#who i don't think almost any of you know (but you should watch it its so fucking good) (especially the twewy folks

[lunar-fey]

I was tagged by @playtwewy . thank youuu :3

Rules: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite.

tagging @odysseys-blood @skerplesc @the-bastard-king @vaguely-annoyed @chicnstu

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro Notes : Short N Sweet <3 Neptune's Revenge

Neptune 1st House - Popular energy. Very well known for their beautiful, majestic energy. Could have a lot of haters but admirers at the same time. Energetically sensitive to alot of others emotions. Sometimes, it can be a lil confusing holding so much power. Because their energy can be mixed up with someone elses if they don't know how to tell the difference. They usually have a strong sense of self, its just other peoples opinions can get in away of that if they arent careful.

Neptune 2nd House - Could use some help on the financial train. They're organic to the way they use their money. I mean, they could be super horrendous spender, spending each and every dime on any and everything. While still some how always having more in their wallet. Or they could be pretty good at saving and are a little bit of a cheapskate.

Neptune 3rd House - Whimsical voices. Poetic writers. Creative thinkers. Very talented when it comes to the hands as well. Could be excellent drawers & painters. Neptune in the 3rd has an ability to travel to very interesting places that aren't too far at home. They may go on lil adventures here and there. But its always a treat. Its kinda strange how well they can be at finding good eats as well with all the travel they do. Could work abroad or go to college somewhere out of their comfort zone a lil.

Neptune 4th House - Has a lot of secrets when it comes to the inner child. Very free, sweet loving children. Can open a door to different realms like we're in Narnia or something. Angelic creatures who enjoy alone time near their favorite place. If they ever share that special place with you consider yourself lucky. They normally keep the things they cherish hidden for a long time.

Neptune in the 5th House - Artists who seek deep into the art and become it. Very creative & a one of a kind with the way they carry the emotion in what it is they do. Can have you thinking hard on what it is they are trying to convey, they are a master at making complexities more harder to figure out. Just be there in the audience and watch the show. You'll never leave the same again.

Neptune in the 6th House - Fun loving pet owners, they go hard for the planet and the creatures that come from it. Real advocates for change and don't take too kindly to insensitive people. Could need to sharpen their boundaries a little more with people. Also, are incredible writers and should tap into this side a bit more. You might end up surprised with what talents you have that could make you some money, or could be a really cool job.

Neptune in the 7th House - Romance is the thing that just keeps on given to these individuals. May need to put the rose colored glasses down. that man might not be for you, love. Don't forget to put more time into your own needs versus the needs of someone else. Your compassionate energy may run dry if you're not using that waterfall of emotion for yourself. People are drawn to 7th house neptunes alot more than you think. They are capable of seeing thru the veil, you just don't notice.

Neptune in the 8th House - Psychologically understands the reasons on why the universe is the way that it is and why the people in it behave the way that we do. Could be honest about a lot of things, dishonest about what they know. The world doesn't need to know everything, which is why the divine gifted them with certain antidotes. Only they can use this so bring healing to a certain nation (or individual) but not everyone can find this secret the way they can. This is normally given to them by spirit guides, ancestors, or thru drreams.

Neptune in the 9th - Impracticality is almost their birth right. They see things in a way that doesnt make sense at all but to them it means something. What I mean is that these people see the world bigger than what they people tell them. They could have big drams and not understand why they have them, but God put them their for a reason. So you can figure them out. You may want to travel and study abroad, or just move somewhere different and don't know how. Thats where all the magic happens, finding out and taking the risk. The sagittarian way.

Neptune in the 10th - Majestic auras. The highlight of the moment. The star. The siren. The energy healer. Do I keep going? Very special creatures who touched this earth to make their dreams come true, even if they have to figure it out themselves. Empathetic to the people around them and are big on helping out with anything whenever they can. The Queens & Kings of the law of attraction. Can attract what they want if they just believe it in it more.

Neptune in the 11th House - Community leaders. Ancients who know they way to what the true reality is meant to be like. Literally can change the world with the way they move, think, and go around helping others. Sweet and lovely people to be around. Needs healing in their own friend groups. Can be a little out there, but thats why people love them.

Neptune in the 12th House - Practical minds in a world that tells them their crazy. No they arent crazy, they just have multiple psychic gifts. And these gifts have a way in showing them things people aren't usually equipped with handling. They need more time alone and in nature to keep themselves grounded. Other wise, they will go crazy from the world telling them that their crazy... When really they know a little more than what they led on. The imagination is a fun place, but also a place where the most hidden becomes entirely to open. Seers of the daylight & the night.

[simpforrooster]

you're literally about to faint.

jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

summary: jakey ghosts reader after he graduated topgun and now that he's back, he needs to get her back.

t/w: cursing, mentions of blood [nothing too graphic], angst, rooster taking care of reader. jakey is afraid of blood. not proofread. ill do that later gators.

your arm wipes down the bar top with a mind of its own as you watch the naval aviators fill the hard deck.

so far, all the aviators are top gun graduates you’ve met at one time or another. natasha, bob, coyote. rooster stops by the bar for a hug. you let him go and admire the view as he joins natasha and bob at the pool table.

only one person is missing.

hangman.

jake.

taking stock of who’s here, hangman should be sauntering in any minute. they’ve called the best of the best back for…well whatever it is they’ve here for.

“well hell, i must’ve died and gone to heaven.” a southern-drawl fills the space behind you. holding strong, you don’t turn to him, making him step in front of the bar.

he decided not to wear his service khakis, instead donning a flannel and fuckin’ stetson cowboy hat.

ugh. he’s playing dirty.

his green eyes hold yours as he tips his hat to you.

that fucker.

jake slides into the stool across from you. “how’ve you been, love?”

rooster’s gaze tears a hole in the side of your face. you can hear him now. don’t get involved with hangman…again. he’s bad news.

too bad jake has proved just how bad he is.

jake swept you up in a passionate relationship while he was attending top gun. once he graduated, your plan was to stay in miramar, and he had no control over his deployment.

he left without a word. never called. never wrote. never visited on leave. you couldn’t believe it. rooster couldn’t even get the words “i told you so” out once he saw how truly heartbroken you were.

“how’ve i been? jake, it’s been three years.” tears prickle the back of your eyes and you pray they remain at bay. you’ve cried enough of this blonde man.

your grandmother always warned you against blonde men. now you know why.

a smirk sits on his beautiful face, and for a second, you think you spot his confidence falter. as quick as it happened, he steels his gaze. being, or looking weak, wasn’t something jake allowed to happen.

"oh come on, angel. it hasn't been that long," he says. his eyes move slowly across your face, like he's memorizing your features. or checking his memory to make sure he remembered you exactly.

you make yourself busy by drying glasses and putting them in their pyramid home. if you look at jake too long, he'll pull you right back in.

"you really lived up to your callsign, didn't you," you say to the glass and not him. "you sure did hang me out to dry."

this strikes a nerve, the words cut through him like butter. "y/n, that's hardly fair."

the glass in your hand slams to the counter, shattering in your hand. "fair? you know what's not fair? waiting for you. for anything from you." his eyes lock with yours and your chest heaves under the weight of finally getting these feelings out in the open.

"it's not fair what you did to me," the words are low, almost inaudible.

jake's gaze flits down to your mouth...no...your hand?

he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. he tries again, swollowing hard. he points.

looking down, you understand what he was trying to tell you, and now that the adrenaline has run it's course, pain shoots through your hand.

the two of you balk at each other, both paling. "baby, your hand," he breathes.

rooster immediately jumps into action. "hangman, you're in the motherfucking navy!" rooster rounds the counter and cradles your hand in a towel. he guides you to the bathroom.

"i'm not a fucking medic, asshole," jake shoots back, suddenly feeling better at the prospect of rooster taking care of your wound. tears fall down your cheeks, and you don't know if its the cut or jake.

jake is on rooster's heels as rooster thrusts your hand under the running water. "you did a number on this, girl." the nickname sends warmth through your body. rooster's hands fall to your hips and he boosts you onto the counter so he can get a better look at your hand.

jake falters taking in the two of you, rooster holding you like you're the most precious thing. soft 'shh's fall from his lips as he tries to calm you down. him standing between your legs with a little too much familiarity.

"okay, i get it," jake tells his shoes. "she's with you, so i'll just..." he gestures to the door.

"fuck," rooster swears under his breath. "we aren't together, seresin, and if you are hoping to earn another chance with her, you better get in here."

rooster has the would clean and wrapped. he steps aside, letting jake approach you. you cradle your hand to your chest, and jake has the decency to look sheepish.

"i don't do blood," he admits.

you manage to chuckle. "neither do i."

rooster rolls his eyes. "it's a good thing i stepped in, then. you two fools just staring at each other while y/n/n potentially bleeds out." rooster turns on his heels and out the door. "idiots," he mutters.

"he's right," jake sighs, "i am an idiot." he sets his hands on his hips, letting out a breath, his head falls toward the ceiling. "i know how long it's been."

"i was devastated, jake," you tell him. "the worst part was not knowing what i did for you to just ghost me."

he shakes his head, "nothing. you didn't do anything."

your hand falls to your lap, your shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world has fallen on them. "well, i mean if that's it." you slide off the counter, and make to step around him.

jake stops you. "can you just not."

"jake, if you're not going to have an adult conversation about this with me, then i have nothing more to say to you." jake walks you backwards, your bottom hitting the counter. more suave than rooster, he gently pushes you onto the counter.

your body betrays you by allowing goosebumps to form. jake smirks at this. "you lost a lot of blood. you need to sit," he murmurs in your ear. you feel woozy with him this close to you. every moment the two of you shared comes rushing back and you have to hold yourself back from grabbing the collar of his shirt.

"no i didn't, hangman."

"you're literally about to pass out," he points out.

"that's not from the cut," you admit.

a genuine smile spreads across his face. "that right?" he drawls.

shaking your head, you push him back. "i can't think when you're in my bubble."

"you've never complained before," he flirts. he cradles your face in his hands. "i'm sorry," he breathes.

the tension leaves your body at the apology and you lean into his touch. "i thought it would be easier not to have you. i've never done real. i've never felt the way i do about you with anyone. it felt...feels too real. i freaked out."

"you can't still have feelings for me after this long," you say.

jake tilts your face up toward his. "say that again looking at me."

"you can't--" jake stops you by bringing his mouth to yours. you melt into his touch and it feels like no time has passed. he pulls you flush against him, your legs coming around his waist.

"i couldn't bare to hear those ridiculous words come out of your pretty mouth again," he says against your lips. "of course i still have feelings for you."

"jake," you sigh. he changes the angle of the kiss, deepening it with a sweep of his tongue across your bottom lip. granting him access, you grip the bottom of his flannel with your good hand, pulling him as close as you can.

"tell me you don't feel the same thing and i will stop." his expert mouth works against yours for a moment longer before moving to kiss along your jaw. you crane your neck, making sure he has all the room he needs to linger those kisses along your neck and collarbone. which he does, and it drives you just as crazy as it did years ago.

"i told you i can't think when you're this close," you murmur.

jake chuckles against the soft skin of your neck. "good, then my plan is working."

"your hat is getting in the way," you tell him, placing your own kisses along his jaw.

"it's gone" he reaches up and grabs his hat, setting it on the counter.

"not forever, i hope. i do quite like it," you say, pulling his mouth back to yours. "you knew coming in wearing it was going to make me fold."

"it was one of my plans," he says, smiling against the kisses.

"one of them?" you push back, looking at him.

"i was prepared to do anything to get you back, darlin'."

you answer him with another earth-shattering kiss.

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[httpknjoon]

satellite | jjk

plot | Your friend, Jungkook, offers to help you while you review for your human anatomy exam.

w.c | 3K

genre | fluff, slight angst, fwb (but nothing 18+ happened)

pairing | jungkook x medstudent!reader

note | written from my own swamp of academic-related activities

main masterlist | playlist

JK

u up?

You

yep

i'm studying

exams tomorrow

JK

:(

can i come over

You

yes but don't be a distraction

JK

u know i can't help it 😪

You

🙄

i'm busy stop texting me

JK

will be there in five

You

door's open no need to knock

JK

see u 😉

Maybe you should have just pursued a course in creative writing... Or maybe culinary arts. Maybe something connected with baking. You love baking, right?

Maybe if you picked a college program based on your hobbies, you have better sleep. Maybe you are happier. At 11:51 PM, maybe you are already sleeping soundly on your bed, next to your emotional support stuffed toy, with your favorite weighted blanket on your exhausted being.

But you didn't. You can't.

So here you are, sitting in a swamp of written notes, books, and colorful post-its (that you haven't found any helpful use yet), having a crisis over your career choices.

"You want this, YN." you remind yourself, shaking your head.

Your digital clock on your study desk just ticked the time to 11:52 PM. It has been almost three hours since you began your planned all-nighter for tomorrow's exam.

"I want to cry." you sighed, your forehead softly hitting your desk. "But I don't have the time for that."

Groaning, you opened one of the textbooks you borrowed from the library. You tried to process every word you came across. But considering that you went straight from your eight-hour shift from your part-time job, you only managed to comprehend half of the sentences you read.

"I wish I was born as a nepo-baby."

Another random thought rolled off your tongue instead of understanding where the hell the spine of the scapula is. Admittedly, you find it hard to locate the muscles in the human body when you only have a 2D version of it. But you don't have those 3D models that can help you to learn and remember better, so you will settle for pointing your index fingers at flat images on the book pages.

"Trapezius... Acromion... Deltoid..."

Reciting the muscles in the familiar tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", you began pointing to certain areas of your body. It was one of the studying techniques you have been using since you were younger. So far, it's helping. You keep doing it for the other parts.

"Subscapularis..."

But the longer you sang, the words slowly rambled in your tongue and your eyelids got heavier. You were so close to drifting away until you heard the familiar click of your door. Your head snapped up instantly. You hear his voice greeting your roommate who's probably watching her favorite show in the living room.

"Pizza and ice cream. Want some?" you heard him offer.

He brought food?! Of course, he did. He's Jungkook. For the first time since you sat in front of your study desk, a smile formed on your lips. Shaking your head, you just read your notes again. It didn't take long for your bedroom door to open. The scent of a freshly baked pizza filled every corner of your room. And there, you see him coming in with a smile on his pierced lips.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous."

Jungkook was surprised to see you already looking at him when he entered your room. Usually, he would find your nose dipped between your textbooks when he visits during your study sessions.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, "I know, I looked like a mess right now. Just give me my prized pizza and ice cream please."

He laughed, not because he agreed with you, but because you are always quick to turn down his micro-flirting. He sometimes thinks that it keeps him grounded.

"And you got the coffee ones! This is why you're my favorite hookup buddy." you quipped before kissing his cheek, elated by the ice cream he got you.

"I'm honored. Thank you." he replied, before getting a slice of pizza.

Both of you know that you don't have any other hookup buddy. You're not that adventurous. It's just something you joke about.

"How's the studying going?" he asked before sitting on your bed.

"Shit." you shake your head, tired. "But this ice cream makes me feel a little better."

Jungkook smiled at that. He listened as you went on telling him about something that happened in your shift earlier today. But he ended up studying you. Because contrary to what you said earlier, you are too pretty, he finds it distracting. You were tired, it's written on your face. But the way your eyes light up as you share your story makes your face glow. With your desk lamp being the only light in your room, it perfectly highlights the small smile on your lips after you take another spoonful of the cold dessert.

"Why did you come here anyway?"

Your sudden question snaps Jungkook out of his daze. He cleared his throat.

"I-I'm bored and you're up."

He was not bored. In fact, he missed a party he was invited to tonight because it has been four days since he last saw you. He was busy with his training and practice, while you were working two jobs and studying. You two were just texting each other these days and with how rare you reply during the daytime, he knew that tonight is probably the best time to see you.

You sigh, "I told you, I'm studying for tomorrow. I can't do anything with you right now."

"And I didn't say we have to do anything. I'm just happy to be here. I'm like little Bear right there." he replied, pointing to your stuffed toy who was sitting next to him.

"Okay, I'll go back to studying. Is that okay?" you asked, putting on the lid of your half-finished ice cream.

He winked, "Of course."

Jungkook is that person you probably know for too long. Like, someone you should have met only once or twice or occasionally. Not like this, in which you see each other almost every day.

When Liz, your roommate, introduced you two to each other during some Halloween party, in which you came as Dorothy from The Wizards of Oz and he was Peter Pan, you did not expect to start any kind of connection with him. You remembered thinking to yourself how exhausting it was to have him around with how he seemed so full of energy, not knowing then that he also enjoyed the same little things you did. You two became real friends after bumping into one another in a record store an hour away from your uni.

Because you feel that you two always stood on opposite ends of any scale. You were a reserved working student with introverted tendencies while on the opposite, Jungkook is a known varsity star, who's rumored to be a CEO's son (He is. He admitted it to you), on campus with a charm that works for everyone.  Just like how great he is at playing basketball, he is equally good at socializing and making new connections. That charm definitely worked for you a year ago because one thing led to another and now, he is in your bed, casually scrolling on his phone.

"Why do you have a camera with you?" you broke the silence after reading for god knows how long. Yet, you are unsure if you picked up anything from it.

He looked up, reaching for the camera bag he brought with him earlier, "It's a new one, my dad brought it to me as a gift."

"For what? Your birthday was like three months ago," you asked even though you already had an answer in your head.

"I helped him with some documents," he replied, knowing that you would say something after.

"Spoiled." you teased him.

"Haters gonna hate," he responded with a sassy roll of his eyes, you laughed. "Anyway, I'm kinda testing it out. So, if you don't mind..."

He placed the camera in front of him, aligning its viewfinder to his left eye. You put the back of your hand under your chin with a tight smile on your lips, posing. Click. A shutter sound and a bright flash followed. You see Jungkook look down at his camera to check the outcome. A small smile forms on his lips.

"You have too many pictures of me," you told him.

Every single time you two are together, he takes a picture of you. You don't really mind even though some shots are candid. Some of the pictures of you he took are the only ones you have on your Instagram. He's good at it, but sometimes, you worry you will get used to being his muse.

"I'm thinking of making an exhibition out of it." he said.

Sensing his sarcasm, you ride on with it, "Yeah, you can title it with something like, The Life Of An Overworked Twenty-Something Student. I looked exhausted in all those photos. An ugly, dry potato."

"I think you look pretty in all of them."

And it didn't help that he complimented you a lot after taking pictures of you. It just scares you that you feel a light feeling in your stomach when you see him smile after taking a shot of you or when he calls you gorgeous or pretty.

But instead of letting the giddy feeling show, you just smiled, "Of course you do, you're sleeping with me. You will always find me attractive."

It was almost an hour later when Jungkook paused the video he was watching on his phone to once again try his camera. A camera nerd, he was watching a clip about his new camera's settings. Of course, he was in his earphones so that he wouldn't get to distract you.

After modifying some parts of the settings, Jungkook placed his camera in front of his right eye, ready to capture another picture of you. But before he could click the button, he noticed your shoulders shaking.

His right eyebrow raised as he slowly put down his camera.

"YN?"

He heard you hiccup before humming, "Hmm?"

"YN, can you look at me?" he asked since you kept your back turned to him.

"Not now, I'm busy." you sobbed, failing to hide from Jungkook.

He frowned, getting up from your bed, "YN, baby..."

"No, I said-"

Before you could continue denying, Jungkook already pulled the swivel chair you were sitting on closer to him. You covered your face with your palms since you hated crying in front of anyone. Jungkook tries to remove it softly but you shake your head.

"Please, let me see your face. It's okay," he whispered while his thumbs drew circles at the back of your hands. Finally, you listened and let him hold down your hands.

"Shh..." he hushed you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. "What's going on? Are you okay? Is there any way that I can help you?"

"I-I cannot remember anything and I'm just so tired." you broke down, feeling the exhaustion from both studying and working finally creeping up in your body.

"Then, take a break. Let's nap." he offered, knowing how much you need it.

You cried even more, "I can't nap. My exams are tomorrow and I can't understand anything I've been reading so far."

He clicked his tongue in disagreement, "I'll wake you up in thirty minutes. How about that?"

While his offer seemed ideal for you, the pressure for what is coming tomorrow is heavily sitting on your shoulders. But you're really tired.

"Just nap?" you asked, making sure that it won't lead to anything else.

"Yeah— Okay, maybe cuddle." he shrugged.

"Okay." I kinda need that.

"Okay. C'mere, my snotty baby." He cooed.

You glared at him before slapping his chest. He laughed, catching your hand and pulling you to him on your bed. You fell on top instead of your mattress, feeling his toned body under you. His chin rests on the top of your head as he draws circles on your lower back.

"Let's do anything you want after your exams," he mumbled.

You exhaled, "Why celebrate? I am not even sure if I can pass it."

"You will. You're the smartest person I know."

This isn't the first time Jungkook saw you broke down over academic reasons. He knew how much you value your studies as someone who has always been an achiever since you began studying. It didn't help that your mom expects quite a lot from you, based on what you told him.

You looked up to meet his eyes, "Thank you."

He simply kissed your forehead, "Of course, babe."

You did find yourself feeling much better after your 30-minute rest. But, you also found something else when you woke five minutes ago next to Jungkook. It's something that can probably help you study.

"Take off your shirt," you whispered as you rested your head on his arm.

"Why?" he asked, suspicious.

"I think you can help me study," you said, sitting up on the bed.

Jungkook sat next to you, "I thought we were just cuddling."

"Jungkook." you called him. "Please, just do it."

"Okay, I will. You know I can't say no when you beg, babe." he teased.

You watched him reach for the back of his shirt and remove it over his head. With how cold your room is, Jungkook immediately crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles bulge before you. You were quiet, squinting your eyes on his arms.

Feeling a little conscious and confused, Jungkook spoke, "It's a little chilly here. What now?"

"Wait, let me get my sticky notes."

"You know, I should be paid for this," Jungkook spoke, covered in neon-colored sticky notes from his neck to his back and arms. "I am like your model."

"You are my 3d model." you laughed while tracing his body with your finger to look where you could stick your next label. "I'm too broke to buy one so just be my friend and let me put some sticky notes on you."

"I'll just buy you one." he offered and he's serious. If it's something that can help you, he'll buy it for you.

"You sound like the spoiled kid you are." you joked.

"I like it when you keep me humble and grounded," he reacted sarcastically. Out of a hundred people he knows on the campus, you are the only one who always reminds him of his privileges. He found it annoying at first but now, he just finds it funny.

"I know, it shows especially when you get all submissive sometimes." you joked again, scrunching your nose at him.

"Why won't you just let me spend money on you?" he asked, recalling the other scenarios he tried buying or doing something for you. But you were quick to decline him, especially if it's connected with money.

You stopped and stared at him, "For the tenth time, Jeon, I will not be your sugar baby."

"Or you can just be my... baby," he whispered, but since you are the only awake people in this house at this time of the day, you still heard that.

Your eyebrows scrunched, looking at him. Visibly cringing at what he said, you pushed his face with a laugh. You hear him chuckle lowly.

"If you want someone to be your baby, you should be asking girls out, not signing up for a friends-with-benefits-type of relationship with me," you mumbled while writing a certain body part on your notepad.

It is part of your agreement that this thing you two have will end once one of you starts dating again. But the idea of him asking girls out after literally sleeping on your bed for the last twelve months still made your heart sink a little. You cannot imagine how your future will be without him, you still haven't thought that far.

"I know..." he whispered. But you're not up for any commitment. He wanted to say that. Instead, he replied, "But you give the best blowjob ever. How can I look for someone else?"

You laughed again. God, he loves making you laugh. It's like a melody playing in his head.

"Yeah, I know. It will be hard to find someone better than me. I'm the best."

Yes, you are. He agreed, almost saying it if you haven't spoke to soon.

"Now, please, can you stop moving? My notes are falling everywhere."

"Hi, I'm Mabel."

It's been days since that night. Now, a blonde, blue-eyed girl offered her hand to Jungkook while he prepared to leave the campus with his car after his basketball training. Jungkook, being polite, introduced himself even though he was not really interested. He continued making sure he got all his stuff in his backpack as the girl continued saying that they had two classes together. When he was done checking, she spoke,

"I think you're really cute and was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe we can grab some coffee together?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, feeling bad for what he was about to say to this seeming freshman before him. A tight smile forms on his lips. This isn't the first confession he got in his lifetime, but rejecting someone is always hard.

"Wow... uhm... I'm sure you're a really wonderful person, Mabel. But I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now. I'm sorry."

The familiar flustered face instantly showed up on Mabel's face, "Oh, okay. Uhm, thank you for your time. Nice to meet you though."

Jungkook was not even able to reply before she ran away. It didn't took him too long to dwell on that interaction when he got a message from you.

YN 🩺

I PASSED

COME OVER!!!!1!

Jungkook smiled after reading that, feeling your relief and excitement. He typed in a reply before hopping in his car.

JK

I KNEW U CAN DO IT

SO PROUD OF YOUUU

WILL BE THERE IN FIVE ;)

note | scheduled as my first post for 2025 :) thank you so much for reading!

ps. will probably delete this later on

taglist rules

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[realmsdelght]

A silver haired girl; Jacaerys Velaryon 

Jacaerys Velaryon x twin!reader Summary: a visit to a brothel leads to sharing feelings that had been buried deeply within the twins Note: italics are high valyrian. All of a sudden I found myself simping over my boy Jace and I don't think I can ever go back Warning: none, she's just a cute little drabble Word count: 866

The hour of the wolf was almost at its end when Prince Jacaerys returned to the Keep. He walked quietly through the halls after biding his stepfather good night, after a very loud and busy night, all he wished for was the quiet comfort of his own chambers. Once inside his chambers, he was met with a familiar figure lying on his bed. 

“How was your night?” His twin asked, not taking her eyes away from the carved dragons on the ceiling.

“It was… eventful,” the prince said as he stripped from his doublet, throwing it on the chair.

The princess pushed herself up to her elbows, watching as her brother removed his boots. “Eventfull?” She questioned, “You are aware that we all know where Daemon took you.”

Now, stripped to his comfortable clothes, the prince climbed onto his bed, lying down next to his sister. “It was interesting. I saw many different things and positions,” both siblings giggled at his remark. The twins stared at the ceiling, the silence between them was not uncomfortable, but both knew there were things they wished to say to each other. “But I did not do anything,” he tried to assure her, “I believe this visit was just to make acquaintances.” The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Jacaerys decided to get his sister’s attention again, “did you know that there are women that dye their hair to look like Targaryens?”

“I would imagine so,” her eyes traced the largest carved dragon.

“How so?” Jace was not an innocent child anymore, he knew the Targaryens’ Valyrian features were attractive, especially for the common people, but he did not imagine the people’s fascination with them went that far.

“I simply see the way men look at me, Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena. So I would imagine they would pay women to satisfy their fantasies,” she told her brother, who seemed disgusted by what she had just told him, “what is it?”

“I know people look at you, how could they not, you are beautiful. But it did not notice men would stare at you like that,” the princes felt guilty he never noticed how men acted towards his sister.

“Men are men Jace, they lustfull gaze does nothing but disgust me. And you didn’t notice because women don’t stare at men like men stare are us,” she hoped to ease the guilt she knew her brother was feeling, “you were probably only stared at like that today, I would imagine the girls at the brothel were very pleased to see you.”

The prince scoffed, “I do not have the Targaryen features people are fascinated by.” Out of Rhaenyra’s eldest children, Jacaerys’ twin was the only one who had silver hair and lighter eyes, and she knew it bothered her brother sometimes.

His sister turned to her side so she could face him, but his eyes did not leave the carved ceiling, “your eyes and eyes may be dark, but your face is that of a Targaryen,” at that, the prince shook his head, he did not wish for his sister’s pity. “You may deny it, but you look exactly like Mother, more than any of us do,” she pointed out. “So,” a mischievous smile appeared on her face, “which ones do you prefer, the silver or dark haired ones?”

At her question, she could see her brother’s cheeks burn a bright red, “sister! That is inappropriate,” his eyes remained on the ceiling, afraid to look at her.

“Why? We are twins, we should know each other’s preferences,” oh how she enjoyed teasing her brother, “I will tell you what I prefer.”

“Sister!” The prince turned on his side, his eyes finally meeting his twin’s.

She looked into his eyes as she spoke, “I prefer the dark haired ones.”

Jacaerys whispered her name as he moved closer to her, “we must not say things like that,” his forehead now touched her, “you are betrothed to our uncle,” her reminded his sister.

“And our uncle has dull silver hair,” she whispered in Valyrian, their preferred language when it came to secrets, “it is not fair that everyone does what they please and we hold back,” she reached over, taking his hand into hers.

“I do not wish to sully your honor,” he explained. His sister was now so close he could feel her breathing, “I love you too much to do that.”

“Jace,” she spoke softly, “I would like for you to sully my honor, please.”

The Prince’s hands went to his sister’s cheeks, pulling her into a deep kiss. The two Velaryons had yearned for each other and that kiss for so long, that they both got lost in the affection. The kiss was filled with longing and want, and as they deepened the kiss they held each other as if their life depended on it. The princess had never felt so loved as she did in that moment with her twin, Jace held her tight as the years of yearning spilled into one moment.

Once they pulled away to catch their breath Jacaerys opened his eyes, caressing his sister’s cheek, “I prefer one silver haired girl in particular.”

[chleem]

Casual /extra

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, slight angst (read at own caution

⋆.˚ official one shot here | extra2 | extra3

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

♡⸝⸝ "it's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Whose bra is this?”

Drew’s eyes dart to the source, feeling wary. Who else could be in his room right now?

Oh right. The girl he met last night. She’s wearing his t-shirt like it’s his, rummaging through his dresser. She turns around holding a red bra. Your red bra. 

Drew raises an eyebrow, looking at the girl skeptically. What’s her name again? He honestly has no idea, and isn’t planning on remembering. “I..I thought you left.”

“Let’s grab breakfast together,” she happily chirps, before returning to the bra in her hands, holding it as if it contained some deadly disease. “Now, who’s bra is this?”

Drew doesn’t reply; and the girl adds on, “is it the girl you moaned out last night?” 

Drew cocks his head to the side. What is this bitch on, he thinks. He sends her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, walks over, and snatches the bra out of her hands. He tugs it back in his dresser, pushing it close. “You should leave.”

He turns around and sees the graphic design that's on the shirt the girl's currently wearing. That’s the shirt you got him. One of his favorite. “Um, leave the shirt here.” 

It’s the girl’s turn to look at him skeptically. “What?”

“Yeah, uh, leave the shirt here, and forget this ever happened, alright?” 

Drew throws his towel over his gaming chair, and grabs his sweatpants. He puts it on, ignoring the shocked expression on her face. He lays down on his bed, picks up his phone, and starts scrolling through his messages. 

When she realizes that he doesn’t give a shit, she angrily takes the t-shirt off, throwing it into his face. “Thanks,” Drew says rather sourly, putting it to the side. She puts on her dress from last night, grabbing any remaining clothing around the place. 

“We have class together, you dick!” She yells, as if that would make Drew care. 

He hums, obviously too focused on his phone. Only the slam of his room door makes him slightly flinch, but even so, his eyes go back to his phone.

Now, what was he so focused on? Well, texting you. 

——

I’m at the soccer field

This simple text was enough to get Drew out of his dorm, walking as fast as he could to go see you. 

A smile on his lips that appear on its own, just from seeing you sit on the bleachers, watching the soccer team practice. Or more, get yelled at by their coach. 

You don’t even notice him sit down beside you; too engrossed in the music coming from your AirPods. 

It’s when he takes one AirPod out of your ear, when you finally notice him. “Hey,” he breathes out, putting the AirPod into his own ear.

“Hi,” you smile, your eyes landing on his shirt. Oh. He’s wearing the shirt you got him as a gift a few months ago, for Christmas. He wears it quite often, but every time you see it on him, warmth still fills your stomach. “Nice shirt, handsome.”

“Really?” He nudges your knee with his. “An amazing girl got me this.”

He says stuff like this; that makes you wonder if it’s still casual. 

“Interesting,” you lean in closer to him, your eyes glancing down at his lips and then at his eyes. You haven’t seen him in almost two weeks; due to spring break. Mentally, you were glad to be away from Drew, to clear your mind a bit. Physically? Well, let’s just say sexting was not as satisfying as the real thing. 

“What song is this again?” He suddenly asks, smiling fondly at you. You get ready to answer, but Drew beats you to it, replying to his own question. “The Smiths, right?” 

You mimic the ding noise, making him chuckle under his breath. “You know me so well,” you say, bit of sarcasm in your voice. Duh, he knows a lot about you; casual for more than five months at this point.

“Of course.” he’s smiling ear to ear. 

You roll your eyes at his response, but feel your own smile growing. You lean down against his shoulder, looking out onto the field. The weight of looking into his eyes was getting heavy. 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, until you speak up. 

“That guy has been yelled at by the coach ten times already.”

You feel Drew’s chest vibrate against you, his laughter erupting softly. “Ten times? What a dumbass.”

You chuckle softly, only because Drew finds it funny. “But the coach was being a meanie.”

The said guy has the ball now, and when he attempts to score it in, he misses and falls onto the ground. That causes the coach to yell at him again. “Well, eleventh time,” Drew adds on. 

“Next Fifa champion,” you add on. Drew laughs again, as if that joke was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. You pull away from leaning on his shoulder, and stare at his smile. “Was it that funny?” You ask. 

He turns his head over to you, the smile still there. Or more like, ever since he sat down, his lips were always curled up. “You should be a comedian.”

That makes you laugh, and you push his shoulder, “nonsense.”

Your laughter dies down when you see how smitten his stare on you is. 

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back to your eyes, “I missed you.”

Casual, casual, casual.

“You did?” You cock your head to the side flirtatiously. Part of you thought it was fun to flirt with Drew; to hear the nice things he has to say about you. The other part of you hated how sweet Drew was with you; when the two of you were just ‘casually’ sleeping together. 

“Think I’ve already said that over text though,” his voice drops low, and he starts to lean close to you. The look on his face says it all; he wants to kiss you.

“Flatter me and tell me in person too, won’t you?” You continue to say, a smirk on your lips. 

He leans forward and kisses your cheek gently, “how ‘bout I show you instead?”

Oh. Oh. The butterflies are throwing up in your stomach right now, because of this man’s sly mouth. How he just casually brings up wanting to have sex with you, within minutes of seeing each other. 

Seems like he really does miss you. 

Casual, casual, casual. 

“How is one suppose to refuse to that?”

“Hmm,” he hums, and his eyes glued to your lips tell you everything; his mind is already elsewhere, imagining the most dirty things to do with you. Or, what he’s going to do with you. 

He leans in, this time, kissing you on the lips. His tongue meets yours hungrily and lustfully, exploring every corner. He kisses you as if it’s the only way for him to breathe, only way for him to live on. 

You hate that; yet you kiss him back with the same eagerness. 

Make-out session at the bleachers? How romantic. How sweet. How casual. 

You pull away, feeling breathless from how good his kisses are. And you too realize that you missed him too, something you don’t want to admit. Because, who misses someone you only see casually? That’s weird.

His eyes are still glued to your lips, and you see a small trail of saliva near the corner of it. You chuckle softly, wiping it off with your thumb. “You know…”

He hums yet again, even though you haven’t even gotten to the main point of your sentence. “…I got a gift for you….in my room,” you manage to breathe out, and he kisses your jaw. 

Aka, let’s go have sex in my room, right now. 

“How lovely,” he smiles against your neck, planting a kiss there. 

“You wanna see it?” You run your hands through his hair, down his nape, fingertips scratching it lightly. That makes him bury himself deeper into your neck, his arms wrapping around you.

“Yes please.”

——

The moment you unlocked your room, Drew rushes you inside, until you land on the soft cushions of your couch. 

You giggle, watching him take his top off, his legs on either side of you, caging you onto the couch. “Should I continue my story or no?”

“Mmm, lemme guess,” Drew remains eye contact with you, but his hands focus on undoing the zipper of your shorts. “Everyone got food poisoning, just because of you.”

You lift your hips, him pulling your shorts down, “everyone was rushed into the ER.”

Drew laughs, ushering you to sit up. He pulls your top over your head, leaving you only in your bra and underwear. “And still you insist on cooking for me.”

“Only because you always ask to stay in,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Making me improvise on dinner.”

“Mmhm,” he stares down at your lips, distracted like always. He kisses you sloppily, his hands running along your back. You moan into his mouth, as he pushes you down onto the pillows. 

“I miss you,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently on the area around there;

The angel on your shoulder likes the sweet things he says; the devil on the other side likes to doubt his every word, repeating the phrase in your ear:

Casual, casual, casual. 

One hand kneads your thigh, the other pinning your waist to the couch. His lips move onto your breasts, where they skillfully move around the bra. He wraps his lips around your nipples, making you gasp in pleasure. 

But the bra starts to feel itchy, which you breathe out, “just take it off.”

He smirks against your nipples, pulling away just to unclip your bra. You help him, pushing the bra off, discarding it on the floor. He leans down again, this time, sucking on the other breast. 

“Fuck..” You moan, as he stops, trailing his lips down your stomach. He leaves soft kisses along your belly button, his fingers working with pulling your underwear down. 

“Missed you.” 

This time, he says it while looking down at your pussy. 

The air hits your wet pussy, soon cut off by Drew’s warm palm. 

“Wet already,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your folds. Too consumed with lust, you don’t even reply to that comment. 

He sticks two fingers into you, thrusting in a slow pace. “You’re tight,” he breathes out, kissing your neck. 

You wrap your arms around his neck lazily, “haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Forever, huh?”

“C’mon, don’t act like its not the same for you-“ he adds the third finger, cutting off your sentence. You moan loudly, as he starts to move in a faster pace. Swear, you can cum just on his fingers alone. 

He smiles against your face, and kisses your ear. Occasionally, he grunts, trying to stretch you out as much as he can. 

Okay. Maybe you could cum on his fingers alone, but it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing. “I want you,” you manage to say between moans, his fingers working hard on your pussy. 

He kisses your forehead, “good to know.”

What a teasing prick. You squeeze his bicep, hoping he gets the message. It’s not easy to talk when he’s got his fingers deep in you. You give him a lazy glare; and he just laughs, “I’know.”

He pulls out of you, and you immediately clench around nothing, your folds missing Drew. He gets entirely off of you, and walks into your bedroom.

Drew knew where you kept the condoms; since, well, he’s constantly fucking you. 

You stare at the ceiling while waiting for him. 

A few seconds of silence passes.

“Y/n!” He yells, before walking out a few seconds later. You turn your gaze to him, who’s holding the entire box of condoms in his hands. He smiles wryly, “it’s expired.”

You furrow your eyebrows, sitting up slightly. He walks over to you, showing you the date on the box. Yeah, it is expired. But you bought this a few weeks ago. Wait…

“No wonder it was so cheap,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch pillow. 

“This shit…won’t break that easily, right?”

You glance at Drew. He looks at you, hoping you would agree to his thought. His eyes shine in anticipation, the curl of his lips upwards. “…I guess?”

“I’ll…even pull out before I cum,” he shrugs, also hoping you would agree. 

“I… I take pills,” you add on, ignoring the calls of ‘bad idea!’ going on in your mind. Lust was in charge now, and it’s commanding you to get fucked by Drew, even with the huge amount of risks it comes with. 

He breaks into a smile, leaning down and kissing you. “Hey…so it’s okay?” He murmurs against your lips, an adoring look painted all over his face. 

“Have I ever said no though?” You say, which makes him chuckle. 

“True,” he replies, before taking a condom out of the box. You help him, by pulling his sweatpants off. He steps out of them, and you see his fully erected dick, screaming to be released from his boxers. 

“All fours,” his voice drops deeper, commanding you into the position he wants. 

You obey; shrugging your underwear off your knees, getting on your knees and elbows. You arch your back, to make your ass higher. You feel him dip on the couch behind you. 

He stays behind you, the noises of him preparing the only sound in the room. It feels like minutes have passed, and he still hasn't stick it in. “You done?” You ask, unable to mask the impatience in it. 

Drew replies with a hard slap to your ass, making you groan. He then asks, “did you buy this for someone else?”

“What?”

“Not only is it expired…but you got a smaller size,” he plants a kiss on your lower back. 

“What?” You say again, turning your head to look behind you. He holds the packaging in his hands; an M written on it. Oh. “That isn’t your size?”

He snickers, “you serious?” You must have just grabbed the first pack on the shelf, not checking anything. Drew delivers another rough slap to your asscheek when he doesn’t get a reply from you. It hurt, but in a good way. “Babe, you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you sarcastically reply, before laying your head onto the couch pillow in front of you. At this point, you’re pretty sure your pussy isn’t even wet anymore. 

But another hard slap to your other asscheek makes you jolt up, your brain betraying you by making you moan out. “Barely fits me.”

Can’t believe you’re attracted to this whiny man. “I’ll pay more attention next time,” you try to hide your annoyance, “just fuck me already.”

His hands grab the side of your hips, moving your ass to the right position. “Might slip off.”

What’s up with him right now? Is he seriously offended? You just bought the wrong size by accident, was it that big of a deal? “It won’t,” you assure him, “my fault, okay? Just put it in.”

“Fine. Fine, sorry,” he murmurs. 

You feel the tip of him against your hole, as he aligns his dick. And then, he sticks his entire dick inside of you. You moan out in pleasure, clenching around it. Fuck. He was right; you were tight, and you needed a few seconds to adjust to him. 

But Drew doesn’t let you; starting to slam his lower body into you, in a rather rough manner. 

Clearly, he’s not sorry for being whiny. 

“Shit,” you grip on the pillow harshly. “Slow the fuck down-“

He ignores your comment, continuing his pace. Drew rarely fucked you liked this, only if he’s putting his frustration or anger towards you. “Does this feel like an M?” You hear him grunt out, between thrusts. 

Who knew wrong sized and expired condoms could frustrate Drew this much?

You're forced to adjust to his size and pace, ignoring how each thrust that directly hits your core hurts a bit. “Fuck,” you breathe out, the pleasure inside of you building. His hands grip on your waist tightly; soft bruises might form later. 

His grunts and your soft moans fill the room, as well as loud, aggressive skin-slapping. 

He leaves sloppy kisses along your spine, causing your goosebumps to rise. You weren't going to lie; it felt good to be roughly handled by Drew.

You’re close; feeling the orgasm building inside of you. He knows it too; you clench around his dick. “Someone likes getting fucked roughly,” the tease in his voice is evident, “fucked like a slut, huh?”

Yeah. When Drew was mad or angry, he degrades you in bed. 

But you liked it, a moan you fail to repress escaping your lips. He slaps your ass again, a chuckle heard. “Cum then.”

He slams himself into you, his pace never slowing. The knot in your stomach eventually goes undone, your cum coating his dick. “Fuck..” He groans, as you relax yourself. He holds your ass up, continuing to thrust to help his own orgasm. 

He twitches inside of you; he’s close. 

Drew slows down after a few more, and you fell him pull out of you rather urgently. You completely fall on your stomach on the couch, your body giving up. 

But you force yourself to turn around, laying on your back. Drew sits back on the couch, his head leaned back as his cum fills the condom. He’s right; the M size condom covers 2/3 of his dick, probably not even half when he was erected. 

“I’m sorry,” you coo, a lazily smile on your lips. 

His expression softens; “Come here,” he takes the condom off, wrapping it and throwing it in the garbage can nearby. You force yourself up with the little energy left inside of you, snuggling yourself in Drew’s arms. You trace your fingertips along the lines of his lower stomach, laying your head on his chest. You and Drew’s legs tangled together, due to the small couch. 

The two of you stay silent, just enjoying the feeling of simply being in each other’s arms. 

This was casual, apparently. Cuddling after sex. Something people who have no attachments with each other usually do. 

Then, you suddenly joint up, causing Drew to look at you amusingly. “Wait, I actually do have a gift for you.”

“Really? You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, but the look on his face betrays him. He likes how you think of him when you’re away. You hum, getting off him and walking to your room. 

You come back with a small box, straddling yourself around his waist. You bite down on your lips in anticipation, hoping he likes it. He takes it; opening the box to reveal a men’s chained bracelet. 

It wasn’t from a luxurious brand, but you found it while shopping in your hometown, and thought it would look good on Drew.

He smiles ear-to-ear, “I love it.”

“No you don’t,” you chuckle, helping him put it on on his wrist. 

“I do; I love it, thank you,” he kisses your cheek, raising his hand and wrapping it around your nape. He pulls you down, and kisses you, almost in a loving way. Besides from seeing the smile Drew has whenever you get him something, the way he kisses you after also drives you insane. 

Casual, casual, casual.  

“Round two,” you murmur with a smirk on your lips, pulling away. He chuckles, before his eyes look down to your breasts. 

He bites down on his lip, obviously liking what he's seeing. Then, he shares the same look as you from earlier, remembering something. “Oh, your favorite bra, the red one?”

“...Yeah?” You cock your head to the side, wondering where this was going.

“It was in my dresser this entire time.”

“I knew it!”

“Found it the other day.”

“And… are you going to return it to me?”

“No.”

You slap his chest playfully, him sending you a cocky grin. “You got a bunch of other bras anyways.”

“Doesn’t compare to that one,” you pout, leaning down on his chest, hugging him. You lay your ear close to his heart, hearing the soft rhythm of it. 

It’s moments like this; that doesn’t feel casual at all. 

And maybe, it never will feel casual. At least for you. You weren’t the chill, flirtatious girl Drew knew, no, deep down, you were constantly doubting this situation-ship with him. Letting it drag so long, so long that it didn’t feel real anymore. 

Your stupid mind, constantly dreaming of the future with him. A shared apartment, shared furniture, shared everything. Him showing you off to his friends, admitting you’re someone special to him. 

You loser, he doesn’t even refer to you as a friend in front of others. Simply, a classmate. Fuck, you even visited his parents! Yet, he still denies. Everyone knows you two have something going on, except for Drew. Was he doing this on purpose? 

You don’t know; and honestly, too scared ask.

Because somehow, staying casual with him was better than not having him at all. 

The soft rhythm of his heartbeat helps you to slowly drift off into sleep, the thoughts disappearing. Hopefully, you don’t dream of Drew again, in a nice shared apartment, him showing you off to everyone, as his girlfriend. 

Was this dumb love? Maybe. Possibly. Most definitely. 

-------------------------------

word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this! and this isnt an official part two, but rather, another 'pov' into being in a situationship with kinda-toxic drew. for better context, you can read the actual one shot here. i don't think there is going to be an official part two, bc i like this the way it is (sry!) and yes, inspired by chappell roan.

ngl...i don't like this writing as much....but i love the fluff parts! anyways, thx for reading and pls ignore any mistakes <3

elevator | other | official one shot | extra 2 | extra 3

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: smut that was requested for kinktober last year

summary: dark!nat, dom!nat, g!p nat; nat’s an assassin

warnings: blood, murder, weapons, semi-public sex, choking, belly bulge, gagging (?), implied breeding kink. i don't even know at this point

word count: 4.4k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

>> The Black Widow is known for its striking appearance and deadly mating habits. After mating, the female sometimes kills and consumes its mate, a behavior that has made it infamous. This act of cannibalism, though not guaranteed, has earned the Black Widow a reputation as a dangerous and cold-blooded predator. <<

Natasha wipes her hands as she steps back from the bed. A sliced throat and widened, empty eyes. Mouth open in a silent gasp, fingers loose, chest unmoving. Blood has soaked into the once white bedsheets, a dark crimson color that almost appears black. She examines her work with appreciative eyes, then she swiftly cleans the blade of the knife with the man's silk robe.

She turns around, taking in the bedroom once more — velvet armchairs, placed next to a small table with a bottle of whiskey on it. Framed artwork by well-known artists, an antique clock on the wall. Timeless luxury, way too nice for someone like him. No trace of his connection to the Red Room. Not a single sign of the suffering he's caused.

A box of jewelry catches her eye. She never leaves without a souvenir, so she pops open the lid and fishes out a diamond ring. One that you'll surely like; you always value her little gifts.

Natasha exits the house just like she entered it: deftly, quietly, and without leaving any cue that she was ever there.

. . .

You look up when the door to your apartment opens. It's long after midnight, the kids dressed in costumes have disappeared from the streets hours ago and you have been wondering where your girlfriend is.

"Hey", you say when she enters, eyes raking over her. A black bandana is covering her entire face except for her eyes — piercing green, burrowing into your soul with a kind of ease that's both impressive and unsettling —, and her hands are covered by fingerless gloves. You don't miss the smudges of blood on her fingertips.

"I brought you something", Natasha says, not bothering to greet you first. She plucks a ring out of the pocket of her leather jacket, dropping it into your open palm. "Not sure if it's your style."

You slide it onto your ring finger and inspect it, giving a short hum. So this is where she was.

"It's nice." A blatant lie, but you don't care. Who are you to reject something she gives you?

"It's 'nice'?" She tugs the bandana off, unveiling her face, all while keeping firm eye contact with you. "That's it?"

"It's pretty", you add, watching her move around the room. Natasha seems completely unfazed, just like always. You're not an idiot — you know damn well what she does, where she goes. You know she keeps adding to the long list of victims she hides so well, but you can't bring yourself to care. A messed up part of you even thinks it's hot. "Expensive, too."

"Expensive my ass. You know the material value doesn't matter." She opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, taking a few sips. "What've you been up to all night?"

"Ate dinner. Watched a few movies." You join her in the kitchen, watching her leave bloody fingerprints on the glass bottle.

Natasha hums, turning her head to look at you. Sweatpants, a loose top, looking all tired and ready for bed. She puts the bottle aside before moving closer, backing you into the corner of the kitchen counter.

"Sounds boring", she says quietly, her hands coming up to rest on your waist. More blood, this time staining your clothes. She looks down at your hand, at your ring finger, where the expensive piece of jewelry is sitting. Something about her expression changes — suddenly, it looks stony, bordering on rough. "You know, I don't like this ring on you. It should be in a box somewhere, not on your finger."

You pause at the irritation in her voice. For a moment, you're confused — she brought you this ring, so why is she suddenly pissed? But then the realization hits you, and you start feeling stupid.

She isn't the one who picked this ring out, who bought it for you — so you shouldn't wear it.

"I'll take it off", you say quietly, sliding the ring off your finger and setting it on the counter behind you. "It's not exactly my size, anyway."

Natasha hums, the tension seeping out of her body. She's loving it. The way you're looking at her, like she's your savior and your worst nightmare wrapped up into one. Your voice, meek and soft, with that perfect pinch of fear. She's doing this to you, she's the one who has full control over you.

"You should've joined me", she suddenly says, reminding you of what she's been up to tonight. You pause, eyes filled with uncertainty as you look at her.

"I'm not exactly sure it's my type of activity", you say vaguely, a hint of an apology in your voice.

"Oh really?" She hums, her fingertips brushing under the fabric of your top. "I'm sure it'd be fun. Watch the life drain out of their eyes and whatnot. A really romantic setting."

"Right." You smile slightly as she presses a kiss to your mouth. A taste like spiced honey, sweet with a slow-burning warmth. Cinnamon and cloves, fogging your senses. You push against her, wanting more, but she pulls away.

"Don't be needy", Natasha says, giving you a small smirk before stepping away. "There's this party tomorrow. Are you joining?"

"Is it an after-Halloween thing?", you ask, straightening out your top as you try to ignore the desire coursing through you. Nothing is going to happen tonight, that's almost certain.

"Not really. Just a party."

"Where?"

Her eyes flicker up, amusement and exasperation visible in them. "It's just a party, babe. Now tell me: are you joining?"

You sigh, leaning against the counter. You eye her with mild suspicion — who knows where she'll end up dragging you — but eventually, you cave. "Yeah, sure. Why not."

"Good." She nods, shrugging off her jacket. She's only wearing a tank top underneath, despite the cold fall air, but you're secretly very thankful — her arms come into view, biceps flexing slightly and way too briefly. Then she looks up again, and your gaze meet hers. "Wear something nice."

. . .

Wear something nice — an innocent enough request, but when Natasha says something like this, it has an entirely different meaning.

You spend two hours in front of your closet, digging through dresses and skirts and whatever you have in there. Eventually, you decide on a mesh dress in a dark shade of plum, a rich muteness in its color. A square neck and thin shoulder straps, curve-hugging and leaving little to the imagination. You slip it on, adjusting it slightly without noticing that Natasha is watching you from the doorway.

"Not bad", she finally says, making you turn around. "May I suggest something?"

You watch her as she comes closer, arms wrapping around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. "What?"

"Ditch the bra", she mumbles against your ear, briefly kissing it. "Underwear too, while you're at it."

You pause, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You want me to...?"

"You heard me, didn't you?"

You hum, looking at her through the mirror. Natasha shoots you an expecting look, her hand lightly squeezing your tummy.

"The fabric is quite thin, you know", you say quietly, hoping that'll get her to change her mind. But she just shrugs, still kneading your flesh.

"Fine", you eventually say, causing her lips to twitch into a small, satisfied smirk. She presses a kiss to your shoulder before stepping away again, her one hand shoving into the pocket of her slacks. "Can you at least tell me what your plan is?"

"No", she says innocently, grabbing her gun from the desk before she steps towards the door again. "It'd ruin the surprise."

"Right", you say slowly, watching her leave.

. . .

You didn't mind your lack of underwear while you were at home, or in the car. But now that you're in a crowded room, surrounded by what seems like hundreds of people, you start feeling flustered. You feel exposed, like everyone can see right through you. Which, of course, isn't the case — the dress is definitely long enough to conceal your lack of underwear, and even the fact that you're not wearing a bra isn't as obvious as you thought it'd be. But you know you're not wearing underneath that stupid dress, and that's enough for you to be mildly uncomfortable.

Natasha, however, is loving it. Her arm stays firmly wrapped around your waist as you enter, keeping you close to her side. Her eyes flicker across the room, almost as if she's searching for someone.

"So?", you ask after a few minutes, glancing at her.

"What?", she murmurs reluctantly.

"Well-" You vaguely gesture at your surroundings, still not sure what you're doing here. "Where are we? Whose party is this?"

"Oh." She smirks, squeezing your side before she mumbles into your ear. "If I tell you, you'll leave."

"Of course", you mutter, shifting again and pulling at your dress to readjust it. Natasha notices your unease, so she lightly digs her fingertips into your side.

"Calm down", she mumbles with her mouth next to your ear, her voice low and dark. "No one can see anything. Stop fidgeting."

You huff quietly, reluctantly releasing your dress from your hands. "It's uncomfortable", you complain, a hint of defiance seeping through. Natasha arches her eyebrow at you, leaning in closer as her fingertips dig into your skin.

"Is that attitude I detect?"

You stare at her, quickly intimidated. You shake your head, forcing your expression to be neutral again as you back down. You're in public, but that doesn't mean you should be stepping out of line. "My bad."

Natasha hums, her hand sliding down to your butt for a moment. A light squeeze of approval, then she keeps dragging you through the crowd. So many people, all of them clearly wealthy. Businesspeople, probably — but you're not sure, and Natasha still refuses to tell you.

She doesn't seem to know anyone, either. A few people introduce themselves to the two of you, but you barely pay any attention. Some guy, maybe in his 50s, stops with the obvious intention of raking his eyes over you a few times. You're fully aware why — it's just the tiniest bit too cold, and the thin fabric of your dress is doing a poor job at hiding your discomfort.

When he reaches out his hand to shake yours, Natasha's eyes narrow. It's one step too far, you both know that, so you quickly pretend to be busy with brushing some hair behind your ear and swiftly avoid touching him. He pauses, startled, before pulling his hand back and going back to whatever he was doing before approaching you.

"Quite the move", she says quietly, her voice appreciative, and rubs your side. "Good girl."

You smile, pleased that you managed to satisfy her.

The people milling around the party stop you every now and then, trying to make small talk. Natasha forces herself to engage in polite conversation, her hand wrapped around your waist the whole time. She notices everyone's eyes trailing over your body, not-so-subtle glances and very obvious stares. It's irritating her, which shows in the way her voice changes.

"You seem to be quite popular with the men."

"It's the damn dress", you mutter, your body slightly turned towards her as you keep pushing past smaller groups.

"No", Natasha says gruffly, her hand firm on your waist. The dress may be revealing, accentuating all the right spots, displaying smooth skin. But in the end, the dress is just a dress. "It's you."

You feel your cheeks growing rosy. Clearing your throat, you start adjusting your dress again in hopes to keep the fact that you're currently going commando underneath it concealed. "Maybe both."

Natasha's hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and stopping you from fidgeting. She pulls your hand away from the fabric, her grip firm and unwavering. "Stop fidgeting. We've been over this already."

You give a frustrated huff, shooting one of the staring men an angry, petulant glare. He lifts his hands in defeat, turning around and returning to the woman he was talking to seconds earlier. "I hate the male species."

"Careful, baby", she says, trying to suppress a smirk. Something about the way you lifted your chin in defiance, silently telling the man to fuck off, pleased her immensely. "Let's not cause a scene, hm?"

You hum at her words, your eyes flitting up to meet hers again. You shrug, glancing at the gun that's subtly tucked into her holster and hidden by her blazer. "Why not?", you ask, bringing your mouth closer to her ear. "Causing a scene is your specialty."

"True." She grabs your chin with her free hand, pushing your face away from hers. "Still, I'd rather we get out of here soon. But first —" She pauses, subtly nodding at a man who she's been watching the entire night, "we need to make a detour."

We? Wait, we? You stare at Natasha as her words replay in your head, over and over again and slowly causing you to grow sick to your stomach. A detour. You should've known what that fucking gun was for. Maybe you were in denial.

"We, as in-"

"We as in we", she says impatiently, briefly looking at you. "I need someone to keep watch. There are too many people here for my liking."

No room for argument, that's for sure. You exhale shakily, trying to calm your quickly accelerating heartbeat. "At least tell me who they are."

"No. The less you know, the better."

"Natasha", you say seriously. Surprised by the sudden hardness of your voice — and, also, mildly annoyed —, she grabs your wrist and yanks you closer. A wince escapes you, but you keep talking anyway, your voice a pained whisper. "If I'm involved in this, I at least want to know whether he deserves it."

Her eyes flicker across your face. She's not bothering to hide how unhappy she is with you right now. "He deserves it", she says, keeping her fingers locked around your wrist. "Now stop questioning me and do as told."

Reluctantly, you nod. Natasha turns her attention to the guy again, watching him. She quickly fishes out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen. Moments later, the man excuses himself and starts heading towards a hallway. Natasha pulls you along wordlessly, eyes trained on her target as he disappears down the dark corridor.

He enters an office, the door closing behind him with a soft 'click'. Natasha lets go of you as she reaches for the doorknob.

"Wait here and keep watch."

She doesn't even bother glancing at you before she slips into the office, shutting the door after her.

For an agonizingly long moment, you hear nothing. Utter silence, apart from the sounds coming from the party and your own quiet, ragged breathing. Your heart is thumping in your chest, and you're unable to focus on anything else but trying not to freak out.

When you hear a gunshot — too quiet for anyone else to hear, but definitely loud enough for you to perceive it —, you finally snap out of it. Eyes wide, heart hammering, you turn around.

Hand on the doorknob, twisting it. Pushing the door open.

You look at Natasha, taking her in — no, drinking her in. The blood splattered across her neck and chest, the way her eyes look almost black. Her slightly uneven breathing, the gun in her hand. A smell of gunpowder, acrid and strong, mixed with something metallic and sharp. Adrenaline is pumping through her veins, the tension in the room palpable when your gazes meet.

You didn't expect to feel this way, but you can sense the heat that's beginning to stir in your stomach. Anxiety gives way to desire when she reaches out her hand — a silent command to come over — and you cross the room in a few, quick steps.

Natasha tugs you closer, her lips brushing against your cheek. "Look at the mess I've made", she says quietly, and you follow her gaze to the man lying on the ground. You look at her again — blood splattered across her chest and neck, her eyes trained on you.

You bring your hand up to wipe away a bit of blood that landed on her jaw. "It's hot", you eventually manage to mumble.

"Hm?" She raises her eyebrows, her hands sliding to the small of your back. "Didn't know you were into that."

"Me neither." You wrap your arms around her neck as you nuzzle your nose against hers, your desires clear. It's rare that you're this forward with her, but for the first time in a while, Natasha doesn't seem to mind. She can feel herself getting hard already, your perfume and everything you've said making her head spin.

"Such a little minx", she rasps out, palming at your sides as she starts peppering kisses along your jaw. "Can't believe this shit turns you on. You're fucking insane."

A soft moan slips past your lips. You lift your leg out of instinct, hugging your thigh against her side. Natasha quickly runs her hand down to the underside of your thigh, gripping and massaging the smooth skin. "Fuck me", you whine into her ear, wiping all thoughts out of her brain.

With one swift movement, she clears all the papers and pens off the desk. Then she grabs your thighs, hoisting you up and letting you drop down onto the desk. Her lips are all over you immediately, mouthing at your neck and leaving her marks.

"So greedy", she pants against your skin. Her hands slide up your thighs, pushing up your dress and bunching it up around your hips. "Tell me what you want."

"You", you somehow manage to gasp out. You're hot and flushed all over, your breathing is ragged. A tight coil has started to form inside of you, sparks of need frying your brain into a lump of uselessness. Natasha hums, a quiet, rumbling sound coming from her chest, and moves one of her hands up into your hair. She grabs a fistful and tugs your head back, eliciting a whimpered moan from you.

"I need you to use your words, baby."

"Please." You squeeze your eyes shut, fully aware that you sound absolutely pathetic. "I want you inside of me."

A low groan escapes her. Natasha kisses your pulse point, her teeth grazing over the sensitive spot. "You're so desperate", she mumbles, finally letting go of you to unbuckle her belt. "Begging to be filled up like a whore."

You stifle a sound of want, feeling like you've been set on fire. You bury your face against her neck when she pulls you closer again, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over her skin. A metallic taste of blood, mixed with the bitterness of her perfume. A quiet sigh morphs into a low moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness.

"Soaked already", she mutters, lifting her hand and slips her fingers past your lips. You suck them into your mouth, tasting yourself on her fingers as you lap at them. Her eyes darken at the sight — so simple, yet there's something so erotic about it. Testing your limits, she pushes deeper and earns a soft gag from you. "Always so eager to please."

She shoves her fingertips against the back of your tongue. Another gag, this time louder, and you feel yourself tearing up. You can see Natasha  through a blur of tears, watching the scene in front of her unfold with fascination, her eyes dark and her breathing heavy.

Satisfied, she pulls her fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

"You're doing so well", she praises, grabbing your thighs to open you up. She's so hard she can barely think straight, her cock pressing against the fabric of her boxers almost painfully. "Now be a good girl and keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut."

When she finally inserts herself into you, it's like you're seeing stars. A quiet whimper manages to make it past your lips, which Natasha silences by pressing her lips to yours. A messy, uncoordinated kiss, teeth clashing and lips bruising. You feel her bite down on your bottom lip, soothing the spot with her tongue as she starts rolling her hips into yours.

Pained sounds escape you as she fills you up to the brim, stretching you out and making you feel like you're about to rip apart at the seams. She nudges deeper, and deeper, her hand moving to rest flat on your stomach and press down on the little bulge there. You're all but a mewling, whimpering mess, trying your best to stay silent but finding yourself unable to do so.

"So full." Natasha takes your hand and guides it to your lower abdomen, pressing it down and making you feel the outline of herself. The evidence of her inside of you, so tangible, so real. She's nestled so deep inside of you that you aren't sure where you end and where she begins anymore. Pain, pleasure, need; all coursing through your body, making a wave of tremors run through you. "Stuffed to the brim. Fucking slut."

"Please", you somehow manage to whimper, your eyes squeezed shut. Natasha scoffs, thrusting into you in a way that makes the desk shake underneath you. Your eyes snap open, the sensation somewhere between torture and pleasure.

"Eyes open", she commands, chest heaving and eyes darkened. The blood is smeared across her neck and chest, sending another spark of heat to your core. "Close them again and we're stopping this."

You bite back a moan, your hands grasping at her blazer to find some sort of anchor. She thrusts into you again, fingers gripping your hips and probably bruising the soft skin there. Trails of fire shoot through your veins, causing the coil of white heat in you to tighten. The look on your face — dazed, aching, so needy — makes Natasha let out a quiet curse. She dips her face into the crook of your neck, covering your skin in open-mouthed kisses.

Drilling her length into you, her hand reaching for your throat. Her fingers wrap around it, at first loose. But you let out a moan, one that borders on a whine, and she suddenly applies pressure. You choke out a gasp, eyes widening as you can't breathe in anymore. The lack of oxygen causes you to feel lightheaded, elevating every single sensation that you're experiencing.

Natasha smirks against your skin, loosening her grip. You gasp for breath, happy hormones flooding you and leaving a tingly feeling of exhilaration all over.

You get a weird kick out of this entire situation — someone who's caused so much damage and suffering, hovering above you and making you feel like this. Hands that slash throats open, that fire bullets at people without thinking twice, are now roaming your body like you're a piece of art that needs to be both worshipped and destroyed.

"I told you to stay quiet", she mutters, trailing kisses over the spots where her fingers were. "Such a shame you decided not to listen."

You suppress another noise that's threatening to escape you, instead opting for digging your fingertips into her back. Natasha curses again, feeling your nails even through the fabric of her clothes. She slips one of the straps of your dress down your shoulder, exposing more of you to her eyes. Her lips attach to the skin just above the neckline of your dress, sucking a hickey into it.

Her lips travel lower, all while she keeps moving in and out of you repeatedly. Quick, heavy breathing, the legs of the desk scraping over the hardwood floor. Her mouth wraps around your hardened nipple, biting down on it. Your head falls back onto the surface of the desk and lolls to the side, your eyes meeting the gun Natasha discarded just moments ago. Blood is covering a family portrait in speckles, some of it having run down in thin streaks.

"Fuck", Natasha rasps, snapping you out of your dazed state. You wrap your thighs around her hips, tugging her closer and feeling her push against your deepest spots. You feel an ache in your core, pushing for its release, and you finally let another moan slip. But Natasha is too focused on being buried inside you, her cock swallowed whole by your dripping wet cunt, to even register the soft noise. "I'll come inside of you", she mumbles against your breast, lapping at it. "I'll get you nice and pregnant. You'll carry my babies."

You moan, trying to run your hands into her hair but failing due to her braid. "I love you", you whimper out, feeling yourself crumble. You're slowly falling apart, seconds away from that sweet release, and Natasha can tell immediately. She palms at your sides, her eyes looking up at you so she can watch.

"So trusting, so naive", she basically purrs through a mouthful of tit. "Letting yourself be knocked up by a killer. And I thought I was the messed up one."

"I'm close", you moan out, your hands hugging her face closer to your chest. "Please, I-"

"Doing so good, baby", she says breathily, releasing your breast and trailing kisses along the side of it. "So good."

Her hands move down to your thighs again, forcing them apart and nudging deeper. The second her tip pokes against your lower belly again, a wave of relief washes over you.

The orgasm crashes down on you, making you gasp out incoherent sounds. Your entire body is shaking, flushed with heat, and Natasha can feel you clench around her cock rhythmically. She buries her face against the side of your breast, muffled sounds escaping her as she comes inside of you. Thick, white fluid dribbles down your thighs, pooling on the desk underneath you.

Natasha keeps going until your vision goes black, her body rolling into yours and driving you to the point of overstimulation. You come a second time, only seconds later, and then slump onto the surface of the desk. You feel like you're one raw, exposed nerve, the aftershocks making your body buzz and your brain unable to function properly.

"Look at you", she mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips as she reaches for her gun again. "Now I've made two messes."

[monstersholygrail]

Hello there, can I request a dub-con ghost (like an entity) smut? 🥹

(It's absolutely okay if you can't or don't want to 🫶🏽)

This ended up being dub-con for them both and I think that’s hilarious.

When you bought this genie lamp off of that shady vendor, you were sure there had to be something inside of it. He was extremely adamant about you not touching it until after purchase. You were always curious before but now it was downright suspicious. There had to be an actual genie inside.

The minute you got home you were practically tears apart the protective wrapper around the lamp. Inhaling shakily with anticipation you begin to rub at the lamp, brows furrowing when nothing happens. So you keep going, create a tight friction between your hands and the lamp. As the metal grows hotter you figure it’s just your furious rubbing. But moments later when steam shoots out from the spout, you cry out loudly, dropping the lamp and stumbling back onto the ground.

For a second you wait, expecting a genie to appear. But when a translucent Spector removes itself from the belly of the lamp instead of its tip, your brows furrow. The ghost groans loudly, a shiver running through its… body. He rolls his neck and although it makes no sound you see his form grow looser.

A chill spreads through the air, or at least that’s what you tell yourself as the moment your eyes meet his heated ones, a full-body shiver runs through you. His eyes ignite with lust as he looks over your body all splayed out on the ground and ready for him.

“Thanks for helping me rub one out. Let me give you something in return.”

Before you can scramble away in fear or say a word the ghost is on you and your clothes are flying off of you as if whisked away by the wind. You cry out as you can feel the sensation of his touch, his fingers sinking deep inside your wet fat cunt. You have no idea when or how you got so soaked but it makes the ghost grin wickedly, looking beyond satisfied.

“You get turned on from rubbing a lamp, sweetheart? Or was it that you were really jerking my cock that’s got you all drenched for me?” He asks, condescension dripping from his tone as your slick makes a mess of his fingers. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, forcing you to acknowledge who’s going this to you.

You wanna scream, you wanna refuse his words and make him stop. This isn’t what you were expecting out of this lamp. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good. The sensation of his thick fingers fucking into with abandon, curling inside you at just the right spot, and making you see stars.

A part of you knows you should stop this. Stop him. But it’s almost like you can’t as your body sags all the way onto the floor. You feel yourself getting lost in the pleasure, the pressure in your belly growing the more he pumps his way inside you, far deeper than any human fingers could ever reach.

Your back arches off the ground unnaturally, body warping as if possessed when your orgasm crashes into you. A fierce shriek forcefully rips its way out of your throat as the pleasure courses through you like a tidal wave, breaking eye-contact as you throw your head back. The sensation continues to build, growing so overwhelming that for a moment your vision flashes white and you reach a plane you’ve never gone to before.

When your climax slowly begins to ebb, you can feel your release pooling beneath you and you know you’ve just cum harder than you ever have in your life. The ghost’s dark chuckles have your attention snapping back to him and your eyes widen to see him sucking your essence off his fingers.

“That was fun, kitten. Jerk me off again if you ever wanna go another round,” he says, so casually and nonchalantly you can’t help but gape at him.

Then without waiting for a response you watch as he moves back into the lamp. The silence that follows stretches on painfully. Your limp body still quivering with aftershocks and your labored breath the only sound in the room.

When you feel like you can finally stand on your own trembling legs, you slowly make your way over to the lamp. Hesitantly picking it up. Not sure what might trigger him to come out again. You think about returning it or maybe throwing it away so he can be trapped in the lamp forever.

But the more you think about what to do with it, the more your pussy starts to tingle again. Your body remembering what just happened much more pleasantly than your brain.

Perhaps you need to keep it for a little while longer. Just to figure out what to do with him, of course. Who knows, he may still have some use…

[freyaphoria]

"Why are you wearing my dress?" You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing your boyfriend as he admired himself in the mirror, adjusting 'your dress' on his slender frame. Seonghwa had always been this way; his fascination with your dresses and cute skirts was undeniable. He would often watch you intently as you applied your makeup, occasionally piping up with an endearing, "Will you do my makeup too?" These moments were utterly charming, reminiscent of a little girl watching her mother with wide-eyed wonder, eager to emulate her every move. Far from finding it irritating or tiresome, you cherished these interactions. In fact, you took great pleasure in helping him explore this side of himself, always ready to assist with his makeup or outfit choices. "Why? Doesn't it look good?" Seonghwa's voice carried a hint of anxiety as his eyes darted between you and his reflection. The brown material of the dress hugged his body in a way that seemed almost magical, accentuating his figure far more flatteringly than it ever had on you. It was as if the dress had been crafted specifically for him, every seam and fold perfectly placed. Unable to resist, you stepped towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. The warmth of his body against yours sent a subtle shiver down your spine as you whispered, "No, my star, you look like the brightest star in the sky like this.” Your hands began a gentle exploration, tracing the contours of his slim waist, marveling at how the fabric draped so elegantly over his form. Seonghwa's chest rose with a deep breath as he grasped your arms, gently maneuvering you to stand before him. His eyes, usually so confident, now held a glimmer of uncertainty. "I don't know, do you think this is too much?" The hesitation in his voice was palpable, a reminder that despite his love for wearing dresses, there was still a fragile vulnerability beneath the surface. He craved your reassurance, your validation. With a playful smirk, you replied, "Yes, it's too much, everyone who sees you will be drooling. They might forget you're mine." Your warm palm found its way to his smooth cheek, and you could feel the tension melting away from his body, his shoulders visibly relaxing under your touch. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he murmured, "Don't worry, I'm already yours, always and completely." Your hands glided from his cheeks to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his meticulously styled hair. With the gentlest of tugs, you drew his face closer to yours, your breath mingling as you whispered, "Then we should mark this perfect vision as mine, don't you think?" Your lips met his in a tender kiss, then trailed down to the exposed skin of his chest. The imprint of your lipstick blossomed on his skin like a vibrant flower, a beautiful testament to your connection. Pulling back to admire your handiwork, you couldn't help but smile. "There," you said, your voice filled with affection and a hint of possessiveness, "now you're even more breathtaking, my star." Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him in the dress, your lipstick mark a stark contrast against his skin. Then, with a quick glance at your own reflection to ensure you were equally presentable, you turned towards the door. "Come on, we'd better get going. We wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting, especially when you look this stunning."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

(I wrote this in 3 minutes, sorry if there are any mistakes)

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[thevoidstaredback]

Saturday's at Wayne Manor are family days. The whole weekend is reserved for the family to come and go as they please, but the biggest events are the Game Days on Saturday from 11:00 to 16:00 and Sunday Dinner at 18:00.

Every Saturday is a Game Day, but the third Saturday of each month is Competition Day. The kids all choose their favorite games, and everyone competes against each other. It's very rarely missed by anyone, but there have been times when someone has had to tap out for one reason or another. Alfred keeps track of who's missed how many days. Barbra keeps the tally of who's won what and how many times. At the end of the year, on December 31st, the scores are announced.

Sunday Dinners are sacred. No one ever misses a Sunday Dinner. The last person who did Jason is still getting subtle jabs and looks from everyone and that was a year ago and he had a very good reason, thank you very much! Everyone is always present for Sunday Dinner because everyone still has a room and the option to stay the night between the two days. Most usually take up the offer, but there have been extenuating circumstances that have pulled someone from the Manor.

No matter any of that because everyone is here and everyone is staying the night. That means everyone is patrolling Gotham tonight. Almost everyone. Batwoman has offered to take over Bludhaven for the night, so that's where she's gone.

Bruce plans to present his idea of messing with his coworkers when everyone gets back to the cave after patrol. All his kids know who they all are, having been trained by him, so there's no risk or accidental reveals on his part. In actuality, the kids thought of it like a game. They even had a folder for it on the Bat Computer and everything!

Yes, that night, after everyone returned to the Bat Cave, he would gather his Chaos Gremlins and invite them to mess with the Justice League with him. He'd also try and get Alfred in on it. Family bonding, and all that.

Though, making his kids sweat was its own form of amusement for him. It was 3:00 when everyone finally returned. They all ran their own routes, watched over by Oracle, and their own times, but everyone was always done no later than 3:00. It was a rule that the Gotham Rouges had yet to pick up on because Batman went back out until dawn more often than not.

Anyway, Bruce has been the first to get back and had put on an act of being upset. He usually kept his Batman persona with his suit, so he was rarely ever this stoic while he was Bruce Wayne. He hid his smirk as he sat at the head of the meeting table in the Cave, waiting for his children to change and sit with him. Duke normally was asleep by now, but he'd asked the boy to be there, letting him in on the harmless prank while they waited for his siblings and Stephanie to arrive.

Once everyone was seated, he waited a total of thirty seconds, meeting eyes with every one of his children, before he spoke. "I'm very disappointed."

Dick's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He'd known Bruce the longest - aside from Alfred - and had likely picked up on something the second he saw Bruce and Duke at the table. "At who?"

"The Justice League," It was amusing to watch the tension melt off of all of them when he shook his head, "We all know who all of them are, as well as everyone who trained under them, but they don't know who we are."

"Except Wonder Woman," Jason pointed out, "She figured me out when I came back."

Fair, Bruce supposed. Jason was always Diana's favorite. "I think they need some help," he said, "A push in the right direction, so to speak."

Stephanie had a smile on her face that promised mischief. "We're not telling them, right? 'Cause that'd be no fun."

"Course not!" Duke yawned, "B said we'd give them a hint."

"What did you have in mind, father?" Damian asked, stoic as always, but matching the gleam in Cass's eyes.

"We invite them to the Bat Cave," he said, "Show them around a bit. The only exits we tell them about, though, should be the Lane," How the ground vehicles get in and out. "-the Zeta Tubes," Obviously. "-and the elevator. But, we don't tell them what's upstairs."

Alfred seemed very amused from where he had taken his seat at the other end of the table.

"From there," Bruce continued, "We invite their civilian identities to the next Gala. Meet them. Hint about the Cave without actually saying anything. If I know Clark as well as I know I do, then he'll, at the very least, piece together that the Bat Cave is under Wayne Manor."

"And if we play it right?" Dick's grin was manic, "They won't connect who we are."

"Won't that be suspicious, though?" Tim spoke up for the first time, "They may not have put things together yet, but they aren't stupid. They're heroes. If we give them the pieces, they're gonna piece them together."

Damian was the one to answer him. "Batman and Bruce Wayne hate one another, though there is a grudging acknowledgement and respect."

"Give them the right pieces, with a few from the wrong puzzle, in the wrong order, we could totally have them fooled!" Jason explained.

The group shared looks between each other. Nothing needed to be said because the looks and movements said everything.

Alfred smiled and shook his head fondly. "You may plan this in the morning. For now, go to bed and get some sleep."

Part 1 Part 3

[aangelinakii]

HOW IT FELT.

— not tired enough to ignore what just happened...

summary : whilst studying with your friend damian, he does something you'd never expect. the biggest shock you find is that you don't really mind it.

requested !

with exams on the rise, no study opportunities could go off missed, so here you were, almost every single evening; most of the public libraries in gotham were open twenty-four hours, and this one a couple blocks from the academy was your favourite.

stand-out workers, the manager of whom had even offered you some work experience placement if you wanted any; the selection was well thought-out and each genre held a generous amount of literature for any person who favoured it. and it was located in a nice area, so, despite the fact you can never get too comfortable in gotham, you could be most assured that this building would often (if not always) be safe.

sometimes you felt like a two-timer, or a three- or four-timer at this point, with the amount of people you brought here.

you'd tell your friends, "i know a spot," and even though it's just around the corner from gotham academy, everybody seems so surprised that it's here, wedged between a law firm and a seven-eleven.

tonight, however, late into the dregs of night, you sat with one damian wayne; a character who's struggled to warm to you when he first joined after missing the first year, but now you'd call one of your best friends, and you hoped he shared that sentiment.

despite your frequent study sessions at this very table, tucked at the very back of the library, you'd never stayed up this late — well past three by now — but it seemed damian was nocturnal, like a bat, or something.

the grip on your pen was beginning to loosen considerably, and your lids were falling slowly over your tired eyes, when an elbow nudged your side and you jumped back up in your chair.

"i hope you're not falling asleep on me," damian teased, in his very serious-sounding way that you'd come to recognise.

you gave an accidental grunt, bringing your free hand to rub at your eyes. "no, don't—" yawn... "—don't worry about me."

even as you slouched back in your chair, hand moving down to tug at your tie, loosening it from the cage of your collar, you could just about feel damian's eyes on you, much wider, much more awake.

"why don't we wrap up for tonight? do your parents know you're out so late?" he tugged his uniform blazer sleeve back a bit, revealing a watch, and huffed some air past his lips. how he wasn't just as exhausted as you, you had no idea.

but you were stubborn, and damian had come to realise this. with a slow shake of your head, you attempted to lean forward in your chair, limbs and joints aching from sitting for so long. "no... need to finish this paper on... on the spanish armada..."

despite your words, your pen didn't seem to want to finish scrawling its sentence, the penmanship of which had plummeted in quality over the course of the night, and your eyelids seemed dead-set on falling over your vision — which would make writing quite difficult, anyway.

a sigh came from beside you and damian shifted in his chair, though you were barely conscious enough to register.

damian got to his feet, hands brushing over the various books strewn along your table and closing their faces. "i think we should go," he said, picking up a few of his — something or other on philosophy. "i'm going to put these back, and yours, if that's okay?"

somewhere in the back of your mind you knew he was asking something, and you gave a vague grunt, feeling your chin begin to topple down your sternum.

gathering up his philosophy books, damian chuckled quietly to himself, and disappeared down the aisles to return them to their respective shelves.

after that, you opened your eyes slightly, gaining consciousness to find yourself resting against the table top, skin pressing into the inky notes you'd scrawled, sure to temporarily tattoo your cheek. one of your fingers flexed, and you found your pen had fallen from your grip.

the soft sound of damian slipping back into his chair whispered in your ears, its wooden feet sliding against the slightly diminished rug. with that, the sound of papers fluttering closed by your head told you damian was doing his second round of putting back books, and your lids fell over your eyes once again.

perhaps you had fallen back into soft slumber, but all noise stopped; no brushing of books against wood, the clatter of pens being shoved back into bags. even the presence of damian wayne by your side had simmered, as if he'd disappeared.

or was just being very, very still.

a sensation brushed against your browbone, soft fingertips like a careful breeze, taking away the light weight of hair falling over your nosebridge. the wind-like fingers continued to trail along with your hair until they found the shell of your ear, carefully tucking the strays out of your face.

content, hardly realising what was happening, you gave a sigh, corner of your mouth twitching with what may have been a smile.

the fingers froze.

your eyes blinked slowly open.

damian wayne, someone you'd grown casually fond of — but also grown to realise would never cross the physical boundary, unless to shake someone's hand — was sitting back in his place, hand frozen in air, inches from your face, his own expression pulled into one of shock-horror.

"what's wrong?" you managed to mutter, just about.

but damian didn't respond, mouth only bobbing open and closed like a goldfish.

with a yawn and a stretch, you pushed yourself back in your seat, cracking out a few bones and relieving some tension. a hand came up to brush at the tucked-away hair behind your ear, and damian had placed his hands flat on the table, watching you with what seemed like unease.

after stretching out your tired limbs a little, your eyes looked around at the surrounding bookshelves, less blurry than before your power nap. your forehead creased as you focused in on your friend beside you.

"damian?"

"i– i apologise," he muttered, eyes wide, fixed on a certain point on the table, your history books still spread over on your side. "i shouldn't have done that."

"done what?" you urged quietly, brushing your fingers over the tucked hair again.

damian just about spared you a glance. "i shouldn't have done that." his words were quick and snappy, and as soon as he'd finished talking he was getting to his feet again and gathering your closed spanish history books.

just as he was about to walk off, you gained your senses, your awareness of his regret. "hey— no, it's okay," you interjected, his frame halting, the books in his grip quivering.

tired as your legs were, you pushed yourself to your feet, the shell of your ear tingling with warmth. "i'll come put them away with you," you insisted, hurriedly trying to tidy you things away, stuffing them into your bookbag as well as they could fit. "and then we can leave together?"

the ghost of a smile whisped along damian's lips, the tremble in his stature slowing. as your bag snapped shut, he gave a small nod.

maybe you didn't have to talk about the softness of his actions when he thought you were asleep, but the fizzing tension between you surely wouldn't let either of you forget it.

[daenysx]

omg ! for the sad girl sleepover i have a blurb!!! how ab james w a pregnant!reader whos just super emotional, crying at everything , being mad at him then crying bc she feels bad :( ik hed be so patient !!!

"what-" james panics at the sight of you crying. "why- what happened?" he asks.

you hold your phone with almost trembling fingers. "look at this video, jamie." sniffling. "she's washing a kitten, just look at its eyes. it looks so small, so sweet."

james lets out the breath he doesn't know how long he's been holding. your one hand stays on your swollen belly casually and you watch the kitten video again with sad eyes. you're actually crying for a cat.

"angel." he really should stop panicking. "i thought something bad happened to you."

your teary eyes get huge as you look up to him. "not to me. to this kitten. she says she found it on the street and it probably lost its mother. it's so sad, jamie."

james smiles uncontrollably. do you have any idea how sweet you look in his eyes right now? he sits next to you, his one hand on your belly as the other one dries up your cheeks. "maybe you should stop watching these videos. they make you upset."

"i feel so swollen today." you say, huffing. you put your phone aside. "i was trying to distract myself, and that kitten was-"

"sweetheart." he stops you with a kiss on the back of your hand. "the kitten is in good hands right now. please stop crying over it."

"what, you think i'm crying on purpose?" you pout. "i'm crying because our baby makes my hormones go crazy, i don't know if you notice but it's kinda your fault."

"it's my fault that we're having a baby?" he asks, smirking.

"i mean-" you start, licking your lips. "you've done your part of it, haven't you?"

james looks at you with a fond expression. "i'm sorry." he says, rubbing your cheek. "i'm sorry for making your hormones go crazy and that you're feeling so swollen today, baby. can i do something to help you?"

he's gonna be a perfect dad. you imagine him holding your little girl in his huge hands, her little face pressed against his broad chest. she'll be such a daddy's girl, no doubt. oh, no. your eyes well with tears again.

"no, what is it?" james asks. "angel."

"you're gonna be an amazing dad." you say, your fingers catching the tears from falling down. "i'm sorry for saying it's your fault."

james gives you a nice laugh. he pulls you in his arms to give you a hug as good as he can with your belly on the way. "you're carrying our baby. i'll always be here for you, no matter what you say."

"i'm sorry." you say to his shoulder. "i promise i won't watch any more kitten videos."

"okay." he smiles. "that's nice. i'm gonna get you something to eat, why don't you pick a movie for us?"

"i'm gonna find something funny."

"good, baby." he stands up, kisses your belly once, and leaves for the kitchen.

sad girl sleepover ♡