#duality drabble

[dualityvn]

I dunno if anyone asked this, but could you please write a drabble for UT!Tenebris x MC?

A Milkshake and A Night Under The Stars (UT!Tenebris x GN!Reader)

This was slightly inspired by valentinax3's ask about making a deal with Tenebris. Enjoy!

× × ×

"What is this one?"

"It's a chocolate milkshake. You drink it through this straw. The little tube poking out at the top," you explain to the creature eyeing the cup in your hand. "Wanna try it?"

As one arm reaches out, it morphs into a human one so it can easily grab the treat you've brought him. He hesitates as he brings it to his face and leans in to sniff it. He must not find anything suspicious because quickly after, he sips from the straw.

"Do you like it?"

The many eyes light up with delight. You've seen them do that every time you presented him with a new type of sweet treat. Each time, you find it very cute. Something so big and scary is obsessed with sweets.

"It's good. Very sweet, just like the rest. But I'm beginning to discern between them... What will we do in exchange for it?"

Some time ago, you'd made a deal with "the monster in the forest." You'd bring him the sweets he'd grown so fond of and in exchange, he'd let you get to know him. It was a deal that had perplexed him at first. He couldn't see why you'd want such a thing. Yet he'd accepted nonetheless.

"Since it's nighttime and the sky is clear, I was thinking we could stargaze."

"Very well. I appreciate that this one does not involve other humans."

He brings the straw back to his mouth. You watch the contents of the cup being drained at an impressive speed. Within mere seconds, it's empty. He hands it back to you and you store it away in your backpack.

"I mean, I was thinking we could do it from the top of one of the buildings in the city. The forest is kinda dense for it," you explain.

Half a dozen eyes narrow at you. "No. There is a large clearing deeper in. We're going there, where it is quiet and dark. Your loud vehicles and blinding lights would no longer bother us."

Under different circumstances, going deep into the forest with a monster would be a terrible idea. But if he wanted to harm you, he would've done it many times by now. So you take the risk.

"Okay, fair enough. How do we get there?"

He turns his back to you, then crouches down. "It will be too slow if I let you walk. Get on my back."

You pause, caught by surprise. He's never allowed you to touch him this much before. When you'd tried, he'd move away or snarl at you. Still, you aren't about to refuse the offer. You climb on and wrap your arms around his neck.

His skin is cold, but his hair feels soft as it brushes against your cheek. He smells like grass and honey. The lizard tail and his hunched position help keep you in place once he takes off.

You now see why he suggested you'd be slow. It wasn't an insult, it was a fact when you compared it to the speed he was running at. He wasn't only fast. He was also agile. You never once got smacked by any branches or bushes.

"Am I heavy?" you ask.

"Heavy? You come nowhere close to it. Not to me, at least."

You're not sure if even ten minutes have passed before he comes to a stop and lowers himself again to put you down.

The clearing he spoke of is indeed big. The stars are much more beautiful here, compared to the city. They look like glitter spread over dark fabric. You can't help but smile looking at it.

"You're right. This is much better."

He huffs as he plops down onto the grass with a loud thud. "Of course I am."

You suppress a chuckle and join him.

You'd noticed earlier, but now you have time to inspect him properly. He's dressed up. An intricate necklace resembling golden branches with precious stones instead of fruits hangs over his chest. A similar golden arm band matches one around his tail. And he's wearing pants. Something he didn't do the first time you'd met him in this form. He'd kept in mind you weren't a fan of complete nudity.

Three eyes shift to look at you questioningly. "I thought we came here to look at stars. Why are you staring at me?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking you look nice."

The eyes widen, then quickly look away. You get the impression he's flustered.

"Shouldn't this form frighten you? Why do you always ask me to stick to it instead of the human ones?"

"I like it. And you said the human form takes effort to maintain. I want you to be comfortable," you respond.

He only lets out a grunt and reverts his attention to the sky. You do the same.

You don't know a lot about stars. He does. So you ask a lot of questions. He answers each one without complaint. And when you both lay on your backs to get a better view and you scooch a little closer until your shoulders touch, he doesn't push you away.

It's pleasant. You feel oddly at peace. His voice is deep but soothing. Accompanied by the sounds of crickets and frogs, it begins to lull you to sleep. Your eyelids become heavy. As they close and you drift off to a land of dreams, you feel something brushing away a few strands of hair from your face.

[fbfh]

while we’re on a jason grace spree i’m js thinking about how pretty he would look while u jerked him off like head thrown back whining groaning eyes squeezed shut i need him so bad

YOOOOOO FUCK YES. Jason loves nothing more than following your orders, being obedient to you. He is dogmatically obedient and loyal to your every word, even if it's the hardest thing he's ever done. Even if he doesn't think he can actually do it, he's still going to. Like when you tell him to lay down and stay still so you can jerk him off. His cock is fucking huge and meaty and contrary to popular belief he is in fact uncircumcised. So you have this big glowing tan blonde supermodel with a henti dick that's already gushing like a Capri sun for you, which means OBVIOUSLY you have to have a little fun with him. You jerk him off so slowly, squeezing his shift and teasing his overly sensitive tip with your tongue. He actually prefers it slow like that because he knows if you went any faster he probably would black out. You trace your fingers along the veins throbbing with each beat of his pounding heart, you watch him grip the sheets so hard he rips them. Every stifled, desperate noise that slips out, every panting breath and heavy swallow brands itself into your memory. It's so hard not to just deep throat him then and there, as hard as it is for him to keep still for you. But as you and Jason will both come to find, the harder the task the better the payoff.

[whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan]

🎱 I wish I could’ve been sweet, but you made me do this… 🎱

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: A game of pool quickly became something else, and now you have to deal with the consequences.

✎ CW: Bondage/restraint, biting, blood, a little touch of consensual non-consent, another touch of predator/prey, fingering, unprotected sex, (rough) nipple play

✎ Word count: 2,126

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“I told you…” he begins.

The room is silent again, except for soft thumps of dress shoes on hardwood, plastic ceiling fan blades slicing air, and deep, unsteady exhales.

“I told you what would happen if you talked back to me, didn’t I?” Chan asks.

His big hands are tucked away in his pockets as he circles the pool table. He walks slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes on the floor. He hasn’t looked at you in minutes.

“But you… and that mouth,” he says, stopping at the end of the table to roughly plant his hands on the wood. “That fucking mouth of yours…”

Murky eyes stare directly into yours now. But they’re not his usual syrupy brown, no, they’re almost completely black. And the way his upper lip twitches is different, too. He’s angry, and he’s hungry for something dark.

He places a knee on the table and hoists his body up, moving his hands forward onto the felt. Then he’s on all fours, slowly crawling toward you, bound and gagged at the center of it all.

Pool balls surround you, and he’s careful not to let them get in his way. When he finally reaches you, he leans in close, letting his hot breath coat your cheek.

“The rules were very simple,” he hisses. “Be good, and you’d get rewarded.”

He lowers his big, pink lips to your neck and kisses gently.

“But, be a bad girl…” he hums into your skin. “And you’d be punished. Isn’t that right?”

Your “yes” is muffled by the ball gag, but it’s clear enough.

“So… what punishment do you deserve for talking back to me? For not showing me one of your pretty tits when I asked you to… when I told you to?”

His big fingers lightly wrap around your neck before traveling down, down to your chest, where he fiddles with the cup of your bra.

“Well, I think I definitely get to see them now. Maybe even pinch, maybe even bite a little… don’t you think?”

The moan that travels up your throat is born from a mix of excitement and fear.

He reaches behind you to undo the clasp, then uses the available slack to lift the bra up and over your head so the cups rest on your back. Your arms are tied from the elbow down, so there’s no hope to remove the garment completely.

“Ahhhh,” he breathes, marveling at the newly exposed flesh in front of him before gripping one nipple between finger and thumb. “So perky, so hard…”

He twists the raised nub with the pads of his fingers slowly, keeping his lips on your neck and sucking gently at first. But then they pull back and teeth pinch the thin skin, drawing a soft grunt from behind your lips.

“What was that, princess?” he asks. “Want me to bite you more?”

Your tiny yelp could signal yes or no, but you aren’t entirely sure which. And he doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“Bite your tits? Oh, I can definitely do that.”

And before you can even make a sound, his teeth close on the skin above your nipple, biting hard enough to leave a mark. Then he shifts to the left and does it again, but even harder this time.

He pinches and pulls at the nipple still between his fingers as his mouth finds the other, first circling it with his tongue before baring his teeth once more and biting down roughly.

Another groan is stifled by the gag, and you can do nothing to help or hurt the situation except pull at the shirt wrapped around your arms.

“Mmmm,” he moans around your breast. “You taste so good. Let’s see if I can make you bleed.”

He bites again, then again, then again, before you hear a tiny crunch and feel a sharp sting.

“There we go…”

Just a few drops of blood seem to satiate him because he sits back and releases his hold on you completely.

“Oh, my love,” he says and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before rubbing his thumb back and forth on your cheek. “I wish I could’ve been sweet. But you made me do this…”

He rotates you so he can untie your arms, but you’re not completely free from your restraints just yet.

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms over your head, and he wraps the shirt around your forearms once again. There’s barely time to take another breath before his hand drops to grip your neck tightly, and he forces you onto your back. Billiard balls don’t allow you to lie flat, but that doesn’t stop him from pressing you into the table.

“Comfortable?” he sneers, but he knows you’re not. He knows your face, and the lowered brows, wrinkled nose, and tightly closed eyes are more than enough for him to interpret.

“Here… let me help.”

He reaches beneath your back and grabs a ball, the black 8, and holds it above your face.

“Hmmm, but what do we do with this now?” he asks himself. “We have to put it down somewhere, don’t we?”

The cold ball touches your chest right as his voice cuts off. Guided by his firm hand, it rolls over your ribs and up the mounds and back down again, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

He hums and sighs as he directs that ball around and down, past your stomach and your hips to your thighs, before coming back up again and following the same path down. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth but shortening its distance on each trip. Just biding time until it finally settles at its equilibrium.

“I wonder if I could fit this inside you,” he wonders aloud, his eyes filled with curiosity and mischief staring at your bare skin.

Chan places the ball safely on your stomach before spreading your legs and inserting a finger, then two, then three.

“Hmmm, already so wet, so ready. If only I could bury my cock in you instead…”

He adds a fourth finger and spreads them, seeing just how far you’ll stretch for him. The wicked grin that spreads across his lips just then must mean something good.

“Oh, we could definitely get this in you,” he muses. “Tuck this right up inside your tight pussy. Would you like that?”

You only stare blankly in response, unsure if you would or not. Probably… but…

“But that wouldn’t be much fun once it’s in,” he decides. “We need something to…”

He roughly pumps all four fingers in and out in time with his words.

“Make. You. Whine.”

Just then, something behind you seems to catch his attention, and his eyes start to glow in the light. He hops off the table and quickly returns to your side, pool stick in hand.

Your eyes widen once you realize what it’s for, and every single muscle tenses in fear. You mumble incoherently, forgetting the safe word in the heat of the moment. But it’s enough, because Chan’s excited expression immediately turns to pure panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, holding your cheek in one hand and undoing the gag with the other. “I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”

The gag falls to the table and is quickly replaced by his mouth. He wets your chapped lips with his tongue and kisses gently before pulling back.

“I love you. We don’t have to do that, okay?” he whispers. “Do you still want to…?”

You nod slightly, and he smiles and kisses your nose. Chan drops the cue stick on the ground and sweetly kisses your hair before unbuttoning his slacks and dropping them and his boxers to the floor.

He climbs back onto the table and settles on his knees. His hands work at untying the knot around your arms, then he places his hands on either side of your head.

“Maybe you’ve endured enough, yeah?” he says, stroking your hair. “Maybe it’s time for me to just… adore you.”

He lifts your back and scatters the balls so you can rest comfortably. Then his fingers gently run along your side — soft enough to tease, but hard enough to avoid making you ticklish.

It’s been so long since you felt his loving touch, and you can’t help but moan softly. He takes those sighs as cues for where to apply more pressure as he goes, though he knows exactly where to head.

Two fingers enter you gently, and he exhales between lips spread into a pleased grin.

“Oh, my girl…” he whispers. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His crooked fingers leave as fast as they came and grip your ass instead, lifting your hips off the table. The balls of your feet instinctually find the felt and prop up your lower body while he positions himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, his leaking cock less than an inch away from where you need it the most.

You nod and look down to watch as he slides in. His eyes squeeze shut as more and more of him disappears inside you.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, oh my…”

His grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, faster and faster, until he’s pounding in and out of you so quickly you can barely catch your breath between strokes.

He angles your hips up just a little more to hit that perfect spot with every thrust, and you can’t help it. Your thighs start to quiver, making your whole body unsteady. Chan may be strong, but even he’s struggling to maintain a decent pace and keep you still.

“I’m… gonna… flip you… ok?” he exhales between strokes.

And then he does — with unexpected ease. He rotates your hips and holds you upright until you can support yourself on your hands and knees, then he sinks into you again.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is even louder from this angle, loud enough to drown out both of your moans. And though you can’t hear him, you know he is.

You can feel his groans and sighs as they vibrate from his throat, through his chest, down his arms. Like the energy transfers from his fingertips to your hips, igniting fire in your veins.

“Chan… nie…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Gonna…”

“You close?” he breathes, barely getting the words out. “Hold on.”

He pulls out and flips you onto your back again.

“I wanna… see you,” he explains between shaky inhales. “You’re so… beautiful.”

You feel his fingertips on your glistening cheek, and his honey eyes hold your gaze as he fills you up again.

Chan presses his pillowy lips into yours and moans into your mouth. And, god, his sounds are so delicious.

He plants his elbows on the table on either side of your head and laces his fingers together above you. He’s not tossing you around anymore. And he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, not with your arms encircling his neck and your legs tightly wrapped around his hips. This is it.

A few thrusts later, you’re there. And he’s close. He can feel you clench around him, and that tightness, that pressure. A few more pumps into that wet heat has him unraveling, too, and he breaks the kiss to try to form a cohesive thought.

“Fuck. You’re, you’re. F-fuck. You’re so… perfect.”

He empties himself deep inside you as he speaks, but it’s not enough. You need his lips, his mouth, to possess him completely.

You raise your neck to connect lips once again, and he returns the favor with passion. His kiss is so intense, so deep, like he’s trying to claim you and keep you right back.

“I’m yours,” you pant into his lips.

“I know,” he exhales, returning the air to your lungs. “And I’m yours.”

Mouths reattach as you ride out your highs, and the give and take continues well past the aftershocks. You just can’t get enough of his mouth; you could do this forever.

Minutes pass, and you can feel him shrink between your legs. Of course, neither of you could give a fuck. Wrapped in each other’s limbs like this is everything — absolutely everything.

Chan finally pulls back to breathe after who knows how long, and his swollen lips immediately pull into a warm smile.

“I love you,” he whispers once, then again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His smile, his love is so infectious, you’d return it even if you weren’t already drowning in raw affection for him.

“I love you,” you whisper back. “Thank you.”

Somehow, his smile widens even more, and you swear you see a thousand sunrises, a million stars, a billion fireworks exploding in his eyes all at once.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he lightly strokes your cheek. “Everything for you.”

[paint-it-red-and-black]

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

Max hears it often. he picks up the phrases chirped by the girls around. it was said by fans, PR managers and once he had even heard it from a Ferrari mechanic. and Max totally and utterly disagrees.

Charles is no angel. on and off the track.

he is a bloody menace.

because angels don't look like that. with a slight squint when there's a storm brewing in the depths of green eyes in the middle of a sunny day.

angels don't get so angry you're afraid to approach. angels don't hold grudges. angels are quick to forgive.

angels don't smile like that. smirking, a little arrogant, covering it with their innocence. and showing a little of the soft tip of the tongue between their teeth.

angels are measured. they take their time. they are neat and tidy. they never make a mess of crumpled sheets and clothes.

angels are gentle. angels never squeeze skin until it bruises, bite until it darkens, or pull hair so hard it brings tears to the eyes.

and even more so, angels don't moan. not painfully, but sweetly, like melted chocolate with marzipan that leaves marks on your fingers. hot. frank. naked. absolutely wasted.

angels don't expose their necks, don't bare collarbones, giving more space for someone’s lips to leave marks.

angels don't press closer, scratching back until it’s bleeding. angels don’t choke on passion and never create their own.

but he falls asleep in the most angelic way. with his nose against Max's neck and the blanket pulled up to his eyes. he throws an arm and a leg over the body next to him, pulls closer, smiles warmly, and lowers his long fluffy eyelashes.

people easily fall for it.

"oh, Charles, you're such an angel."

but Max knows that Charles isn't an angel at all. he's a real demon in the flesh. but it's much easier to love him like that.

[miupow]

how would you guys feel about me maybe making a patreon or a kofi …? if anyone would actually be a patron they’ll get the fics early before i post them and can help me proofread/edit ., and then i’d also make exclusive content though i’m not sure what. maybe add on fics to my other fics ?

[rafent]

𖥔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𖥔

* fell child mastery drabble

' Only like this did end seem as beginning; she-twin, he-twin, Nel and Rafal the corruption of some adam and some eve. '

...

Always did our Child gaze at angels, the heavens of Gradlon never remiss in them.

Dreamy eyes tracked the flights of bat-winged cherubs burning bright, sisters and brothers fulsomely fledged, their scales in wonderful midnight array. They couldn't be less like him; Rafal son of dragons, yet unable to fly.

Rafal named for wind, but unfit for wings.

- ✶ -

Often the flightless one braced his fingers against the sky.

On clear days, it was filled with many siblings. He couldn't match them in their transformations, so instead he imitated their aeronautical exercises the best he could. He climbed to the peak of the highest rock just to jump down. As he bruised on the pits at the craggy base, he clung to the belief that one day such reckless falls would awaken flight. A fool's placebo reconciling him to the unattainable, but it wasn't longing he insisted, it was training.

Other times the method was different. When he bit into raw meat he thought that he’d wake up the next day, a little more changed, a little more dragonlike. The snake he found flattened on the road weighed so light between his hands. It went so heavy down his throat he retched it back up.

It wasn't longing he insisted, it was training.

Rafal insisted, wanted, blistered, sometimes cried. He exhausted his options, his little legs and weary mind, but there was no training he could do for the second thing he really, truly wanted. Maybe that thing he desired just that little bit more. Flightless and twinless, he watched those gamboling children in the clouds.

Always flown in pairs.

- ✶ -

Always did our Child gaze at devils, the hells of Gradlon never remiss in them.

Many behaved as they were created to be; selfish, yearning, wanting, destined for more. Countless fledgling devils of Sombron and each a growing supernova that burned in the greater scheme of his galaxy, where many would die, and others would shine brighter, where that decision was decided by the violent expansions of others or the sanguinary excellence of oneself.

Only blood natural, only power law.

"Failure. You looked at me just now, didn't you? It feels disgusting, you know. Being stared at by someone like you."

"I di–" I didn't.

—crunch.

A sane and lawful beating because only power was law. The other godling wiped his blood off his cheek, never mind that it was shared. Especially because shared. Even afterward his eyes still glowed with calculation, like he were the master, the king, the one who decided every fate weaker than his own. He and all others - he and all siblings who brought Rafal one heartbeat closer to madness in the healthy circulation of their own minds, and the rightful stretch of their wings.

- ✶ -

Ancestor; Three Houses; Brash General; Lonely Heir; Strategist; Doting Sister; Shepherd Exalt. Seven archangels sprung from people's fervent yearning. An eighth for whom Rafal would kneel, pray, and yearn equally if only asked. Awaiting them at the promised crossroads that was, to him, all but promised land.

"Were you waiting long?"

Not really, he said of minutes, stretching an hour from his limbs. The statue encased in stillness until anticipated thaw, the loyal dog not once derelict across winter storm or summer scorch, he sat under the same barren tree without counting the time, for only one reason. Because there was no place he would rather be than their spot of promise. Two to meet here.

Lamb who could never be devil, petal-soft hand entered his, a shy smile for him. Always did Rafal gaze at an angel.

Nil was his name.

- ✶ -

The bruised and haunted eyes with which 'Nil' enters Lythos eventually abates, replaced by shy welcome of the new garden and the new company, even so skittishly clinging to Nel, to his tree, and to the place at her side he must convince others he has always known. Deceive Nel, Nil asks in parting, and Rafal obeys. Deceive Nel, Father orders in parting, and Rafal...obeys.

For many years, for some centuries, it has been Nel and Nil. That it still was, if now also come to several more pairs; they and the Divine One, they and Zelestia, and now Nil and his fruits. Peaches for example were only grown in Lythos, and pink, peachlike Nil finds lush bounty in lieu of arid scarcity agreeable - finds a place here.

Half-bitten fruit nesting in one hold, he used the other to turn a page. Reading on that bench of a sunny patch, there was peace in paradise, even if he knew it wasn't for an imposter. Even if he balked to sleep alone without Nel, nightmares of not yet severed reality startling him awake with a whimper. Gradlon though out of sight did not fail to be totally gone. The serpent planted its whispers, coiled curse heavy over his heart.

—someday, you'll betray this eden.

Peach finished, the apple this time.

- ✶ -

Apocalypse; Eschaton; Ragnarok; serpent-fulfilled prophecy and world's end by any chosen name. The Fell Heir with his scarred ambitions and his belated ascension with none to weather his squall. Rafal meaning gust, and only his breaths flowed through his desolate planet. Rafal named for wind, and his Four Winds departed on divine ark, he the fifth to stay behind for his sins. Peace like the crack of a whip for his kind that halcyon dreams did not suit, and yet there was some of it, perhaps, at the edge of existence.

Only like this did end seem as beginning. Kings and laws and civilizations lost their once tightly clutched meaning, as if everything were simply returned to the cosmic dust from which they had sprung millions of years ago. A fresh and bloodless slate by every last drop of blood corrupted.

Only like this did end seem as beginning; she-twin, he-twin, Nel and Rafal the corruption of some adam and some eve. He sinful, she faithful. They who shed the patterns of old bloodied testaments; they, new age twins born not by womb but reborn by choice.

Only like this, at both end and beginning, he awakened, understood to where and for why his cogs ought turn. Brother bled of his foolish curse by sister's veins, for another twin once more he sat, and once more he waited. Loyal beside her, not once derelict across winter storm or summer scorch, every day he looked after Nel. Every night he looked to the stars where Nil was watching in that true promised land.

- ✶ -

Always did our Child gaze at angels.

Caped in seraph feathers and forsworn of serpent scales, one remarkable Fell Child who showed they could with red and blue, once black and now white, all at once be divine. Their hand extended to another who had once lost his way: our Child, no longer powerless and ravaging to be strong; our Child no longer blinded, reaching for Gradlon to heal where Gradlon had burned.

Rafal whose final paradox breathed within the failed lungs of his world: that by twilight there was, finally, dawn.

"Welcome to you both," divinity welcomed. "It really is a lovely morning."

...

「 RAFAL 」 has mastered: Fell Child

[chanshoesunite]

24 Days of CHRISMAS: Day 17

Content info: Chan is a hot pole dance instructor and YNnie has the hots for him

Word count: 1564

Warnings: mentions of masturbation (well, YN is a thirsty hoe)

Maybe you’ve died and moved on to Heaven, but Chan’s naked torso pressed against your back as he checks your grip on the pole suggests just that.

Pole dancing has been your hobby for only a few short months, but it’s become a major source of enjoyment for you in that brief time. It’s not only the workout per se, but the space, frequented almost exclusively by women, that makes you feel empowered, being able to use your body in a sexy way without having to fear men’s gazes upon you.

That is, until today.

You and the fellow six ladies from your course are sitting on yoga mats on the wooden floor, clad scantily as you’re supposed to when pole dancing because the friction needed to stay on the pole is created thanks to your naked skin. But as the door opens and you all expect your trainer Jane to enter – a man comes in. This man is arguably the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever seen in your life, mussed dark hair, jawline sharp enough to cut you into fries, sparkling eyes accentuated by – is that eyeliner?

Then you focus on his body, which isn’t hard because that dude is clearly dressed for pole. His black booty shorts leave nothing, and you really mean NOTHING to the imagination – he’s a big boy. His thighs are like those of a Greek God, and his abs could be used to do your laundry on. Why do you know? Oh, because he’s wearing what can’t even be called a shirt but would fit the word “harness” more closely.

This dude looks like a stripper who’s already shed most of his layers.

You catch someone else’s eye, trying desperately not to stare, and the girl one mat over looks as confused as you feel. Isn’t this supposed to be a women-only class?

The man walks, nay, struts into the room and doesn’t stop until he’s at the very front, next to the teacher’s pole. “Hello, everyone,” he says brightly, “my name is Christopher, but you can call me Chan.”

Australian. Mhmmmmm.

“Unfortunately, Jane is sick today and I am the only replacement she’s found at such a short notice.” Bro.

That dude is going to teach you today???

“I know that this class is only for women, so if anyone of you is uncomfortable being taught by a man, I absolutely understand, and you will receive credit for an extra lesson if you do not want to stay. Anybody who wants to leave?” None of the women raise their hands. Of course not. They would have to be complete idiots not to want to see this man in action. You can practically feel yourself salivating.

Chan grins. “I’m flattered.” He puts a hand on his pole. “I am familiar with the choreography you’ve been working on. How about I’ll show you once again before we do it together, just to repeat it, and then we’ll work on the next forty to fifty seconds together?”

You all nod quickly, because the suggestion of seeing this man doing body waves against a pole is like Christmas coming early.

“But first,” he announces, “Warmup!”

Twenty minutes later, your feelings towards Chan the Hottie are a bit more ambivalent since he had you all do mountain climbers, planks, sit-ups and all sorts of sweat-provoking exercises. He himself, of course, only looks adorably flustered while you notice everyone else discreetly dabbing at the beads of sweat running down their bodies.

“I think we’re all comfortably warm now, you can pack up your mats” he concludes, letting his gaze wander over you all. You shiver when it lands on you, and he winks.

“I am dying,” you want to say, “and you’re not comfortably warm, you’re smoking hot!” But you just smile in what you hope is a winning and motivated manner.

Chan stops the soft music that has been playing in the background and chooses another song on his phone. “As I’ve said before,” he explains again, “I will now do the routine again for you so you can sort of remember what it was. And then we’ll immediately do it again together.” He presses his phone’s touchscreen and adorably half-jogs towards his pole.

“Unholy” by Sam Smith starts and oh God. This song, this choreography, this combination – it was made for Chan.

You actually think the song isn’t that good except for the chorus, but as Chan grabs the pole and does a few slow body waves, you are inclined to change your mind. Next, his muscly calf snakes around the pole, securing him against it as he leans back, the tension in his arm perfect into his very fingertips. He relaxes, grabs the pole again, walks around it and soon is airborne as he squeezes the pole with one leg, gripping it with his knee in an Inside Hook. He then changes into the classic Fireman move. The way he always lands on perfect tiptoes shouldn’t be hot, but fuck, it damn well is.

For the chorus, Jane has you do the Crucifix, just to reference the song title, but Chan looks amazing doing it, focused and muscles tense, but still a light, teasing smile on his face. You have to concentrate on not letting your jaw drop. It’s just too much.

The choreo ends before the song does, and as Chan jumps down, you all break into applause. He seems to blush a bit at that as he turns off the music.

“Thank you,” he says, a little flustered. “Shall we do it together?”

You try to focus on your own moves as much as you can, and even though you’re just a tiny bit self-conscious, you would say you absolutely nail the choreography. Now it’s Chan’s turn to applaud, even though you all join in. You meet his gaze again, and he’s smiling.

“What’s your name?” he asks, approaching you.

Oh my God, is this it?? Was dancing in front of him once enough to win his heart?! Is he going to say, “YN, I’ve never seen anyone so sexy in my life, let’s run away together? I’ll introduce you to my family in Sydney and we’ll open our own pole studio and live happily ever after!” ?!

No. But still good enough, because after you tell him your name, he says:

“YN, could you maybe help me explain the next move? Are you okay with me touching your hands?”

Dumbfounded, you just go, “Sure,” and then he goes on to explain how you should grip the pole for a new turn you haven’t done before. That’s how you find yourself very close to him, his back heaving with his deep breaths as he loudly explains to the others what you are doing. “You can see that her lower leg is carrying all of the weight. You’ll know you have a good enough grip if you release the upper hand and stretch it outwards – well done, YN, amazing!”

Chan is distracting, for sure, but you are not going to embarrass yourself in front of him and your fellow course members, so you are hyper focused and manage to do everything Chan asks of you. He uses you as his “go to” for the whole remaining lesson, asking you to touch his abs and confirm that yes, all of the power for that move really comes from the lower abdominal muscles.

You quickly all learn another significant chunk of choreography, feeling focused and sexy in a way that only pole manages to give you. Soon, the lesson is almost over, and you all stretch, holding onto your poles, wiping your sweat away – this time not in shame, but in triumph.

Chan applauds once again at the end of the lesson. “Thank you all so much for being here tonight despite the change of plans. I appreciate you all staying. If you want to attend my classes, I teach Tuesday and Thursday nights.” You all clap again, and then the girls grab their water bottles and towels and make their way outside. You mean to follow, but –

“YN?”

You turn to see Chan approach you. You’re alone in the studio now.

“That was some great work. How long have you been doing pole?”

You smile at the compliment. “Thanks. Only three months, but it’s quickly becoming a hobby.”

He seems impressed. “Really? I would have expected longer. You really should try a more advanced class. I teach Level Six on Tuesdays, if you have time then.”

Level Six? This was only Level Three – could you skip two entire courses?

He chuckles at your scepticism. “I’m sure you can do it. And frankly – I’m jealous Jane gets such great students all to herself.” Chan throws a towel over his shoulder and turns to reach for the stereo. “Think about it, love,” he says. “I’d love to have you in my course.”

He doesn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

But damn, are you not going to tell that to your vibrator in the shower at home later.

You thank Chan and leave, almost forgetting to grab your water. On your way out of the building, you grab the flyer with the course times. Weirdly, you suddenly feel the urge to have pole lessons on Tuesdays as well…

~Day 18~

[peachdues]

I want you all to know that I wrote Succor while doing a peloton class yesterday morning and full on muted that shit to focus on writing tasteful smut.

[kuraikyu]

@trehontin : Deny him, hm? What a bold move to make, and he underlines that with just the mere shift of his body a bit closer to him. A bit nearer [ too close? ], sapping the strength between their boundaries with nothing but his presence and the benign laugh somewhere deep within his chest. He knew a jest when it was presented to him, but alas. " Why play so coy? " Because they both knew. " Want me to plead for an answer? Or just want me to ask nicely? " Whatever it was, he may entertain in just unraveling the other man a bit further. Bit by bit, just wanting to see him come undone [ not quite yet? ]. Thus he could speak, in that soft and whispered tone. " Kindly indulge me a bit further, will you? Did you like what you saw? " [ for geto :} <3 ]

ㅤ𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 accept absolutions of immensity than in inviting embrace of death? Just like he entangled himself in perpetual aeon of this invisible chase that peeled him raw slice by slice and left to trill something in his veins. To straddle seldom curves of fundamental duality & to have one hand drift and defy gravity with order and security, and the other in chaos, and possibility. Having all one's interest absorbed by something so sanguinary ... angry, and engrossed, he felt right now and full of get-up-and-go. He loathed this situation ... the chain events ... this man ... his presence ... the way he looked at him ... the way his unknown energy printed invisible marks and tried to bend him in his knees ... If it wasn't for his morbid fascination with everything dire and deadly, he would sickly curl, embracing his stomach in derisive self-laughter of an emotional rollercoaster akin to the one he has fought since Star-Plasma Vessel mission. Despite being pro-justice-oriented, Suguru hated listening to someone else's orders and he hardly ever found himself interested in other people, so what made this guy ( think he was ) special? This confusion brought back the mantra of despair because he could not understand what the hell was the meaning of all of this. And suddenly he remembers all those scary myths about otherworldly beings kidnapping / murdering the living. What if this time he wasn't a hunter anymore but the one being hunted? The unsettling terror that would strike guts of anyone acknowledging such realization. But what if - maybe they could be of mutual use to one another. Dangerous thought. Either way, there was no escape now, not from that warmth. There were many subjective questions, but no grounding instinctive self for it was too late, and the man was close; too close to the point where their chests almost touched. The following strangeness of such, sacred, fiery togetherness, substantially fills the habitable space between them beyond personal and social norms. The resonance of unknown energy would mesh and conflux with his cursed on the whole, stirring something that was over the moon for living and rapturous for non-living; purring somewhere between back gates of his portals. He did not know why this man was here, but he wanted to know why his body especially the energetical perkiness of his ardor reacted the way it did, and as if it wasn't enough as if all the negative emotions he exorcised tried to claw their way out to pierce, puncture, tear and devour (the creatures wanted right?) . The only way how to figure it out was to play this game. Death bringer in the guise of such aural apparition could very well see through his sotto voce and pretense veil of impassivity which held but one singular purpose and that to be served as a tease. As his students would jokingly say - 'he was good at hiding his rotten personality'. If only they knew ... one should not fully mend his faith in him. The thrill was not wholly one of fear. With faintest smirk manifests in grace simultaneous reaction to coyness.

'Want me to plead for an answer? Or just want me to ask nicely?

Such question challenged the poetic cantor in his own tune.

With drop of concern, his eyes would rest on the intruder with serenading recollection to allow other senses rise with another bold remark and reckless gesture but that's just him. " Carefully, such words might play into your disfavor, '' in responsiveness his voice scarcely low, daintily perceiving the immediacy of ingenuity to effective details, '' as much as I hate to say that, both options, in fact, sound quite appealing ... "

Layers of so seemingly harmonious patterns stirring gales from the most profound depths of one's being reveals themselves as intense to be gripped fully and meaningfully. Slowly, with utmost care & never all haste but cautiously, hand rises up. Closer and closer to his face in enticingly tender, almost ghostly brush. Halting in tracks and only pausing himself when the other spoke. Touching him, felt like touching a living sculpture cut from marble. Next - a stain of fresh crimson (* he almost forgot they stood in woodland desolation and he was injured ) trailing along, painting a small rivulet behind his thumb sliding all the way down across Shinigami's cheekbone and lip-corner. He had no intention to oblige his request; not unless he felt like doing so in his own fashion.

Gild, black tide unbroken by ragged breaths engulfed them like a spiral of a lustrous silk veil.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤCan you feel it?

The energy of Curse User was nothing pleasant but pure darkness and negative emotions combined, in spite of that such invocation by hands of skilled user could produce something additional and unexpecting in arts of manipulativeness. Symmetrical ache that lifts in forth pressing pressure and circulating synchrony, tightening to a feverish nearly ecstatic, devouring degree ... ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCan you feel my answer?

But it all would fade with brisk removal of his hand in next few seconds for another echo approximating behind his back was getting stronger.

---

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ'-ensei!'

Nobara's and Pandas's call. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ'Sensei!'

' All good here ... these creatures are dead. ' Thanks to our new friend.

ㅤㅤ

[aa-carnivorousfatality]

We have potential. We can be good. Let us be good...

"Why? " an internal thought in his head. A conversation with only himself. His voice lingering on the wind.

......We can be good.

"And why should we be? When the world has been cruel to us?"

LET US BE GOOD!!!! WE CAN BE GOOD!!!!

"No!!!! I refuse to be. The world has been cruel to us from the start. Venom was cruel to this world once, and now they praise him. As if he hasn't done far worse damage than a few corpses left on the street."

Venom....is our father.

A snarl. "No, he is not. A father's first instinct. A father's first choice should NOT be to KILL his son!!!" For some HUMANS THAT HAD NO ISSUE AND STILL WILL PUT HIM IN THE GROUND!!!"

A table was thrown, smashing into pieces. The sound echoing in the abandoned church. Eyes locked on the wall, fangs bared.

Cletus is gone...

"I KNOW that!!!"

.....We want father....

"Shut. Up."

YOU want father....

His feet were moving towards the exit. It was like his body was on auto pilot. As if HE has a symbiote. But there was no symbiote in Carnage. He was unsure why he was moving. But he was moving with one intent in his mind.

Find father.......Need father.....Hurts.

"Father..." Carnage choked out. For the first time in his life...he felt so small. Too small.........

He hated it.

Talons gripped the frame before he could take off into the dense fog. Snarls and growls came from him as he shook. "I refuse to crawl to him!!! He made his choice. I made mine."

........I made mine.

His body relented and he managed to back away from the exit. Eyes hollow and trained on the fog. He could hear the distant sound of coyotes in the distance. Their howls....reminding him of himself inside.

So he tilted his head back.

And roared.

[kinky-jk]

JAIL FOR WHY IS THIS TOO SHORT FOR MY LIKING!!!

❝ every side of you ❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝Jungkook is a devil when he's fucking you and an angel when he's out of bed. You need his aftercare just like you need his tattooed arm choking you so hard.❞

— PAIRING: dom!jungkook x sub!reader

— TYPE: smut, fluff | non-idol!au, established relationship

— WORD COUNT: 1,201

— WARNINGS: PWP, curse words, rough sex, vaginal sex, choking, spanking, squirting, light dom/sub, degradation kink, mention of safeword, creampie, brief loss of consciousness, aftercare, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex, tattooed!jungkook

— NOTES: I'm definitely still freaking out over Jungkook's shirtless live on Weverse.

— RELEASE DATE: July 30th, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

Jungkook is a rough sex lover. You know better than anyone why this man is the biggest stereotype of a character written by an erotic romance author. No matter the time or place. Jungkook only wants his cock to be inside you.

The sound of your moans is like angelic melodies to him. The expression on your face when you reach the orgasm is more beautiful than any Renaissance art he could admire in a museum.

Jungkook loves having sex with you. Every day and every hour that you both could. Definitely.

For those reasons, you weren't surprised when Jungkook woke you up in the middle of the night for a quick fuck.

Or at least that was the initial idea. But just as he was addicted to feeling your pussy squeezing his cock during each thrust by his hips, you were addicted to the genuine pleasure his tattooed arm gave you during choking play.

“You're a whore, aren't you? You love being choked by me. You love when I don't let you breathe." He laughed listening to the sound of his balls hitting the skin of your ass as the speed of his thrusts increased. "Like it? How do you feel you shitty little bitch?

“So good, Kookie… I love it. You're perfect for me."

Your confession might seem adorable sometimes but Jungkook couldn't tolerate softness within sex. When he pressed his forearm to your throat hard enough to nearly hurt you, you muttered a strangled apology, aware that your mistake had pissed him off.

“That's not what I fucking asked." Jungkook slapped your ass with his free hand, the sight of your swaying ass cheeks causing spasms in his body. Holy shit, he really loved fucking you in doggy style. “I'm asking if you like being treated like the stupid bitch you are. You're my cock slut? My needy and dumb slut?

"Yes!" You moaned louder, the emotion of being degraded taking you closer to an overwhelming orgasm. "Please! Please continue! I'm gonna cum!"

"Such a greedy little bitch..." That snarky laugh came back, this time whispered close to your ear. He bit your right earlobe. "Wanna cum on my cock?"

Each thrust was like a walk in paradise. Or maybe a dance with the devil.

Jungkook understood about your body as well as a conductor could conduct an orchestra. It was no different for you. Your knowledge about the whole essence of his body covered in tattoos was something you acquired very well during all those years together.

So you knew why his hand left the soft piece of your ass to squeeze circles on your clit. He was gonna cum at any moment. He wanted you to cum too. You should cum around him, for him, with him.

"Such a fucking good pussy, holy shit!"

It was impossible for Jungkook not to feel numb from the feel of her pussy squeezing him, nearly crushing his cock because of deep thrusts.

It was like he wanted to break you in half. Hips colliding, his tattooed arm suffocating you, deft fingers rubbing your clit so hard and desperately.

You weren't shocked when an intense burning started at the bottom of your belly. It wasn't the first time that this would happen in a fuck with Jeon Jungkook.

However before you could warn him ahead of time, Jungkook was already increasing not only the speed of his fingers but also the pressure exerted on your clit.

There wasn't much you could do but scream when an orgasm flashed through your mind and a sizable amount of clear liquid squirted from your pussy onto the sheets.

You could hear your name escaping Jungkook's lips in a guttural moan and you could also feel all of his cum filling you in dense charges.

Swearing uttered by your boyfriend and the heat of his cum were the last things you were able to witness before your body gave out from exhaustion and you crashed into the wet bed sheets as you lost consciousness.

Jungkook was always a great boyfriend for you, at these times it was like he was written by Jane Austen. Romanticism was one of the characteristics you most admired about him. He was so soft and affectionate when you two was out of the bedroom.

The aftercare was essential for both of you. It didn't matter what he said or did to you in bed, after sex he became the classic "clingy boyfriend", always worried about you, your body and your mind.

"Are you okay babydoll? You scared me." It was the first thing your brain picked up on when you shook off the blackness of the fainting and opened your eyes.

The second thing you picked up was the fact that Jungkook was lying next to you. Both of you still naked and covered by a different sheet than the one on the bed when you have a squirt.

You might also notice that your skin wasn't as sticky as it used to be. Perhaps throwing it on the side table indicated why.

“I'm already fine, Kookie. Just relax." You failed to smile because you hissed in pain as soon as Jungkook's hands tried to pull you into a hug.

The slight discomfort in your body was enough to make Jungkook's overprotective personality worse; wide eyes and a devastated expression on his face.

"I hurt you babydoll? Why didn't you ask me to stop?"

“You didn't hurt me." It wasn't entirely true. Your skin was already lightly bruised, your throat was burning from the choking and your clit was still sensitive and painful due to the strong stimuli of Jungkook's fingers. However you also loved rough sex and therefore insisted on ensuring how satisfied you were after the situation. “It was perfect, angel. I promise. You know I would use the safeword if we had to."

Jungkook agreed as he hoped in his thoughts that this day would never come. He knew he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he ever hurt you.

“You were perfect babydoll. You're always perfect."

Circling your fingers over the patterns on his arm, you allowed yourself to smile at the praise. It was so sweet and kind. A complete opposite of the Jungkook you witnessed in bed.

You loved both sides of him.

"You like when I wet the sheets and my body slumped onto the mattress like a real doll?"

His cheeks turned red and your playful smile widened noticing his embarrassment.

"Shut up." He teased you in light chuckles. "I really got a worried after cumming seeing you fainting underneath me."

"I bet you got horny first." You teased again and this time he laughed louder rolling his eyes and nodding his head in affirmation.

"Fine! It was really a little hot. But I swear I still was worried."

This time you were the one who nodded.

Cuddling the heat of his chest, your eyelids began to close and the post-sex drowsiness expanded in intensity with each passing second.

“I love you my babydoll. You're perfect."

You chuckled and sealed your lips to the bare skin of his shoulder.

“Love you too, Kookie. Every side of you."

[arkive78]

One Piece Fic Recs that occupy my mind nonstop

After really getting into One Piece this past spring, I've been reading as much as tumblr and AO3 have offered me in terms of One Piece content. It's been hard to keep track of everything that I have read, however, certain stories/headcanons/posts linger in my mind and I thought I'd share them with you!

Minors DNI with fics marked as NSFW and for anyone, be sure to read the content warnings the authors have mentioned!

Hope y'all enjoy!

Updated: October 1, 2024

Killer

Childhood Crush by @analogwriting

does involve violent themes, please be sure to read content warnings for each chapter

Will You Let Me? by @fanaticsnail

NSFW, Pollen AU

Dreaming of You by @fanaticsnail

this also includes Heat and Kid

NSFW

The Break (Kid x reader x Killer) by @standfucker

Gore, graphic description of injury/pain/first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader

Rotation (Heat, Kid, Killer, Wire x reader) by @standfucker

explicit NSFW content

Loving you is easy by @sheerxfiction

NSFW

Three Times Killer Tried to Confess and The One Time That He Did by @nina-ya

SFW

Acid, Salt, Fat, and Heat (w/ Kid) by @fanaticsnail

NSFW

Ace

SFW:

A world we are both in by @my-love-is-sunlight

Kiss by @my-love-is-sunlight

Patching Up Ace's Wounds by @nina-ya SFW

there are more of this prompt with different characters btw!

Help by @sanjisprincesswifey

Blinders On by @froggiewrites

Taking the hit for him by @grandline-fics

NSFW:

Open Flame by @willowbelle

Ace + back dimples by @tetzoro

Fated Reunions by @tetzoro

Coward by @mimi-ya

Need by @maddddstuff

Ass or Tits? by @cloudzoro

Follow Through by @froggiewrites

My Pretty Little Thief by @turtletaubwrites

Zoro

SFW:

Bloom by @tetzoro

brazen by @mydearlybeloathed

"we should get married" by @grandlinedreams

wake him up! by @sleepymarimo

He Loves Me by @clare-875

Got me losin' my cool by @bitchimasnake-sss

Insomnia: owner's instruction by @revasserium

NSFW:

The Right Direction by @willowbelle

with hearts aligned by @eelnoise

2 years overdue by @heyitsdoe

pumpkin by @cloudzoro

beg for me by @angel1010xx

Waterflow by @otkuhotgirl

Law

SFW:

touch-starved Law by @maroronoa

the death of me by @weneeya

too sweet for me by @my-love-is-sunlight

there are no conditions by @cozage

Hidden symptoms by @escenariosinfumables

Unspoken affections by @avocadorablepirate

NSFW:

Tethered Together by @tetzoro

Luffy

A secret by @missmugiwara

18+, suggestive

SFW:

you can talk to me, but you already know by @mydearlybeloathed

clueless by @grandline-fics

Bachata by @fanaticsnail

Mihawk

Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail

has both SFW and NSFW so make sure to read the chapter warnings!

Creative Cures by @discordantwritings

NSFW

Shanks

SFW:

Remember Me by @fanaticsnail

Dancando Lambada by @fanaticsnail

NSFW:

Always return to you by @discordantwritings

Sanji

NSFW:

Citrus by @otkuhotgirl

Multiple characters

Hey Doc by @fanaticsnail

some NSFW themes depending on the drabble

so very very funny

The Kissing Booth by @fanaticsnail

Paulie, Luffy, Hongo, Smoker, Aokiji, Heat, Crocodile, Sanji, Shachi, Law, and Zoro (right now)

my favorite ones are: Luffy, Smoker, Heat, Shachi !

Competency, Stupidity, Duality by @fanaticsnail

kid, zoro, and killer

SFW

Post Injury by @standfucker

law, shanks, rosinate, blackbeard, mihawk

gore content warnings

Gremlin Reader by @standfucker

Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, and Kid Pirates

literally the funniest fucking thing I've ever read

they hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit by @grandline-fics

zoro, law, shanks

angst, descriptions of injury, and hurt/comfort

Beauty scars by @cozage

law, kidd

borderline NSFW

Truth or Dare by @cozage

Ace, Shanks, Luffy, and Law

SFW + NSFW, the NSFW section is clearly marked by the author

Oblivious flirting by @cozage

Law, Luffy, Ace

SFW

A Plushie Substitute by @cozage

Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

SFW

Five things he says when he thinks you're asleep by @imasimpforshanks

Law, Ace, Shanks

SFW

the moment they knew you were the one by @imasimpforshanks

Luffy, Zoro, Ace, Sanji, Shanks, Law, Sabo

fluff

Falling in love with them by @imasimpforshanks

Ace, Law

SFW

OP to you being clueless to their flirting/feelings part 1 by @astelren

Ace, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro Sanji, Izou, Cavendish, Rayleigh, Law

fluff

there's a part 2!

Being scared to have sex with them by @strawhatsoraya

Zoro, Law, Kid, Ace

obviously NSFW

Calling them my love by @lehguru

Law, Sabo, Ace, Kid, Killer, Bartolomeo

SFW

Kid, Zoro, Law, & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex by @eustasskidagenda

NSFW

there are 2 other parts with different characters!

A celestial dragon wants their fem!s/o by @uramakimochi

Zoro, Sanji, Law

SFW

there's another part too!

Hand placement by @cloudzoro

Ace, Crocodile, Law, Mihawk, Nami, Reiju, Robin, Sanji, Tashigi, Zoro

NSFW

god the ones about the girls are SO GOOD

affectionate + strawhats by @lehguru

SFW

OP boys in a relationship by @moonydustx

SFW

growing old together by @usernameforaboredcat

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

SFW

sobbed

one piece boys rescuing you by @badgerbl00d

law, zoro

sfw

heartstopper by @sleepymarimo

luffy, sanji, zoro, law

sfw

party games they'd play as an excuse to kiss you by @imasimpforshanks

luffy, zoro, nami, ace, law, shanks

sfw

Op characters reacting to you kissing them and running away by @princeoftheeternalbog

luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin, usopp, ace, marco, izou, sabo

slightly suggestive, mdni

Number Games by @turtletaubwrites

multi-chapter story with Cross Guild x reader

very NSFW, read the tags very carefully

Random Flirting Headcanons by @feral-artistry

Shanks, Buggy, Sanji, Ace, Law, Zoro

SFW

Here's part 2 with more characters

Jealousy fueled kiss w/ “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” by @grandline-fics

Ace, zoro, law, kid, lucci

sfw

Thinkin about: the monster, trio, ace ‘n law! Vs breeding kink! by @bitchimasnake-sss

luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, law

nsfw

Habits of touch by @clare-875

Zoro, sanji, luffy

sfw

Butterflies -- how they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) with Luffy, Zoro, and Law by @radishaur

luffy, zoro, law

sfw

multiple versions! this one is just my favorite hehe

[godzexperiment]

"You don't get it!" Nix twirled the knife between fingers- outlet for the restlessness. Betwixt the spaces, left to right and then back each time getting faster. Situation where it was best to tread carefully. As the desert storm lashed out of the cracks, crevices into the air. "An return wouldn't be worth shit!" Knife seeming like it was still, from the speed and blur of its movement. Giant action like an shrug full of pure anger to it. "Everybody should just accept it, get along with it and I don't want to go back to how it was."

Biting of the corner of his mouth to stifle back some of the venom. Of the whirlwind that could easily tear through everything. However unlikely, the nagging concept of what if- had spiraled. It had become an force to be reckoned with, an volatile angel with no better way to handle it. Other than get angry, slight bit desiring of the needing some big outlet for it all. Of stabbing something, burning things of an magnitude unknown.

[cloudbattrolls]

Tuuya: If you think you’re better than the living you’re an idiot.

Zeller: I’m gonna eatcha! Unless you are strong or funny enough for me to flirt with/harass.

[fanaticsnail]

Snail important question;

Of any line-up of characters of your choice-

Who do you think is attracted to competency,

Who is attracted to stupidity,

Who can go either way,

And who is attracted to both at the same time (imagine;

Reader: sorry I'm late I had to fight off two different ships

Them: is that how you got that bruise on your face?

Reader: oh... Actually, I wasn't looking and pulled a push door off its' hinges into my face

Them, kicking off their pants: god you're so fucking stupid, sit on my face

)

Also, I feel like there are different versions of competency and stupidity. Street smarts vs social obliviousness. Book smarts vs functionally illiterate. Strategic/battle smarts vs what-do-you-mean-flashing-the-enemy-isn't-a-valid-distraction?

(Zoro is completely math smart and dumb in every other way)

I could imagine Luffy would be attracted to hyper specific competency. If you're really into a specific thing and good at it and it's your dream he would absolutely love it even if it sounds like you're speaking gibberish to him. He wouldn't even think of it as weird - I mean, no more weird than any other dream he doesn't personally understand - he's certainly not the type to judge based on societal norms. You could talk his ear off about the reproductive habits of different animals and he wouldn't get why everyone else doesn't like to hear it when they're eating but hey more food for him.

Snail. Your asks always know how to get the better of me. Have a series of little drabbles, dear.

Competency, Stupidity, Duality

Masterlist here

Word Count: 410+, 510+, 580+

Synopsis: They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you.

Themes: variety x gn!reader, feelings, injury, mentions of battles, finally giving in, all different 'reader' inserts, confessions of love, kid x reader, zoro x reader, killer x reader, angst, fluff, sweetness.

Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this today, but I've been thinking about the big boys lately and I needed to give them some love. Something about trios lately.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Competency: Eustass Kid

When Eustass Kid noticed how quick and sharp you were to react in life or death circumstances, he was immediately smitten with you. Being a Straw-Hat, your ambitions and dreams were fostered by your playful captain as you sailed aboard the Thousand Sunny. Your ability to interact flawlessly by balancing the combined efforts of the three crews had him intrigued by your charisma. 

Fighting by your side was something he didn’t expect to affect him so much. The way you researched the strengths and weaknesses of all three crews sailing and fighting together was admirable. Asserting yourself by asking Law to push and pull you closer to the fight with the Ope-Ope no Mi ability, while fighting side-by-side with Massacre Soldier Killer in close quarters, had him left wordless.

After the battle finishes, he watched as you hastily aided your crew of their injuries while disregarding your own; putting others first while adding pressure to your hand-gash, hovering it over your head to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t get enough of you. 

He needed you to know how he felt about you, but being in the presence of Luffy and Law always seemed to bring out the more juvenile side of attitude. His simple attraction and infatuation with you had to be revealed to you in due time, but he couldn’t risk sounding like an idiot in front of you. He would have to simply wait until you were alone and unoccupied before he made his move to take care of you after taking care of others. 

Slowly approaching you as you sat down against the tangerine grove aboard the Thousand Sunny, his shadow shrouded your form and prompted you to gaze up into his scarred, sheepish face. Your smile caused his heart to beat harder and his head to swirl with a variety of "what-ifs". Gulping back his insecurities, he knelt down in front of you.

“Let me take care of that for you,” he offered with a soft smirk, “You’ve done so much for others, and I think your hand needs some seeing to.” 

“If you say so, Captain Kid,” you shrug, offering your injured hand delicately to him and listening to his every instruction as he treats you, “I wasn’t aware you had any medical training.” He straps your hand in a bandage, placing down the final ties before holding your injured hand in his.

“I don’t,” he shrugged with a smile atop his painted lips, “But I’ve lost an arm before, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 

“You’re-...” he stuttered over his words, gazing at your hand before softly drifting his tired eyes up, “...-You amaze me. Truly, amaze me.” You place your other hand on his, never once removing your eyes from his face as he offers you such kindness. 

“Thank you, sir,” you nod to him with a soft smile, “You amaze me, too.”

Stupidity: Roronoa Zoro

“Why would you do that?” Zoro roared at you, hovering his body over yours and caging your face-down body within a shield of his own. The gashes on your back were deep, your body weeping out the red essence and staining your clothes with it.

“C-Couldn’t risk yours,” you stuttered out with a soft smile, “H’was gonna g-get yours. Didn’t want you to wear the shame.” His eyes widened, filling with a steam of glossy tears that threatened to spill over the moment you stuttered out your confession. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Mark on the back is a swordsman’s greatest shame?” 

Drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

One after one, soft tears spilt down his cheeks and mixed with the fluids pooling at your back. He leaned down towards you, the heat of battle dying down with the swift, flaming kick of the blonde cook and giggling chuckles of your captain, Luffy. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sniffed his sobs back as he leaned down to cage you, “Can’t you see? None of that fucking matters without you here.” He softly, tenderly moved you from your position on the floor to not disturb your wounds. He sat you up, cradling you against his broad chest and openly sobbed for you. 

“When you get better,” he growled into your shoulder, “I will repay you for this. I will pay my debt to you.” His sobs got more desperate, not halting in the slightest when Trafalgar D Water-Law approached the two of you in your embrace. 

“Let me get ‘em to the infirmary,” Law offered, gesturing for Bepo to ready the aid kit, “I’ll treat the wounds there-.” 

“-I won’t leave them,” Zoro barked over your shoulder, your soft smile tugging at your cheeks in your hazy daze. “Let me go with you, Traffy. I won’t say a damn word to distract you, on my honor.” Law nods, raising his hand and spreading his fingers and offers the two words to switch positions within the infirmary: “Room, Shambles.” 

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you laughed each time Zoro chastised you for your stupidity. Echos of: “There were so many other things you could’ve done instead,” and “You stumbled into that blade like a moron and took that hit for me, idiot.” You giggled through the pain, barely feeling it as Law worked to stitch you together again. 

Upon regaining consciousness, you looked to your moss-haired crewmate and offered out your hand to his bicep. His head was bowed, arms crossed over his chest, and was assumed to be napping by your bedside. Feeling your touch, he was roused from his sleep and immediately leaned forward to bring his face beside yours. 

“You’re a fucking moron,” he huffed, smiling in a melancholy grin. You laughed at his insult, squeezing his muscle before retracting your hand. As you nearly drew it away to your side, he caught your hand and brought your palm up to his lips. 

“My fucking moron,” he confirmed, placing a soft kiss to your palm before using it to cup his face. “I love you.”

Duality: Massacre Soldier Killer

Staring up into your face while remaining silent, resting his masked face on the heel of his palm, he listened to your recount of a very specific childhood injury that left you with an interesting scar on your thigh. Killer’s eyes never left your face, his cheeks beginning to glow warm and vibrant beneath the shroud of his mask.

“So, let me get this straight,” Captain Eustass Kid held his hand in front of his face and gave it a gentle wave to halt your words, “That sick-looking scar wasn’t from any time you served with Luffy, but because you set off a fucking harpoon and speared yourself in the leg with it?” 

Killer felt himself swoon at the melody your laugh thrust into the atmosphere. He was ever thankful his blue and white mask disguised how much he was smiling beneath the shroud. 

“Yep,” you popped the ‘P’ afterwards, nodding in confirmation as you sat beside Usopp and drew your tankard up to your lips, “But I learnt from it, and it hasn’t happened since.” Killer sighed, his voice almost coming out in a soft moan to reveal his growing infatuation for you. Kid barked out a harsh gaggle of laughter, clapping you on the shoulder with his right hand and gestured for you to reveal it to them.

“Let me see it again, go on,” he chuckled, removing his hand and sitting back on his seat, “Use Killer’s thigh as a prop so we can see it properly. You don’t mind do you, big guy?” Killer absentmindedly and slowly shook his head, tapping his thigh twice with his hand for you to reveal your injury to the captain of the Victoria Punk, himself and your crewmate beside you. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, standing beside Usopp and Killer and gently placed your foot atop Killer’s thigh and began hiking up your shorts to your hip, “Feast your eyes, Captain.” Sure enough, an interesting looking scar was revealed on your inner thigh, clear as day and sure as the sea is salty. 

“Oh, fucking hells!” Kid gave you a hearty laugh, “You seeing this, big guy?” Kid turned his attention to his first mate, his smile only growing as he noticed the angle of Killer’s mask never left your face. Surprise was immediately thrust into Kid’s eyes, noticing the unwavering resolve in Killer’s posture. 

You turned your attention down to the silent and broody first-mate, your face puzzled and eyes searching his mask for any further thought or action. He slowly drew his hands up to clasp around your ankle and calf, holding it firmly as he leaned forward. 

“You’re perfect,” he offered in a breathy whisper, stroking your leg and gazing lovingly into your face, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” 

Your face flushed with a warmth at his words, eyes widening and looking down at his large hands as they held you so tenderly and delicately within his grasp. Smiling, you leaned forwards and placed your hand over his scarred left forearm with mischief in your eyes, asking him a simple question with a suggestive tone. 

“Like what you see then, big guy?” At your question, Usopp nearly choked on his drink. You had never been this bold before, and this came as a shock to your crew’s skilled sniper. He covered his choking with a soft cough, turning away with a downturned smile and stifling his growing laugh. 

“So much,” Killer confirmed, gently caressing your calf and looking up at you through half-hooded blonde lashes beneath his mask, “So, so much.”

[betweenstorms]

HI HI HI HELLO!!!!!!! i really genuinely love your recent childhood friend!simon!!! UGH I’M OBSESSED!! and i’m not sure if you’d expound on the future chapters but i was wondering about what simon was thinking about in the recent chapters and how he finally decided to visit the apartment? SO SO AMAZING LOVE THIS SO MUCH!! LOVE YOU <33

Hiii, your excitement seriously made my day! As for what Simon was thinking and why he finally decided to visit the apartment, there’s definitely a lot of internal conflict, suppressed desire and nostalgia at play...

Drabble Two of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Simon Riley had been back from Urzikstan for less than a day.

Adrenaline still pulsed through his veins, the heat and the dust of those two weeks spent under a burning sky that offered no mercy still clinged to him. The gunfire, the danger, the uncertainty of life and death—it was a language he spoke fluently.

Those were moments where Ghost thrived.

Where the chaos of war had stripped everything down to raw survival, moments where the buzzing noise of his mind finally quieted beneath the relentless rhythm of gunfire. But even in the silence between missions, in the rare, stolen moments of rest, his thoughts drifted to one thing.

You.

It was maddening, how your presence lingered in his mind, like a gentle but nagging whisper. He carried you with him like a secret, a tether pulling him back from the abyss. Every step in the dusty streets, every shadowed alleyway, seemed to remind him of the promise he'd made to you back in Manchester. That he would visit you. A promise he never thought he’d care about, but now, it was all he could think about. And when the mission was finally over, when the dust had settled, the only thing that mattered was you.

He was wary of you, and yet, he desired you in equal measure.

Simon Riley was certain you would be the death of him—

—and somehow, he welcomed it.

Simon had felt like he was drowning his whole life, as if every breath he took was a struggle to break the surface.

But when he saw you again back in Manchester, like a reminder of a kid he once was, it was as though he finally breathed freely for the first time. He didn’t care about the reasons or the logic behind it, all he knew was that he needed you near him, for as long as he could hold on. And he couldn’t lie to himself about the nature of that need. It wasn’t pure, wasn’t noble. He wanted you in a way that was selfish, possessive. It wasn’t the kind of attraction people dream of—it was raw, primal, something that consumed him like a wildfire he couldn’t control. He wanted you beside him, wanted you to carry his name, to feel the weight of his claim, etched into your skin, into your flesh, into your very being. You were his, in the only way he knew how to love.

He didn’t really know what love was, didn’t have a name for it, and he didn’t even care to define what the fuck he felt about you—so long as you were there, within reach, threaded into the fabric of his life.

That was all that mattered.

The visceral need, this ache that gnawed at him, wasn’t something he’d known before, not until he saw you again in that bloody pub.

The familiarity of the child he once knew had shifted, twisted into something deeper, something undeniable in the man he had become. He couldn’t trace when it started—whether it had been lingering in him since his first breath, woven into his very being, destined to be yours, or if it had bloomed in him just yesterday.

Time seemed irrelevant.

The only thing he knew for certain was this—

—he needed you back in his life, needed you like a pulse, something vital, something he couldn’t survive without.

The impulse to kill and to love had always been intertwined within Simon, a duality he carried like a shadow stitched to his soul since birth. But in your presence, something shifted. The urge to destroy, to demolish and to go for the throat, it all fell away and washed clean by the quiet, undeniable force of what he felt for you. As if, in loving you, he could somehow cleanse the violence from his core, from his entire being and become something whole.

Each time you crossed his mind, he couldn't help but think, either release him from this tempting torment or take him with you, away to that soft world you seemed to belong to, where the air carried the scent of lost childhood, where everything was draped in your gentle colour. There, he could finally surrender. And in that quiet, where you lived and breathed, he could rest—beside you, within you, over you, under you, and at last, know peace.

Therefore, when the plane touched down on British soil, something pulled tight inside him. The mission was over, but he knew his real, internal battle was just beginning. The ache to see you, to keep his promise, burned hotter than any physical wound he carried. His mind, which had always been sharp and focused, was filled only with you.

He barely registered the team’s dispersal.

Price had clapped him on the shoulder, saying something about debriefs, but Simon’s mind was already elsewhere.

He moved mechanically, shedding the blood, sweat and tears of war in the shower of his quarters, the boiling water doing nothing to thaw the chill that had settled deep into his bones. He didn’t linger for long. The thought of you waiting for him, of finally seeing you again, pulled him through the motions like a man possessed.

His thoughts, his entire being, were already elsewhere.

Already with you.

Simon grabbed his keys, his civilian clothes clinging to his wet skin. London blurred past him as he drove, headlights streaking like distant stars, but none of it registered. His only thought was you—what you’d say, how you’d look at him when he showed up, unannounced at your apartment. Would you be pleased? Surprised? Annoyed? He wasn’t sure, but the need to find out burned through him, the only thing that cut through the fog of his post-mission mind.

When he finally pulled up outside your flat, the building loomed in front of him, a place of safety, of solace, yet suddenly it felt like hostile territory. His throat tightened as he took the stairs two at a time, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. His legs carried him faster than his mind could keep up with. As he stood at your door, his hand raised to knock, a wave of uncertainty washed over him.

What the bloody hell was he doing?

What the fuck did he hope to find here?

He hadn’t told you he was coming, hadn’t prepared himself for what might come next. His foggy mind was filled with a thousand doubts. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if he had been a complete fool? He wasn’t good at shit like this—at people, at feelings. He was a soldier, built for violence and destruction, not for this. However, the warmth you’d given him back in Manchester, the way you’d made him feel something beyond the endless emptiness, he wasn’t sure he could walk away from that.

You made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t expected, hadn’t asked for.

The rational part of him screamed to leave, to save himself from whatever mistake he was about to make. He wasn’t meant for soft things, he wasn’t made for the quiet kind of intimacy that seemed to come so easily to others.

But there was something in you, something gentle and tender, that hid away the edges of a world that had taught him to bite in order to survive. Your innocent gaze, like the eyes of a lamb, made him feel like a creature half-tamed, haunted by the violence others had long branded into his skin. Sometimes, he felt like a stray dog everyone feared, the one they whispered about, the one they warned their loved ones about. The one who’d been hurt enough to snarl, to bare his teeth when he didn’t mean to.

He didn’t want that, no... not with you.

He didn’t understand the instinct to bite, the reflex to lash out before he was hurt. But with you, it felt like a betrayal of something sacred, something fragile. He longed to be gentle, to be soft in a way he’d never learned, but feared the wolf inside might never be tamed.

He stepped back from the door, leaning against the wall, trying to gather his thoughts.

What if this was a huge mistake? What if you didn’t even care that he was back? What would he even say if you answered?

It wasn’t like you owed him anything.

There were no promises between you—just a coincidence, a fleeting moment that might have meant more to him than it did to you. For all he knew, you could’ve moved on, forgotten all about him.

And yet, he knocked.

The sound was almost timid, barely more than a hum against the quiet of the night. Simon waited, his heart pounding, the seconds dragging out like hours. When there was no response, doubt began to claw at him again. Then he knocked again, this time a little louder, but still, nothing. Maybe you weren’t home. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. He knocked a third time, frustration tightening in his chest, the irrational need to see you overwhelming all sense.

Just as he was about to turn away, footsteps echoed softly from inside. Then the door burst open, and there you were.

“Jesus Christ,” you snapped, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

He didn’t have the right words. He never did. But seeing you there, standing in the doorway, looking at him with those wide, questioning eyes—it was enough. It was more than enough.

“Didn’t mean to.”

The silence between you felt like fire against his skin, a scorching ache that made his chest tighten. How could it hurt so much to be alone with you? You were something he both craved and feared, a temptation too pure to touch but impossible to resist.

And then there was the way you looked at him.

As if he were more than a man, as if he was the one who arranged the stars in their constellations, as if the darkness itself was his creation, painted with the black depths of his soul just so you could lie beneath it. It unsettled him, that curious gaze, full of devotion, as though you saw something divine in him that he could never see in himself. And in that moment, he wasn’t sure which was more terrifying—the longing to believe it, or the fear that it might be true.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he felt.

Maybe this was all some twisted, sick need to reclaim the childhood he had lost, and maybe you were the anchor he used to hold onto it. Perhaps you were nothing more than a rebound, a vessel to fill the hollow ache inside him, something to use and discard once he had squeezed from you the illusion of meaning. Holding you close gave him a fleeting sense of peace, a brief pause in the chaos, as if you could somehow stitch together the pieces of his fractured past, just to feel a fleeting sense of something, anything.

Maybe it was all a lie, a cruel delusion he had woven around himself—a tempting trap where you were just a means to an end. Someone he could use to convince himself it was for a greater purpose, to make the suffering mean something. That you were some kind of proof that everything he endured was worth it, even if deep down he feared it might not be true.

Perhaps in holding onto you, he was grasping for evidence that his life, his childhood, wasn’t a hollow, loveless, empty thing.

That his pain wasn’t for nothing.

That he wasn’t for nothing.

But he didn’t care about that now. There was no time to waste on this shit, no point in dissecting the nature of the need that burned inside him. He could question it all later, the whys and the hows, but right now, none of that mattered. It was the one right thing he had done in a life full of wrong turns and empty promises.

In this moment, there was no space for fucking doubt, no room for regret. It didn’t matter if it was love, or nostalgia, or some unnamable hunger—what mattered was that he had found his way back to you.

He knew that he was in the right place.

Right next to you.

Even if it was just a drabble, I feel like it helped paint Simon in a slightly different light, offering a glimpse into his deeper, more vulnerable side. I’m excited to share Part Five of Where We Part tomorrow (10.21.), so stay tuned for that! We’re nearing the end now, closing in on the moment of salvation, and I can’t wait for you to see where it all leads.