꒰੭ ﾟ I'm actually monkey D. luffy! This is js a disguise to hide from the marines, so shhhh ﾟ𖦹˙—
IRL's - @sacratiti // @marcidoestuff //@leyley124 //@sleepyeepy77
(My real self is @official-luffy55)
This piece of art literally does it for me EVERY SINGLE TIME. His hair, eyes, eye bags, hands, chest, chest, CHEST, HAIR AND HIS FINGERS OMFG HIS FINGERS.
your incredibly smart boyfriends average test scores were 95% to 100% percent. why were you surprised when he started practically quizzing you on your own pussy?
he brings a finger up to the fleshy skin of your outer lips, skin pulsing at the touch.
"now, these are your outer lips. scientifically called labia majora pudendi. they act as protective barriers, comparable to the male scrotum." he says, removing his finger from the area.
his uni work was all completed but he was still quizzing you or himself in any way possible. it's not even ruining the moment anymore, it's making it better.
he pulls the left outer lip skin back, placing his finger on the wet, soft skin on the inner.
"now, baby, do you know what this is? the part of this pretty pussy i'm touching now?"
you stare at him like he just hung the world up himself, shaking your head.
"no? that's fine. these are your inner lips. a delicate, sensitive skin folds located between the part i just told you about, your outer lips. these vary widely in size, shape and color among different women." he collects a bit of the spread wetness on his fingers, moving them up to his mouth.
you hear a very faint groan over your heavy breathing, tongue lapping up the evidence of your arousal off his own fingers.
he points to the bundle of nerves above your urethra, tapping a finger on it.
"this is your clitoris. it's extremely sensitive. in fact— if i just simply did this.."
he moves two fingers towards the organ, circling it in deep, slow strokes.
you groan and tilt your head backwards, hands latching on to the closest surface you could find.
"you can feel that, can't you? that's why i told you it's sensitive." he smirks, moving his fingers faster.
"toru—" your voice came out strained, almost a warning. "f—fuck. feels ssooo good!"
his fingers are coated with this sticky, gushy mess, loud squelching noises filling the organized room.
"i can tell, sweetheart. you can hear it too— how this pretty pussy sounds with a few languid touches." he says softly, tongue running over braces.
your eyes go watery and suddenly you feel tears run down your cheeks. you can't even think because of the intense pleasure. your boyfriend told you this was about an exam that made up most of his grade.
"cum for me, pretty. right on my hands. i've got you." he says, wiping tears off of your wet cheeks.
and you finally let go.
thick, white cum drips down his fingers as you finally reach your climax, the liquid travelling down to his digimon sheets.
he lays you down, cleaning up your clit and his fingers.
Luffy got a beetle named after him thats so super dope. Extremely coolio. He'd be so excited the crew would never hear the end of it. I love his beetlely insect knowledge.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bf!jason todd x fem!reader + platonic!damian x fem!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and jason go with damian to the beach
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF!!, 1.2k words, reader is a freak AND freaky for jason, but its okay bc jason is freaky for reader too #they’rebothfreaks, uhhh i think thats it?, boobs, intimacy, damian is a kid and their son, lets ignore the messy writing im super duper tired sorry for the grammar + spelling mistakes
The sun is blazing hot above the three of you, and despite that— and the added weight of three heavy bags and a beach umbrella— Jason doesn’t break a sweat.
On his left arm; a bright pink bag packed with tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches and cold cans with perspiration clinging to the metal. Next to the pink, is a blue one with the towels, and the last is your white tote-bag (also on his left arm), where you carry all of your stuff. On his right arm, he carries the umbrella.
You had tried to grab something, but Jason just took it back without a struggle while you pulled and tugged. He just raised his brow like are you really trying?
You obviously let him win.
Damian is walking further ahead, inspecting the beach with sharp eyes. He’s dressed in a bright green swimsuit you bought him and a white shirt. Jason is practically the same, except his swimsuit is a boring dark red and his shirt is sleeveless.
The wooden pier feels hot under you, despite wearing flip flops. And pesky grains of sand are stuck to the soles of your feet and slowly rising up your ankles. But you don’t mind, it all fades away the second the scent of sea salt hits your nostrils.
You eye Jason’s bulging biceps and moisten your lips. He flexes them once, rearranging the weight of the food bag. You’re positive you’re going to faint— and not because of the heat.
You quickly set up camp near the shore, and you’re grateful that it’s practically empty. While Jason has gotten more comfortable about his scars around you (and Damian), he’s not exactly ready to parade them around.
Damian crosses his arms and stares at the beach umbrella, a blue-and-white striped thing you bought for only ten bucks.
“You set it up quite poorly, Todd.”
He huffs. “Then why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I would.” He sniffs. “But I’m going into the water.”
You bend over and begin rummaging through the white bag while the other two bicker. You straighten up with a smile.
Both of their faces fall when they see what you have in your hands.
“Please no,” Damian says.
Jason pats his back. “You can’t fight her, kid.”
“But surely—”
Jason slowly shakes his head.
Damian sighs and looks down at the sand. “Fine. But if it gets into my eyes I’m reporting you to Father.”
You grin and click the bottle open. The younger boy looks positively terrified.
It takes two eternally long minutes, according to Damian, to soap him up with white sunscreen. His taut back, his arms, white streaks on the smooth apples of his cheeks, and more gentle touches wherever scars are. He grumbles something and rushes off toward the water.
You and Jason watch him dive in headfirst. Slowly, you turn to him. “You’re not escaping, mister.”
You get rid of your shirt and shorts, standing only in your bikini.
Jason’s jaw drops slightly, but he catches himself almost instantly.
“Well,” he says after a beat, “that hardly seems fair.”
You raise an eyebrow. “To who?”
“To me, obviously.”
He turns around and you squirt a fat dollop of cream onto your palm, applying it directly to the middle of his back. Then you start rubbing it in with slow, soothing motions as your fingers coat the scars and place a kiss under his ear— where the cream hasn’t reached yet.
He goes still for a moment. You pretend not to notice.
Jason turns around again, and you have to go slightly onto your tiptoes to reach his shoulders and arms. You take your sweet time with his biceps, rubbing and admiring them.
Jason snorts. “I’m going to start charging you for staring.”
You roll your eyes. “You're enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little.”
His laughter dims a little when your attention drifts lower, lingering over old scars and hard muscle alike. The quiet is comfortable, with only the soft sand of lapping waves crashing against the shore and the occasional squawk of a seagull.
But then comes his face, and his smile slips away when you tell him to crouch down.
You’re far more careful here, using only the pads of your fingers to spread the sunscreen without risking getting any in his eyes, nose, or mouth. You’re so focused that you don’t notice where his eyes have strayed.
To be completely fair, Jason really tried not to look. He stared at the thin strings of your bikini, but his gaze followed the red downward...
And yeah. Oh.
“That’s it!” You smile proudly.
Jason realizes he’s somehow fallen onto his knees. The burning sand scratches at them, and his skin feels slightly sticky and warm with sunscreen. He’s only half-aware.
“Jason?” You gently lift his chin. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? The sun is right behind your head, a halo of gold crowning you. You’re looking at him with those eyes and wearing that bikini. And he knows it’s not a coincidence that it’s the same shade of red as his suit and swim trunks.
“Oh,” he says. His wide green eyes staring up at you, loose strands of hair falling on his forehead.
Your smile widens. “Oh?”
“You planned this.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”
“Liar.”
You sink to your knees right in front of him, and link your hands behind his neck. “I knew you’d love this bikini.”
Jason shakes his head once and kisses you anyway. It’s slow and hungry, like eating a juicy peach and trying to get all of the flavour right against your taste buds.
Your lips are sun-chapped but taste like those artificial strawberries— probably from the ice cream you and Damian got at the pier earlier. Sweet, his sweet girl.
He groans and his hands fall to your waist. Big, rough hands that rub against your soft skin, brushing away the scratching sand. You lean further into him.
“This is disgusting.”
It’s practically impressive how quickly you and Jason separate.
Still panting on your knees, coated in hot sand and streaks of Jason’s sunscreen smeared across your chest and thighs.
Damian is drenched, looking like a very angry cat. “Are you two finished being embarrassing?”
Jason smirks. “No promises.”
Damian looks personally offended. “Unbelievable.”
You smile apologetically. “Sorry?”
He huffs. “I may forgive you if you come into the water with me.”
You get up, briefly clutching Jason’s shoulder so you don’t lose your balance. He smirks again.
“You stay.”
Jason snaps his eyes toward Damian.
“Stay here and take care of the fort.”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “That's your job, Robin.”
“I'm delegating.”
“Pretty sure that's not how that works.”
“Father delegates constantly.”
Jason opens his mouth, pauses, then sighs. “Fair point.”
You smile Jason goodbye and grab Damian by the hand, running so the soles of your feet don’t burn as you jump into the crystalline water.
That’s when Jason sees it. And his brain, traitor that it is, briefly stops functioning.
Red Hood’s symbol is printed on the back of your bikini bottoms in a brighter shade of red.
Jason closes his eyes. “You're unbelievable.” And insane, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He watches you splash Damian, while Damian loudly insists he isn't having fun. The lie becomes significantly less convincing, when Damian starts splashing back.
Your hand rises above the water, gesturing for Jason to join you.
His smile widens and rushes in.
You end up on Jason’s shoulders, chasing Damian. Slowly, of course— the water is dense, but Jason is strong and Damian allows himself to be chased around.
It becomes Jason's favorite beach day. (Damian's too, though neither of them will ever admit it).
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: roy calls you at 2 am, apparently jason is drunk and needs you
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 1.1k words, none, fluff, CRACK, sort of part 2 for this, roy is there too, 1 sexual comment, not edited just proof-read 🚬
<𝟑: art creds to @quezartt
You’re currently wearing one of Jason’s Gotham U hoodies (you suspect it’s not actually Jason’s) that reaches down to your legs, along with your winter boots. Aside from that, you’re wearing your pyjamas and nothing else.
You’re absolutely freezing your ass off, and by the time you barge into the club Roy sent you the address to, you swear you’re on the verge of hypothermia.
You would’ve told him to fuck off because it’s literally two a.m. But he called with Jason’s phone, and told you to come right now.
You need to come. It’s Jason.
Your heart absolutely stopped for a second. What? You can’t even hear your own voice.
He laughs. Nothing serious. He’s just worried you’re hungry.
Huh? Your voice is still raspy from sleep.
Just come.
So now you’re here, climbing the stairs to the VIP lounge. And it’s just your luck that someone is guarding the door.
He scans you up and down, then shuffles a bit closer to block the entrance.
"Hi, um, my friends are inside waiting for me."
He raises a brow. "Sure.”
"Yeah," you insist. "Roy and Jason—"
His face falls. "You’re Jason’s girl?"
"Sorry?" You blink twice. "What do you mean—"
But you’re interrupted for a second time. You frown and check your phone again, to see if there are any missed calls. There’s not.
The man turns around and taps his earpiece. A moment later, he spins back to you, smiling brightly. "You can absolutely come in." He opens the door for you. "Jason’s girl."
You mumble a thanks, still very weirded out by the whole experience.
The second you step inside, all eyes snap to you. Granted, there are only five other people besides Roy and Jason, but it’s still very weird for everyone to be tracking your movements and whispering to each other.
You ignore the stares and make your way to the boys’ table in the corner of the room. Just where Jay would’ve chosen it— away from any potential threats.
"Roy! Jason!" you call.
Jason is rambling to Roy, waving his hands around and smiling brightly. But the second he hears you, his whole body freezes. Even his hands stop mid-gesture. His pretty green eyes immediately start scanning the room until they land on you.
And then he waddles. He waddles toward you. His movements are clumsy as he tries to grab you, nearly walking straight into a decorative plant.
"Baby!"
You catch him just as he’s about to collapse on top of you. Struggling to support his weight, you try to steady him.
He lets you. Then he picks you up.
He kisses you on the nose, and all you can do is blink in confusion before he throws you over his shoulder.
"Jason?" you whisper-yell. "Put me down right now."
"Nuh-uh." He sounds smug. "Can’t."
The world flips again as he plops you down beside him on the velvet couch. Now you’re sandwiched between the two of them.
You look at Roy, raising a brow. "What did you even give him?"
He smirks, raising his hands innocently. "He said he could handle it."
Jason is playing with your hair. He tugs on a strand before curling it around his index finger.
"Why is everyone looking at us?"
Roy laughs, bright and loud. "Jason couldn’t stop telling everyone about you. The cocktail guy, the—"
"Bouncer?"
He snaps his fingers. "Yeah." Roy grins. "You know, I thought he'd eventually run out of facts."
You blink. "Facts?"
"Oh, yeah." He starts counting on his fingers. "You brush your teeth for ten minutes— you’re a psycho for that, by the way. You like your toast overly done. You cry at movies, even if they’re not sad. He’s dissected the meaning of all of your favourite songs...”
You’re too dumbfounded to properly answer. Roy continues.
"You apparently have the prettiest smile in the tri-state area."
Jason nods solemnly. "It's true."
Roy whistles. "He's got it bad."
Jason is still playing with your hair. "You’re so pretty."
You turn to him with a smile, brushing his cheek softly. He immediately nuzzles into your touch. "Not as much as you."
He shakes his head. "No, no. You’re ridiculously pretty. Sometimes"— he drops his voice, as if you’re sharing some great secret—"when you smile, I forget how to think. Or when you do anything, really."
He wraps an arm around your waist until there isn’t even an inch of space between you. You can feel every line of his body, the hard muscle beneath his clothes. "My pretty, pretty girl."
You place a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, Jay."
"And you also make me really hard."
Roy’s laughter is impossible to ignore. He slams a hand on the table, wheezing as he mumbles something between fits of laughter. You see him fumble for his phone out of the corner of your eye.
"Yesterday, for example, when you—"
"Jason," you say sternly.
His face falls. "Don’t be mad at me." He’s frowning now, his big green eyes glossy and wide.
You cup his face. "I’m not angry, baby."
"Oh, okay." He nods slowly. "I’m sorry I told Roy you snore."
"I do not—"
Roy nudges your shoulder. "According to Jason, you do."
Jason nods matter-of-factly. "When I can’t sleep, I listen to you breathe. So yeah. You snore."
Your heart pounds in your chest, steady and hard. You want to kiss him. Not just his lips. Everywhere.
Because who decided kisses on the lips were the most intimate? You’d kiss every scar, every freckle, every crook of his beautiful body. You want to worship him with kisses.
"And you make me soup," Jason continues, completely oblivious to the look of pure love on your face.
Roy blinks. "Okay?"
Jason sighs dramatically. "Not canned soup. Actual homemade soup she spends time and effort making."
"Congratulations.”
He rolls his eyes. "You don’t get it." Then his eyes find yours, unwavering. "But you do. You get me, and you love me."
"Of course I do, Jay.” You smile softly.
Jason smiles before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes flutter shut as you run your fingers through his hair. "You’re my definition of an angel."
The next morning, Jason wakes up with a killer hangover and his entire body wrapped around you.
Then he bumps into Roy in the kitchen. He dies of embarrassment the second Roy holds up his phone to show him something.
The video shows nothing but the club ceiling, dim lighting, and red velvet. The audio, however, is crystal clear.
What if she’s hungry?
Jason physically cringes at the sound of his own whiny, worried voice. He’s never drinking again. Roy is barely holding in his laughter, the phone slightly shaking.
She’s an adult, man.
She forgets to eat. There’s a frustrated grumble. I can’t unlock my phone. Stupid numbers. A brief shuffle. The password is her birthday. You call her.
Jason wants to crawl into the Lazaurs Pit and disappear.
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