small when he unravels her from the soft blanket she's wrapped up in, cradling her gently against his chest - he's impressed she's managed to stay asleep through his fumbling - as he carries her across the small bathroom to the tub he's filled with an inch of lukewarm water. She wriggles as he lowers her in, cradling her carefully, her tiny head cupped in his large hand. Her eyes blink open and she whines, little fists waving in the air, but she doesn't start screaming or crying, much to Steve's surprise. It's a little worrying, something he sets aside to think about later because he would have expected a baby to react a lot more strongly.
She's a little angel the rest of the night, cooing quietly as Steve dries and dresses her (adding buying clothes to the increasingly long to do list in his head). He curls up in bed that night with her cuddled close to his bare chest (he'd read somewhere it was good for bonding so fuck it he's gonna do it), sleeping so lightly that he blinks awake with every little snuffle she makes, nervous and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
That night he resolves he'll make all the appropriate calls in the morning, but when morning comes he doesn't, and he still doesn't for days and days.
He does research, extensive and at the damn library, trying to find out if anyone's lost their child or something nearby, but nothing ever shows up.
By the time Robin coaxes him out of his self-isolation with Stacy (yes he'd named her, he couldn't very well go around just saying baby all the time could he?! Even if it was just them alone in the Harrington household), he's already decided that she's his. She's his daughter, his baby girl, and nothing and no-one is going to get in the way of him being the best fucking dad in the goddamn country.
Robin only needs one look at the small tyke curled sleeping in Steve's arms - her dark skin still flushed a little after the tantrum she'd finished having about two minutes before, the few coils of brown hair curling soft on her head, her cute button nose, and the little fist she has curled around Steve's - to know her best friend has lost his heart to the tiny girl.
"Meet your new niece, Robin," Steve says with a grin, "she's called Stacy." Steve passes Stacy gently into Robin's arms and watches her fall in love with his baby just as quickly and easily as he had.
