#(And waste his painting skills on that

[shotmrmiller]

When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.

And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—

"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.

When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"

Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."

The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."

Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.

--

Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.

But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)

His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.

"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."

It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.

And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.

The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.

He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—

And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."

He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.

The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.

He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.

Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.

Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.

Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.

Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.

"Mornin' LT."

A grunt is his only reply.

Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.

"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."

He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."

Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.

"When?"

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost smut #cod mw2

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 02

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining

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It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,

"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"

What you did all day,

"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"

It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.

"I thought you were good at cooking"

"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.

He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"

"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"

"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,

He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"

"Let you what"

"Cook, I'll make dinner"

"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"

"They don't feed you at work?"

"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"

"Did your mum cook?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"

"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"

He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,

"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"

He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,

"So what are you making?"

"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"

"French toast?"

"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"

You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,

"Well, it smells great"

The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,

"You can't be serious"

"What'd I do?"

"That's like a cup of syrup"

"So?"

"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"

"What if they already have"

You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"

"You don't have to turn away you know"

You make a small huh? in response,

"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"

"I just assumed"

"I know, but you don't have to turn away"

"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”

“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”

“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.

He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.

You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,

“Sorry”

“Doesn’t hurt”

You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.

“That should do”

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.

"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"

"You trying to kick me out?"

"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"

"There isn't"

You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"

"Right"

There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.

"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.

He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.

You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,

"You scared me"

"You were having a nightmare"

"Yeah, they happen sometimes"

It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,

He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,

"Simon"

He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.

"Will you stay, it's just"

He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"

"Please"

"Of course"

You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.

You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.

You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.

"Do you have something in your pocket?"

He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,

"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.

"It's fine"

He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,

"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"

"Thank you"

You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.

You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.

You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Top left cabinet”

You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,

“Thanks”

He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yep, just making tea”

“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”

He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.

His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,

“Are you any good at fixing things?”

“Depends, what needs fixing”

“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”

“I could give them a look”

You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.

The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.

“I think you’re his new favourite”

Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.

“Strange”

“He’s not strange”

“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”

“Well get used to it”

He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.

“The shutters”

You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”

“I’ll get right on it then”

It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.

I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.

“Beer”

It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.

“Cheers, love one”

Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.

“Must be hot with the mask”

“Get used to it”

You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.

“How’s it looking”

“Great”

“So you’re almost done”

“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,

“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”

“Yeah, nearly there”

“Great, I’ll be inside”

The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.

“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”

“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”

He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,

“You alright?” You call

“Yeah, just sore”

“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”

You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.

“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”

He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,

“Sure, easier”

He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.

“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”

“Great”

“Might leave a scar”

“Adds to the collection”

You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.

“I’m fine”

“I know you are”

“It only hurts a little, when it happens”

“And someone did this to you”

“A few people”

“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,

“Nothing you need to worry about”

You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,

“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,

“Simon, would you- nevermind”

“What do you need?”

“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”

“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.

“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”

He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.

He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.

He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,

“Good morning kitty”

He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.

He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.

“Mornin”

You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,

“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.

“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”

His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”

“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”

“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”

You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.

“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.

“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,

“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”

“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”

“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”

“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”

He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost angst

[sinning-23]

Hello,

How about a LA luffy where he's dating Reader and he keeps talking about her but no one believes him until she comes and rescue them or something I know not much details but please take this to your account English isn't my first language so excuse me

OMG THIS IS PERFECT! Thank you for the request! I apologize for taking so long to write it I've been so busy and full of writers block its insane! I added a little twist with his and made th reader a gunslinger sooo yeah(for the plot) Anywa here we go! Enjoy

Warnings: None

The strawhat crew was becoming increasingly irritated with how much Luffy would speak of this mystery woman who he claimed to be his 'girlfriend'. In all honestly, neither of them thought he had the romantic capacity to even GET a girlfriend to begin with. But the way he spoke of her...it couldn't all be lies could it?

He mentioned how you'd saved him with your remarkable skills as a gunslinger and you were an amazing shot. He gushed about how it took only one bullet to kill three men who had threatened him and when it was all over you 'pepper his face with kisses'. How you were always there to save him more times than not and that you were just absolutely beautiful. The 'prettiest girl' he'd ever seen as he told it.

"If you guys are so in love why didn't she join you on this little pirate adventure." Nami quips, eyes rolling at the most recent story Luffy had explained. He only tilted his head and smiled as if the answer was just so obvious (it wasn't.)

"It wasn't her dream." He smiles, rocking back and for a bit as Zoro finished off his drink before speaking.

"This wasn't exactly our first choice either but here we are." the swordsman smirks, his arms crossed over his chest.

The smirk was soon replaced with irritation when the waiter went to speak.

"That's different. Besides, I'm sure Luffy wouldn't leave a woman like that all on her lonesome. Right?" Sanji questions, more so trying to convince himself Luffy had more sense than that. But the brunette only shakes his head.

"Nope, she said we would cross paths again one day and I let her be. It was a deal! And now I get to wait until one day I see her beautiful face again." And before anyone could protest or pry any further, Luffy stuffed his face with food.

A sigh rang out from Nami as she leaned against the seating of the booth they're in, only to quickly shoot back up with wide eyes. Since Luffy's bounty had got a hell of a whole lot bigger, there was always the occasional run-in with someone who claimed they'd be getting their money sooner rather than later.

On this particular night though, a gang of about 6 or 7 had strutted up to their booth and slammed his bounty on the cracked wood of the table, making it shake. Zoro paused, debating if these idiots were worth the fight and Luffy continued to eat without a care in the world.

"I'm getting that bounty tonight." Then, what they all assumed was the leader spoke, his hand drawing his sword. This could have gotten ugly rather quickly but the fight seemed to be over with the sound of fired shots ringing through the eatery.

It was so quick you'd almost miss it…each shot followed by another, and one by one each of the men dropped like flies, screams and gasps of frightened patrons filling up the space momentarily. From the darkened corner of the bar stood a woman in a rather large coat that almost touched the floor.

The revolver in her hand rattled before she tucked it away into one of the many pockets that adorned her body. She was a decent height, and her hair was pushed out of her face most likely to keep her line of sight from being obscured. Finally, the once look of disgust that was painted over her features was filled with joy as she stepped over the bodies of the men she'd just laid to waste.

"Luffy!" She squeals, practically vibrating as the Stawhat leaped form his seat and embraced the mystery woman.

This wasn't the usual hug though, Luffy had simply lifted the lady and twirled her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and she giggled and tangled her fingers in his hair.

"I'm sorry did we miss something?" Nami quips, looking to the rest of the crew to confirm they were just as lost.

"This is her! Remember the girl I've been talking about!?" He practically shouts, his hand secure at your waist as that iconic smile plays over his lips.

Oh okay it was finally starting to make sense. Two cinimon rolls but one can and will kill you if they so desire...well-

Nami is the first to laugh, disbelief filling her but the closer she looks the more her laughter and smirk dies down. Luffy's hand was firm at your waist, yours on his chest as you flash a content smile.

"Y/n, meet my crew!" Luffy introduces as you jut your hand out happily, meeting that of whom you soon learn is Usopp and Sanji. Nami was next and Zoro simple noddded in your direction.

"You really know how to pick em! Congratulations on this bounty by the way love." You hum, pressing kisses over Luffy's freckled cheeks.

Damn how much love and affection could you give? It was like every two seconds your lips were pressed somewhere against their Captain’s face! And he didn’t seems to mind at all! Well, not that Luffy was bothered by it but still! With one last kiss to your boyfriend’s face, you usher the crew out of the eatery, sliding the bartender some extra berrie to apologize for the ruckus.

The two of you looked so inseparable like that, hands interlinked and swinging back and forth simultaneously.

“You know what this means don’t you. Usopp teases, sticking his hand out awaiting Nami to fulfil her end of the bargain.

She swears in defeat roller her eyes before paying.

Who wouldn’t make a bet on something as outlandish as their captain having a girlfriend!?

#x reader #one piece #reader is black #one piece live action #i don't care he's hot #headcannons #one piece x reader #opla #luffy opla #opla luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #opla luffy x reader

[karinab00bs]

Playing In The Midnight

just a short drabble cuz i have no self-control.. and please understand if there’s any typos because I'm too lazy to crosscheck them

tags: smut, nonidol! reader x idol!karina, ass fucking

It was already late when he came home that night, though, judging from the light that was casting its beam from the bedroom, Karina must have been still awake. They had moved in together five years ago and one thing that he had learned was that Karina loved to do a Instagram live even when she doesn't show her face. She loves doing that often because her fans.

He was working late recently and was always happy to still have some time with Karina. Not to drag her into excessive talking so late at night, no. After so many years of being together, they had learned to be quiet and to enjoy the silence together, laying in each other's arms so they could fall asleep together.

He stepped closer to the bedroom and took a moment to enjoy the view that was offered to him. Karina was laying on his stomach, only dressed in her tight black shorts, that were flattering her ass perfectly, and a simple white t-shirt. Her eyes were fixed on the phone screen while talking to all her fans. He didn’t get a reaction from her at all and it wouldn’t have been the first time that she would blend everything else out because she was too focused on pleasing her fans.

A short glance at the screen revealed to him that the live would go on for a bit and he was perfectly aware of the fact that Karina wouldn’t just end the live to cuddle when she was so happy talking to her fans. His eyes wandered back to his girlfriend, her bare slim legs, her perfect ass that was offered to him on a silver platter. For a moment he tried to remember the last time they had sex and it was definitely too long. The longer he looked at her the more he wanted her.

With a slight smirk on his lips, he got rid of his tie and his jacket, placing them aside to make her at least aware of his presence– well at least he got a little smile from her before she focused again on the Instagram live to answer all her fans' question. He stepped over to the bed and straddled Karina’s hips unbothered.

Karina flinched for a brief moment but did nothing further, maybe because it was just a normal thing for them to do or maybe because Karina couldn’t let her guard down while doing an Instagram live. Although it gave him the perfect opportunity to try something new since Karina’s hands were so busy scrolling the comments. He leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck, while his long slim fingers slipped under Karina’s shirt, caressing the warm smooth skin underneath. God, how much he loved to touch her body. Even after all these years, he couldn’t get enough of Karina and even before they had started dating he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

Karina’s body shivered the moment his fingers were touching her skin and her voice sounded raspier when she was speaking. Especially when he slid his fingers under the waistband of her shorts he could see Karina was holding her breath but she didn’t stop - but neither did him. He pressed his hips down to rub himself on her perfect ass, could feel his cock growing inside his pants, could feel how his girlfriend confusion but also his arousal was increasing. And he didn’t waste any more time, got rid of Karina’s shorts.

“What are you doing?” Karina said under her breath, allowing herself a short moment of distraction but the words could have also been interpreted as a reaction to the live– at least for the fans who didn’t know what was going on. Karina’s lips were slightly parted, her breathing had become irregular, a shimmer of red was painting her cheeks and her ass was willingly presented to her boyfriend, while the skillful fingers of the latter were working her open.

He grinned, opened his pants and pushed them down enough to free his throbbing cock, that was aching to fuck Karina’s ass As he was finished with the preparations, he leaned forward and whisper to her.

“Fucking you deep and hard while you are busy.” He traced his tongue over her ear. “Don’t be too loud, they might hear you.”

Another soft kiss on her cheek before he placed and slid his cock smoothly into her, grabbing her hips to pull him even closer. Karina's fingers clenched hard around the phone and she opened her lips for a silent scream still unable to realize what was happening to her. Although she couldn’t deny that it was thrilling and hot and it had definitely been too long since she had felt her boyfriend hard cock inside of her– besides even after all these years together he didn’t fail to surprise her.

He didn’t waste any more time and started to fuck her, slowly at first, pulling his cock all the way out to thrust his whole length hard back inside, making Karina clench her fingers even harder around the phone while she was biting her lower lip. It was clearly amusing to watch Karina’s attempts to stay composed, holding her moans back even though all he wanted was to moan her boyfriend’s name out loud, he could see it and he was wondering how long she could keep her mouth shut.

Karina tried to focus on the screen, on the comments she sees over the phone and to push the right buttons to end the live and lock her phone but the only person that was pushing all the right buttons was her boyfriend, making it nearly impossible for her to concentrate on anything else but his perfect thick cock, that was fucking her so rough and fast. Unconsciously, she had arched her back, had spread her legs wider to give him more space to fuck her even deeper.

“Oh fuck, yes…” Karina whimpered as he hit that sweet spot inside of her hard and purposefully, making her whole body quiver and craving for even more. It was so hard to keep herself together, to stay quiet, so that her fans wouldn’t hear her getting so perfectly fucked by her boyfriend. But what did she care about all those fans when she had the real deal?

She could feel his plush soft lips on her back, kissing her neck and over her shoulders, drilling her even harder into the mattress until Karina finally let go of the phone and lifting her ass for him to thrust her from another angle.

“y/n, so good…” Karina moaned unbothered, the live and the fans forgotten, focusing only on the bubbling feeling that was increasing inside her stomach, dragging her closer and closer to the edge.

“Let them hear how much you like it to get fucked, baby.” He murmured inside her ear in a deep voice, grabbing Karina’s hips hard to pull her closer with every thrust, giving her no chance to prevent herself from moaning his name. She sounded so filthy, so naughty that some of the fans might have abandoned the live as well. He couldn’t tell as his eyes were fixed on this beautiful girl under him, shivering with every deep thrust, clenching her walls around his cock so welcoming, screaming his name out loud as he brought them both to climax, spilling his cum deep inside of her perfect heat.

#karina aespa #karina smut #aespa smut #fanfic #imagines #kpop smut #girl group smut #idol smut #yoo jimin #fiction

[hypnoneghoul]

to him, mountain is the prettiest creature that has ever been called up from the pit. a deity, truly

something so beautiful it's hard to believe it's real

especially in moments like this

sprawled out in the greenhouse nest, wrapped in soft sage sheets and bathed in sunlight

with his hair down, the loose amber strands spilling down his shoulder and chest in a way that looks as if lucifer himself had gently laid each individual silky wave in this perfect composition

with his face fully relaxed, a thing so rare swiss' heart hurts whenever he is rewarded with getting to see him like this. eyelashes kissing his pink-tinged and freckle-adorned cheeks. plush lips slightly parted and the multi ghoul could swear it is an invitation to slot his own against them

with his whole lean body laying limply, but not disorderly. long limbs arranged in a careful, yet unconscious, way. asking to be painted, to be preserved. such beauty can not be wasted

swiss would, if he only had the skill. he would never dare to try, not risk the desecration of portraying mountain as less that he really is

he is everything

he is to be worshipped and that is something swiss can do. that is something he does, and will never stop. in any way he would desire, swiss will worship him. will pray to him for the gift of it

edit: part two, swiss in mountain eyes

but for now, mountain sleeps. and swiss watches

...

#swissalps #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #hypnone writes

[nayziiz]

Dressing Room | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader (you/her/she)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

She had been stressing about the outfit from the moment she laid eyes on it in the store. It wasn't just any outfit; it was her armour, her first line of defence in the battlefield of first impressions. Today was no ordinary day; it was the day of her most crucial job interview yet. As she stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, scrutinising every detail, her mind raced with thoughts of the looming consequences of failure.

The stakes were high. Failure meant more than just a missed opportunity; it meant facing the grim reality of having to pack her bags and move back home. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. Moving back home would feel like admitting defeat, like surrendering to the expectations and doubts of her parents.

Her parents never understood her passion for art, always questioning why she didn't pursue a more "practical" career path like medicine or law. But she couldn't deny her calling, couldn't ignore the fire that burned within her to create, to express herself through her art. Yet, with each rejection letter and failed interview, their voices grew louder, their doubts echoing in her mind.

Her heart raced as she realised the gravity of the situation. It was a last-minute interview, sprung upon her with little warning or time to prepare. As she frantically rummaged through her closet, her hands grazed over worn-out shirts and faded jeans, none of which felt suitable for the occasion.

Her friend, Carla, ever the optimist, had tried to reassure her, insisting that she had plenty of great options. But to her, it felt like every garment she owned had suddenly lost its appeal, leaving her feeling utterly unprepared and vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of all the hours she had poured into preparing for this moment, the countless nights spent honing her skills and perfecting her portfolio. She couldn't let it all go to waste now.

As she stepped out of the dressing room, her heart pounded with nervous anticipation. She had meticulously chosen her outfit—a black skirt that reached below her knees, paired with a dark green cropped blouse that accentuated her slender frame. Yet, as she emerged into the bustling store, her eyes scanned the crowd in search of her friend, only to find empty space where her reassuring presence should have been.

A pang of anxiety surged through her as she realised she was on her own, left to navigate this pivotal moment without the comfort of her friend's guidance. She hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable under the gaze of strangers.

As Charles walked by, his attention was suddenly arrested by her presence. There she stood, amidst the sea of shoppers, a striking figure that seemed to transcend the ordinary. His gaze lingered on her, drawn irresistibly to the effortless elegance with which she carried herself.

In that moment, she seemed almost ethereal, like a muse summoned from the depths of his imagination. Her allure was undeniable, a magnetic pull that left him momentarily breathless.

As he glanced at her, a flicker of recognition ignited within him. It wasn't just her physical beauty that struck a chord; it was the familiarity of her presence, a sense of déjà vu that whispered of shared moments through the lens of social media.

With a sudden surge of realisation, he recalled the countless hours he had spent scrolling through her Instagram art profile, marvelling at the brilliance of her creations. Each painting had captured his imagination, drawing him into a world of colour and emotion that he had never experienced before.

Her talent had left an indelible mark on him, sparking a sense of awe and admiration that transcended the digital divide. And now, here she was, standing before him in the flesh, her artistry radiating from every pore.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he contemplated the serendipity of their encounter. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would come face to face with the artist whose work had captivated his heart.

“The green looks lovely on you,” he commented, his voice carrying a gentle sincerity as he casually approached the dressing room area, feigning interest in trying on something himself.

His words were offered with a genuine warmth, a subtle acknowledgment of her choice in attire and an admiration for how it complemented her complexion. Though it was a simple remark, it carried a weight of appreciation, a recognition of her beauty that went beyond the surface.

As he glanced in her direction, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with gratitude, a soft blush dusting her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. It was a fleeting moment, yet one that seemed to linger in the air, charged with a quiet intensity.

“Thank you. I'm actually struggling to find something to wear,” she sighed, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration as she confided in him.

Her words carried a vulnerability that resonated with him, prompting him to pause and offer her a sympathetic smile. He could sense the weight of her uncertainty, the pressure of wanting to make a good impression weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“I know the feeling,” he replied with a reassuring nod, his tone gentle and understanding. “Sometimes, it's like nothing in the store quite matches what we have in mind, right?”

He offered her a moment of solidarity, a shared understanding born from his own experiences of sifting through racks of clothes in search of the perfect ensemble. In that moment, they were united by a common struggle, bonded by the shared quest for sartorial satisfaction.

But beneath the surface, there was also a flicker of admiration for her honesty, for her willingness to let down her guard and share her concerns with a stranger. It was a small gesture, yet one that spoke volumes about her character—a testament to her authenticity and openness.

“Special occasion?” He wondered aloud, his curiosity piqued by her choice of attire.

“A job interview at a local art museum,” she answered, a slight blush gracing her cheeks as she revealed the reason behind her carefully selected outfit.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her as she spoke. The notion of interviewing for a position at an art museum seemed to perfectly align with her elegant demeanour and artistic sensibility.

“Wow, that sounds like a fantastic opportunity,” he remarked, genuine enthusiasm colouring his tone.

As she smiled in response to his encouragement, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in bolstering her confidence for the interview ahead.

“If only I could dress the part, it would help,” she chuckled half-heartedly, a hint of resignation underlying her words. Charles nodded in understanding, his mind already racing with ideas.

“I could help? I don't know much about fashion, but I have an interest in art. No reason why the two shouldn't mesh,” he suggested, a glimmer of excitement dancing in his eyes.

“I've never thought of it like that. Please, I would appreciate it,” she agreed, a grateful smile lighting up her features.

“Wonderful. I'm Charles, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand in a gesture of friendship.

“I'm y/n,” she responded, returning the handshake with a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Let me grab some stuff and then you can change into what you like,” Charles suggested, his eagerness evident as he disappeared into the store once again.

As she nodded in agreement, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within her. Here was someone who not only understood her passion for art but was also willing to lend a helping hand in a realm where she felt less confident.

After a few minutes, Charles returned, his arms laden with an assortment of clothing—dresses in vibrant hues, colourful blouses, bright pants, jackets adorned with eye-catching patterns, and more. Each piece seemed to radiate with its own unique personality, a reflection of Charles's eclectic taste and artistic sensibility.

“Here we go,” Charles exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he laid out the garments before her. “Feel free to try on anything that catches your eye. And don't worry about being adventurous—sometimes, the boldest choices can make the strongest statements.”

Grateful for his encouragement, she surveyed the array of options before her, her heart fluttering with anticipation. With Charles's guidance and support, she felt emboldened to explore new avenues of style and self-expression, eager to see where this collaboration would take her.

As she disappeared behind the velvet curtain to try on the flowy blouse and loose-fit black pants, Charles settled into a nearby chair, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while he waited.

“What museum did you say it was?” He asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced up from his phone.

“Villa Polomo,” came her response from behind the curtain, her voice slightly muffled but still audible.

Charles nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing with thoughts of the renowned museum. Villa Polomo was not just any museum—it was a bastion of culture and creativity, a place where artists and art enthusiasts alike came together to celebrate the beauty of human expression.

And now, here she was, on the brink of potentially joining the ranks of those who had left their mark on Villa Polomo's storied halls. The thought filled Charles with a sense of pride, knowing that he had played a small part in helping her prepare for this momentous occasion.

With a sense of determination, Charles quickly composed a message to the head curator of Villa Polomo, a longtime acquaintance with whom he had forged a strong rapport over the years.

“Hey, it's Charles. Hope you're doing well. I wanted to tell you about a talented artist named y/n who's interviewing for a position at the museum. Her work is truly exceptional, and I thought she'd be a fantastic addition to your team. Keep an eye out for her application—you won't be disappointed.”

As he hit send, Charles couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. He knew that y/n had the talent and the drive to succeed on her own merit, but he also wanted to do everything in his power to ensure that her art found its rightful place within the hallowed halls of Villa Polomo.

And as he waited for a response from the head curator, Charles couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the cusp of witnessing something truly special—an artist's journey from humble beginnings to the pinnacle of success, with Villa Polomo serving as the ultimate canvas for her boundless creativity.

As Carla returned to the dressing room area, her steps faltered slightly upon seeing Charles seated nearby. However, any hesitation melted away as y/n's voice floated from behind the curtain.

“I quite like this blouse, Charles,” y/n exclaimed, her tone filled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I need to get a different colour pants to match the blouse.”

Carla's lips curved into a smile as she listened to their exchange, her presence adding a touch of camaraderie to the moment. A few seconds later, y/n emerged from behind the curtain, and the sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The flowy blouse draped elegantly over her frame, its vibrant hue perfectly complementing her complexion. Paired with the loose-fit black pants, she looked like a vision of effortless beauty—a dream brought to life.

Carla's eyes widened in admiration as she took in y/n's transformed appearance.

“Wow, you look amazing,” she exclaimed, genuine awe colouring her voice.Charles couldn't help but nod in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Absolutely stunning,” he chimed in, his words infused with genuine admiration.

“Where were you?” y/n inquired as Carla returned to their midst.

“I had to take a call, but it seems you were in capable hands. I'm Carla,” she explained, her tone warm and friendly. Charles nodded in acknowledgment, extending his hand to shake Carla's.

“Charles, and it's only been a pleasure helping out,” he replied with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the genuine enjoyment he had found in assisting y/n with her outfit selection.

Carla returned the smile, a sense of gratitude evident in her expression.

As Charles excused himself and disappeared into the store floor, Carla's observant gaze lingered on y/n, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“He was cute!” Carla observed with a knowing grin. “Did you get his number?”

Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shook her head adamantly.

“No!” She argued, though a part of her couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that Charles's presence had stirred within her.

Unbeknownst to her, Charles was already plotting his next move, determined to see her again, especially at Villa Polomo in Monaco. With a sense of purpose driving him forward, he set his plan into motion, knowing that their paths were destined to cross once more.

And as y/n and Carla continued their conversation, unaware of the role fate had yet to play in their lives, Charles remained steadfast in his resolve, eager to seize the opportunity to reconnect with y/n and perhaps, pave the way for a future filled with endless possibilities.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles x reader #leclerc #ferrari f1 #charles leclerc 16 #forza ferrari #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut

[bluedillylee]

He didn’t come back

Friends come back

Art inspiration and reference this artist has a really impressive skill with color and I love their painterly style. This was a challenge for me to see if I could mimic the way they paint and I’m really proud of how it turned out.

[ID: In his red doublet from the dragon hunt Jaskier wipes tears from his eyes as he looks at the viewer. The look on his face is torn between sadness and anger. end ID]

my thoughts on Jaskier below the cut

From what we know from season 2 Jaskier finished writing Her Sweet Kiss after the mountain and then The Golden One and Burn Butcher Burn after that. How I interpret that is Jaskier was hurt by what Geralt said but not heartbroken. He took the time to continue composing and neither Her Sweet Kiss or The Golden One are angry songs. It’s just Burn Butcher Burn thats full of anger.

I mean he’s in his forties by then and has known Geralt for many years. I think while its not fun to be yelled at by your friend he would understand that it was an outburst born from heartbreak. I think he expected Geralt to come back and then Jaskier would shout at him a bit for taking his feelings out on him and then they’d make up and continue on.

I think he was far more hurt that Geralt didn’t come back and try to say sorry for yelling at him. To him it would feel like his friendship wasn’t even worth trying to keep. I am confused a bit about the timeline of the mountain to Geralt looking for Cirilla but i am assuming there was gap of time big enough that Geralt could have sought out Jaskier but didn’t.

Anyways that’s where I think Burn Butcher Burn was born. When Jaskier realizes that Geralt isn’t coming back and Jaskier is wasting his time waiting for him. That’s when i think he got angry and felt heartbroken.

#the witcher #witcher netflix #jaskier

[wildandsmile]

☆.｡.:* The Perfect Day *:.｡.☆

Summary: Your boyfriend has been consistently ignoring you, leaving you puzzled. Every time you attempt to engage in a conversation, he remains confined to the kitchen, citing it as part of a personal challenge. However, you find his explanation dubious.

Tw : Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Clingy Reader (just a bit),

Wc: 3.7k

Kinks : Switch Sanji, Switch Reader, oral (giving + receiving), Cream-pie, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), Rough sex, Mommy Kink and Fuck Toy pet name”

An: Happy day 2 of Kinktober

Enjoy!

On a perfectly ordinary day aboard the Sunny, the golden sun painted the sky with its gentle rays, and the breeze whispered sweetly through the air. Everything felt idyllic, except for one missing piece - your boyfriend, Sanji, who was diligently immersed in the kitchen. You couldn't help but yearn for him to step out, embrace the glorious weather, and share in the perfection of the day. Alas, it seemed impossible, for once Sanji committed himself to a task, nothing could divert his unwavering focus. Why, you wondered, was he toiling so tirelessly that he had no time for his beloved?

The answer to your dilemma is surprisingly straightforward. Sanji had issued a challenge to his father for a cook-off, a ritual they engaged in regularly. Ostensibly, they claimed it was to refine their culinary skills, but everyone understood that it was mostly about boasting rights. However, what truly weighed on your mind in this particular situation was the deviation from their usual routine. Typically, when they embarked on these friendly cook-offs, Sanji would inform you in advance, reassuring you that he'd be occupied for a while. It always eased the solitude you felt. Yet this time, as you instinctively reached out to seek comfort from your boyfriend, you realized he was conspicuously absent.

You casually dismissed it, assuming that Sanji had risen early to prepare breakfast. However, your perception shifted as you rose from your slumber and ventured towards the kitchen. Ordinarily, the air would be filled with the delightful aroma of maple syrup and freshly squeezed juice, but today was a stark departure from the norm. There was no trace of those enticing scents. Instead, you were greeted by the chaotic scene of Chopper and Usopp pounding on the kitchen door, their cries for Sanji to grant them entry ringing through the air. Observing the commotion, you approached the door and inquired of the two lively individuals, "Hey, what's going on?" Your expression remained stoic, secretly hoping they'd pick up on your unwillingness to endure their loud voices so early in the morning. Alas, they failed to catch the hint and both fervently appealed to you for aid in their predicament.

"You have to help us! Sanji won't let us in the kitchen," Usopp exclaimed, his voice quivering in tandem with Chopper's. Fed up with their emotional outburst, you gently shook them off your legs. As you approached the kitchen door, their teary-eyed plea echoed in your ears. To your amusement, you discovered a sign affixed to the door, bearing a whimsical illustration of flames and a warning that anyone stepping inside would become ingredients for his "newest" dish. The childlike touch in the sign made you chuckle.

Though you didn't want to waste too much time, you knocked on the kitchen door, calling out, "Sanji, can we come in? We're starving!" Silence prevailed, prompting you to give it a few more minutes. You wondered if he might be rummaging in the pantry or had the water running too loudly to hear your initial call.

After waiting for another 15 painstaking minutes, your patience ran thin, and you decided to knock on the door once more. This time, there was a subtle rustling from the other side, igniting a glimmer of hope that Sanji might finally open the door. However, instead of revealing himself, he swiftly cracked the door open just enough to slip on another sign.

The new sign read, "Sorry, Mi Amor, I can't let you in right now. But if you're hungry, I've left your favorite snack in our room for you to enjoy. As for the two behind you, tell them to piss off." His reluctance to face you in person began to irritate you, prompting you to knock forcefully on the door, now shouting, "Sanji, you know you could just talk to us instead of putting notes on the door!"

In response, another note swiftly appeared on the door, bearing Sanji's heartfelt message: "I know it's rude, but if I step outside and see your beautiful face, I might get too distracted. I'm battling for something serious, so I can't afford to lose this battle. Please understand, Mi Amor."

"Whatever," you huffed, frustration fueling your actions as you dramatically threw your hands in the air. Storming away, you retreated to your room in a whirlwind of emotions. Anger churned within you, and you collapsed onto your bed, rolling over as if sleep could magically erase your urge to storm back to the kitchen and break down the door just to give your boyfriend a piece of your mind.

Days passed, almost 2 weeks in total, and the longer you distanced yourself from Sanji, the more profound your loneliness and discontent grew. Today marked the day of his impending cook-off with his father. You had resolved that once this culinary showdown concluded, you would corner Sanji and unleash your pent-up frustrations, no longer willing to hold back.

There you were, perched on the deck of the Sunny alongside the rest of the crew, joined by Zeff's crew. Patience was the order of the day as the father-and-son culinary duo emerged from the kitchen, proudly presenting their dishes one by one. The feast began with creamy shrimp and crab bisque for appetizers, followed by a steaming plate of seafood rice. To cap off this delectable meal, they brought out Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises, all of which was washed down with a refreshing cola chosen by none other than Franky himself.

The moment had arrived for everyone to cast their votes. One by one, you all ventured into the kitchen, slipping a piece of paper bearing your name into a box marked with the respective chef's name. As you lingered, waiting for your turn, you strategically chose to go last, hoping Sanji would be compelled to meet your gaze at the table. However, your plan seemed to crumble when all he did was steal quick glances your way before turning back to his business.

Finally, it was your moment, and you pushed back from the table, making your way to the kitchen with determination in every step. There was no shock or surprise about whose box you'd place your paper into; it was a given. As you slid your paper into Sanji's box, you returned outside, casting a fierce glare in his direction the entire way. However, he remained unperturbed, not even raising an eyebrow in response, which only fueled your simmering anger.

When Nami rose from her seat and ventured into the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. She always announced the winner, but this time, your excitement was far from the usual "I hope my boyfriend wins." Instead, it was the eager anticipation of "I can't wait for this to be over so I can give my boyfriend a piece my mind" kind of excitement.

Before long, Nami raised the card high into the air, capturing everyone's attention. "Can I get a drum roll, please?" she requested, and Franky and Brook eagerly obliged, joyously providing the rhythmic beat. With the anticipation building, Nami brought the card back to her face, scrutinizing both sides of the table before dramatically declaring, "And the winner is... Sanji!"

A tidal wave of cheers erupted, and hats and sandals soared into the air in celebration. Amid the jubilation, Zeff strolled over to Sanji, offering him a hearty pat on the back as he remarked, "I'll let you win this time, boy." Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Zeff couldn't help but roll his eyes before retreating back into the kitchen.

With the excitement in the air slowly fading, you made your way over to Sanji, determined to have a private conversation with him. Grabbing him by the collar, you ushered him into your shared bedroom. The voices of Luffy, the others, and Zeff's crew murmured, "Oh, he's in trouble."

As you slammed the bedroom door shut, you finally turned to face Sanji. He sat on the bed with his back to you, seemingly avoiding your gaze. You attempted to call his name, hoping he would face you, but he remained unresponsive. Growing frustrated, you marched over to the bed and seized his face, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"Sanji, why the hell didn't you tell me about the cook-off, let alone that you'd lock yourself in the kitchen for almost two weeks?" you seethed, your voice laced with anger. It surprised you how furious you felt, but Sanji's continued silence only fueled your emotions, pushing aside any other feelings besides anger and rage.

"Fine, if that's how you want to play this, then I'll just leave. There's no point in trying to talk something out with someone who doesn't want to talk anyway!" you shouted in exasperation, rising from the bed and heading toward the door.

However, just as you were about to open it, Sanji's hands enveloped yours, and he gently pressed you against the door. You considered turning around to ask him what he wanted, but he seemed to have anticipated your question.

"I wasn't ignoring you on purpose, Mi Amor. You know I could never do that," he began, his voice filled with sincerity. "Remember when I told you I put a lot on the line for me to win today."

You couldn't quite grasp what he might have put on the line, especially something worth locking himself away for, but for now, you pushed that thought to the side.

"Yes, I remember; you posted it on one of the note on the door ," you retorted in a sassy tone, rolling your eyes at the memory. Sanji's hand slipped from yours at your remark, and he withdrew his touch from your back. It took a moment for your emotions to settle before you turned around to face him.

This time, Sanji was also facing you, and his expression was one of focused seriousness. In a moment that took you completely by surprise, he dropped to one knee, locking eyes with you. From behind his back, he produced a velvet box and extended it toward you.

"Well, Mi Amor, the truth is, I battled my father today to earn his blessing so I could ask you for your hand in marriage," he explained, his voice brimming with sincerity. "Of course, my father, being the obstinate man he is, said he'd never allow some 'worthless chef' like me to marry a girl like you, you know, because of his 'Zeff Pride.'"

"So, Mi Amor, now that I ask you this let me give it a shot," Sanji said, a radiant smile spreading across his face, "Mi Amor, Will you marry me?"

In that moment, all the lingering anger from before seemed to dissolve, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of pure happiness. Without hesitation, you leaped into Sanji's arms, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. When you finally pulled away, your eyes locked onto his, and you answered, "Yes, yes, of I marry you."

A shared sense of elation enveloped the two of you as you leaned in for another kiss, this one longer and more fervent than the first. When you eventually separated, the electric energy between you seemed to demand something more, after all, you finally had your beloved boyfriend back in your arms, and he had just given you the biggest shock of your life. There was only one thing left to do with all this newfound energy.

With determination, you pulled Sanji down onto the bed with you, locking him in a passionate kiss that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Only when your lungs felt like they were aflame did you finally break away, looking up at him with a playful yet seductive tone in your voice.

"You know, you owe me for leaving me all alone all this nights, needy and horny, with no one to turn to but myself," you purred, sending shivers down Sanji's spine. He gazed at you with lovesick eyes, but you weren't ready to give in to him just yet. You wanted him to feel the same neediness you had endured over these past few weeks.

"Yes, I know," Sanji admitted, his voice filled with longing?

"Yes, I know what?" you pressed, your lips tantalizingly close to his. As he tried to pull you in for a kiss, you halted him by placing your hand on his chest. "You heard me, 'yes, what?' I know what?" This time, your tone dripped with a venomous allure, eliciting a quick, submissive response from your love-struck partner.

"Yes, I know, Mommy~," Sanji whispered, and you rewarded him with a swift but savory kiss. Pulling away, you declared with satisfaction, "Good boy~."

☆ ☆ ☆ Smut Time ☆ ☆ ☆

“M’m, Mi Amor.. Please, hurry up and touch me ," he breathes out in a languid, seductive tone, his voice dripping with desire. The subtle quiver in his voice betrays the undeniable arousal building within him, evident by the tantalizing bulge that begins to take shape in his trousers. "Haven't even touched you yet, and you're already driving yourself crazy," you purr seductively, your voice dripping with confidence. With a teasing smirk, your hand glides sensually up and down his trousers, tantalizingly stroking his hardened cock through the fabric. As his eyes flutter closed, succumbing to the intoxicating pleasure, you revel in the power you hold over him. Finally, you sensually unbutton his pants, feeling the anticipation build as each button gives way to your touch. With a gentle tug, his pants gracefully glide down his legs, pooling at his ankles, revealing his desire. As you sensually caress him with your tongue, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from his lips.

“Fuc-, PLease. I'm begging you, just touch me already," he whispers, his fingers lingering in anticipation as he shields his eyes with a seductive embrace. Finally, you sensually remove his boxers, liberating his throbbing com from its confines. His throbbing cock was a deep, sensuous shade of brown, glistening with the tantalizing percum. Not wasting any more time, you sensually began tracing a luscious path with your tongue along the velvety contours of his throbbing cock.

“PLease just keEp touching me Ther-…. just like that…”

“It feels so good…hngh…”

So consumed by your insatiable longing, you succumb to temptation and eagerly reclaim his throbbing cock between your lips, sensually caressing and pleasuring him with your skillful movements. Before long, his strong hands become entwined in your luscious locks, his tantalizing touch igniting a delicious shiver that cascades down your sensuous curves, causing a delightful moistness to blossom in the depths of your desire. "Shi- oh, hold on," he murmurs, his voice trembling as you trail a trail of tantalizing kisses along his throbbing cock.

Your tantalizing lips were sending him into a frenzy of desire. He struggled to restrain himself, but his efforts were futile as he succumbed to the overwhelming desire, releasing his hot load, cascading down your eager throat."Damn, why are you so unbelievably perfect?" Sanji moans, his voice laced with desire as he attempts to calm himself from the intoxicating pleasure. He pulls you closer, their lips meeting in a passionate, soul-stirring kiss, their bodies aflame with longing. In a hushed whisper, he confesses "Now it's your turn," you begin to feel a shiver run down your spine. You couldn't help but wonder what he had in store for you, but the anticipation only fueled your desire. His gaze, dark and intense, locked with yours, igniting a fire deep within. In that moment, you were willing to surrender yourself completely, ready to fulfill his every desire.

So, imagine yourself in a state of undress, sensually reclining on the bed, your legs enticingly parted. Sanji, now positioned between your inviting thighs, begins to grace your skin with delicate butterfly kisses, sending electrifying waves of pleasure coursing through your body, causing you to quiver with anticipation.You sensually positioned your legs upon his strong shoulders, tantalizingly inching yourself closer, your enticing derrière delicately poised on the edge of the bed. He couldn't resist the temptation, eagerly pressing his lips against your delicate folds, exploring them with a hunger that consumed him. You let out a breathless moan as the electrifying touch sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't resist the temptation to indulge him; he had been so sensually captivating up until this moment.

So when he gently caressed a digit into your passionate embrace, he delicately curved it, exploring for that tender spot within you that would ignite your deepest desires. Oh, my sweet, hushed moans escape my lips! You sensually arched your enticing derriere off the plush mattress, simultaneously enticingly withdrawing from and tantalizingly inching towards his electrifying caress. “Oh, Sanji, yes, just like that!” He then sensually slipped a second finger into your moist and eager cunt, while his tantalizing lips lavished attention on your throbbing clit. His liberated hand caressed the curvature of your enticing derrière, providing a firm support as you sensually undulated your hips, indulging in the electrifying pleasure of his tantalizing oral ministrations.

Holy Shii, I'm cumming, you sobbed as you struggled to free yourself from Sanji's long tongue, but he held on tighter, tightening his hold on your thighs. “ That’s right Mi Amor lose yourself on my fucking tongue," he whispered seductively, causing a shiver of anticipation to course through your body. Sanji let out a passionate moan as your essence enveloped his eager tongue. His wrist and lips throbbed with a delicious ache, but he dared not halt his tantalizing movements as you indulged in the intoxicating waves of pleasure, moaning and panting above him. When you were finally done, you sensually pressed your delicate foot against his shoulder, exerting a tantalizing amount of pressure as you gracefully pushed him away from your alluring body. He sensually collapsed onto his luscious derriere.

You shifted yourself to wear your hovering over his cock, slamming yourself down on him you both let a whimpering moan.

Soon after you place his hands down your waist making him hold you firmly as you steadied yourself. You slowly lifted yourself off his cock only leaving the tip inside before you thrust down on him slowly feeling as his cock sunk deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. So you swirled around in his cock a more before you thrust yourself back down on his hard cock. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. You lifted yourself completely off cock, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until you slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace trying to slowly over stem yourself and him.

Finally, after observing his graceful rise, you beckon him with a seductive gaze, enticing him to crawl towards you with the allure of a smitten paramour. Gently, you observed as Sanji sensually made his way onto the bed, captivating your attention. However, your gaze couldn't resist the allure of his throbbing cock, already glistening with percum, despite his recent release. You succumbed to the allure of granting him mercy, tantalizing him with hours of playful teasing. But after seductively drawing him into a tantalizingly brief kiss, you sensually withdrew from his lips, your open mouth now leaving a trail of passionate kisses down his sculpted chest and tantalizingly toned abdomen, until your lips finally reached his throbbing, achingly engorged cock.

Each passionate thrust delved so deeply within you, igniting a pleasurable ache that resonated throughout your being. Immediately, the throbbing tip of his pulsating member discovered the depths of your most intimate core, relentlessly caressing your sensitive cervix with every forceful thrust that you eagerly reciprocated. Your seductive eyelids languidly descended, their weighty allure captivating the senses, while your eyes sensually embarked on a tantalizing journey, rolling back with an intoxicating rhythm, teasing the boundaries of ecstasy.

His passionate pursuit was so intense, every tantalizing collision of your hips against his pelvis sent electrifying waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being. The intense pleasure of his skillful touch, as he passionately explored your most intimate depths, had ignited a fiery desire within you. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of surrender, ready to succumb to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy once more. He sensed it as well, as he unleashed a primal roar in reaction to the throbbing depths of your gummy wall.

He choked out because the sensation of you slamming yourself against him was too much for him to bear. "Fuck you feel so fucking good Mommy," he said."You enjoy these, don't you? Being used as a dirty plaything," you purred seductively, your gaze locked with his, never faltering in your rhythmic movements.

His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like that was the only thing that mattered. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body fully sir, coming to your feral desires. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Sanji's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.

Your heartbeat raced with a tantalizing thrill. As he sensually caressed your waist, his hands delved deeper, eagerly flipping you over. You sensually writhed, yearning to liberate yourself and reclaim your authority. However, as he firmly clasped your waist, his teeth sinking into your supple shoulder, it became evident that he had no intention of relinquishing control. So you surrender yourself completely, granting him the power to arrange you in any way he desires, igniting his primal hunger to satisfy his deepest desires. His tantalizingly firm hands sensually caressed your supple torso, tracing a path to your alluring back, as he effortlessly lifted you up, igniting a fiery desire within you, as he gracefully rocked back onto his knees. So you allow your delicate visage to caress his neck, the intoxicating scent of his essence enveloping your every sense.

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

You hold onto him as your euphoria gradually subsides. Once both of you mellow out, you share one more passionate kiss before snuggling up together. "Sanji, what if the others overheard us?" you inquire, a faint sheen of sweat on your brow. "Don't fret, Mi Amor," he reassures you, planting a tender kiss on your forehead and grinning. "I discreetly added a sleeping drug to everyone's meals," he reveals. You were about to respond but its momentarily stifled by Sanji's fingers gently pressed against your lips. "Don't think on that, just go to sleep, Mi Amor."

You dismiss your concerns with a casual shrug and hold onto Sanji even more tightly. With affection in your voice, you murmur, "Love you," as you begin to drift off into slumber. Sanji responds with a gentle kiss and whispers, "I love you more," just before he succumbs to sleep as well.

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #anime smut #18+ only #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece alive action #one piece smut #sanji smut #sanji simp #spooktober #halloween #kinktober #writers on tumblr #fluff #munch munch #sanji x reader #straw hat sanji #monster trio

[deliciousangelfestival]

Cozy Secrets || Chp 3

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

Chp 1 , Chp 2, Chp 3, -

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The days turned into weeks, and there was still no sign of Bucky returning home. Y/N continued with her life, focusing on her work as an interior designer. Today's agenda involved meeting a new client, Mr. Kensington, an eccentric aristocrat who had recently acquired a house in New York.

Y/N arrived at the grand mansion, its façade oozing opulence and mystery. The butler led her through the elaborate corridors adorned with priceless artifacts until she reached Mr. Kensington's study. The room was filled with antique furniture, rare paintings, and an air of sophistication.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N, delighted to meet you," Mr. Kensington greeted with a flourish. He was a distinguished man, dressed in impeccable attire that matched the grandeur of his surroundings.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kensington," Y/N replied, taking a seat.

Mr. Kensington wasted no time in getting to the point. "I've heard of your extraordinary skills in interior design, particularly your ability to keep matters discreet. I have a rather unique project for you."

Y/N nodded, intrigued. "I'm all ears. What do you have in mind?"

Mr. Kensington leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a spark of excitement. "I need a secret vault hidden in my study. A concealed door, perhaps behind a bookshelf or a portrait. I trust you can handle such a task?"

A secret vault, Y/N thought, the intrigue deepening. She had designed various rooms and hidden spaces in the past, but this request added a layer of mystery she found intriguing.

"Of course, Mr. Kensington. Creating concealed spaces is my specialty. Do you have any specific preferences or themes for the hidden door?"

Mr. Kensington stroked his chin, contemplating. "I fancy the idea of a bookshelf that reveals the entrance when a particular book is pulled. As for the theme, surprise me. I enjoy the unexpected."

Y/N nodded, mentally noting down the details. "Very well. I'll start working on the design, and we can discuss any adjustments or additions as the project progresses."

"Excellent, Ms. Y/N. Money is no object, so spare no expense in ensuring the utmost secrecy and sophistication," Mr. Kensington declared with a sly smile.

As Y/N delved into the intricacies of the project, discussing potential materials, hidden mechanisms, and the overall aesthetic, she couldn't help but be drawn into Mr. Kensington's eccentric world.

Days turned into weeks as Y/N meticulously planned and executed the design for the hidden vault. Mr. Kensington, appreciating her dedication and creativity, granted her access to the entire mansion, including rooms filled with his vast collection of artifacts.

One day, while working in the study, Y/N felt a subtle change in the atmosphere. The workers seemed unfamiliar, and a hushed voice whispered, "Psst, it's me."

Startled, Y/N turned to see Bucky disguised as one of the workers. The realization dawned on her – Bucky had been undercover in Mr. Kensington's mansion all along.

"Y/N," Bucky greeted with a smirk, "Surprised to see me?"

A mixture of relief and curiosity washed over her. "Bucky, what on earth are you doing here?"

Bucky chuckled. "Let's just say, your client and I have a mutual interest in keeping things hidden."

Y/N's surprise at seeing Bucky in disguise quickly transformed into a mix of confusion and intrigue. As she absorbed the revelation that Bucky had been undercover, she couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of Mr. Kensington's secrets.

Bucky, maintaining his cover among the workers, approached Y/N with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "Fancy meeting you here, Y/N. Turns out, our dear client has more than just a penchant for eccentric designs."

Y/N, still processing the information, replied with a subtle nod. She had become accustomed to the unexpected twists in her life, but this one took the cake.

Bucky leaned in, speaking in a low voice. "There's a nuclear code hidden within Mr. Kensington's vault. My mission is to retrieve it, but the security here is tighter than I anticipated."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, realizing the gravity of the situation. A nuclear code – a high-stakes game that transcended the realm of her usual discreet designs. She glanced at the intricately designed vault, wondering how it concealed such a dangerous secret.

"So, what's the plan?" Y/N asked, her words measured and composed.

Bucky explained the intricacies of the security systems and the need for Y/N's expertise. Her task was to create a diversion, something significant enough to draw attention away from the vault, while Bucky maneuvered through the mansion in pursuit of the elusive nuclear code.

As Y/N immersed herself in planning the diversion, she couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a web of espionage and secrecy. The mansion, once a canvas for her creative designs, had transformed into a labyrinth of hidden agendas and dangerous secrets.

The night of the operation arrived, cloaked in shadows and suspense. Y/N, clad in dark attire, executed the diversion with precision. A well-timed malfunction in the mansion's power grid created chaos, diverting attention and leaving the security team scrambling to restore order.

In the midst of the commotion, Bucky, still disguised as a worker, stealthily navigated through the mansion. His every move calculated, blending seamlessly with the chaos Y/N had orchestrated.

As Bucky approached the vault, the tension escalated. The intricate mechanisms of Y/N's diversion worked their magic, creating a window of opportunity for Bucky to access the vault without raising suspicions.

However, just as Bucky reached for the vault's hidden entrance, an unexpected voice echoed through the study. "What's going on here?"

Y/N, stationed strategically to monitor the situation, recognized the voice – Mr. Kensington himself, drawn to the scene of the disturbance.

Bucky froze, his disguise momentarily at risk. Y/N, acting on instinct, stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "Mr. Kensington, there's been a technical glitch. We're working to resolve it. Please return to a secure area."

Mr. Kensington scrutinized Y/N for a moment, his gaze piercing. Yet, something in her demeanor convinced him to heed her instructions. With a reluctant nod, he retreated from the study, leaving Y/N and Bucky in the tense aftermath.

As the seconds ticked away, Bucky resumed his mission. The hidden door creaked open, revealing the vault's mysterious contents. The nuclear code, concealed within a secure compartment, awaited extraction.

With the mission accomplished, Bucky discreetly exited the study, merging back into the chaos of the diversion. Y/N, maintaining her composed exterior, discreetly observed his retreat.

Once the mansion returned to a semblance of normalcy, Y/N and Bucky reconvened in a discreet location. The weight of the mission lingered between them, unspoken words echoing in the air.

"Thanks for the assist, Y/N," Bucky acknowledged, his gaze a mix of gratitude and an unspoken understanding.

As he prepared to depart, a sincere expression of gratitude painted his face. Bucky enveloped Y/N in a heartfelt hug.

"Y/N, you're a lifesaver," he whispered, the weight of unspoken appreciation hanging in the air. With a nod and a final glance, Bucky disappeared into the night, leaving Y/N to navigate the aftermath of espionage and the echoes of a world she had unexpectedly become a part of.

Y/N returned home, the events of the covert operation still playing in her mind like a suspenseful movie. The intricacies of espionage and the clandestine world were not something she had ever imagined becoming a part of, yet here she was, entangled in the mysteries that unfolded beyond her interior design projects.

The next day brought an unexpected visitor to her doorstep. A woman dressed in black, exuding an air of mystery, stood on her porch. She introduced herself as Natasha, a member of the same agency as Bucky.

"Y/N," Natasha began, her gaze sharp and assessing, "you handled the situation with Mr. Kensington admirably. You have a knack for navigating high-stakes scenarios. We could use someone like you."

Y/N, still processing the surreal turn of events, regarded Natasha with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. The agency, with its covert operations and hidden agendas, seemed like a world far removed from her artistic endeavors.

Natasha continued, "You've proven yourself resourceful and discreet. We have a proposal for you – join our ranks. Work with us, and your skills won't be limited to interior design."

Y/N hesitated, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. The quiet life she had known, filled with designs and creative projects, now stood at a crossroads. The allure of the unknown, coupled with the desire to unravel the mysteries that had become intertwined with her life, tugged at her curiosity.

"What do you say, Y/N?" Natasha inquired, her expression unreadable.

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Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #buckybarnes #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier #sebastian stan characters

[leakyweep]

Smoker x Afab!reader - Stress Relief - NSFW

A/N; I can’t stop thinking about this man railing me in his office so here... slides you this from under the table

Warnings: NSFW; MINORS DNI; afab reader, office sex, boss/assistant, degradation, creampie

Words; 0.6k

Being a Vice Admiral, Smoker needed a bit of help in the office. He had offered you the job after seeing your impressive skills you used to be Crocodile’s former accountant. Your organizational and time management skills were the best he’d seen; and he felt a sense of pride when he thought about how well his assistant performed. 

Not to mention how beautiful you were; and how he noticed those longing stares you would drag down his exposed abs, to his belt- darting back up to his pupils with an innocent look. Smoker had his fair share of glances at your curves, the way your legs looked in those form-fitting pencil skirts, the way your breasts complimented that button up and blazer you always donned.

Never in a million years did you think Smoker would act on his feelings, nor yourself with those butterflies that lived in your stomach when around him. However; it had been a long day. Much paperwork to do after the War of the Best, surprisingly. Tensions were high, and the sexual rigidity between you two had only grown with your stress. 

So here you were, legs wrapped around his strong abdomen, taking his thick cock with desperation as your drenched pussy filled the room with delicious squelching noises that only encouraged the man to pound into you deeper and harder. He cursed at the way your gushy walls choked his dick, making his head throb with need deep inside your core. The two cigars hanging from his lips looked as if they would snap under the bite of his teeth.

Your hands braced against the laminated wood of his desk, your button-up completely destroyed as Smoker gripped it; he pulled it apart as a splay of buttons fell to the floor to grab one of your perked nipples. A soft whimper left your mouth at the feeling of his digits squeezing your sensitive bud and the delicious stretch of his thick, veiny cock pumping in and out of your cunt, which was now pulsing around his length. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you slut,” he whispered in your ear, leaning down to drop the weight of his chest against yours. “I bet you’ve dreamed of this cock fucking into you right here, on this desk. Don’‘t lie to me; have you been having dirty thoughts of your boss?” His voice was stark and commanding but also dripping in honey as his paced quickened, pounding into your dripping pussy with no mercy. The thick fingers of his free hand reached down between your sweaty bodies, placing two of them on your hardened pearl to push you over the edge.

“Mmhmm, needed you,” you whimpered. Smoker just let out a quiet yet menacing hum, relishing in the way you mewled at the feeling of his girthy length pistoning in and out of you. He picked you up from the desk, using his strength to bounce your weeping cunt on his pulsing dick. You could feel a guttural moan escape the back of your throat, almost as if it were a warning for your impending orgasm. Lewd smacks from your hips bouncing on his cock filled the office, and he knew anyone that walked by would know exactly what he and his sexy assistant were up to.

“Smo-Smoker-san!” You cried out, nodding as tears pricked your eyes at the intense orgasm that overtook your core, the pulsing and dragging of your walls against his cock making him groan. He threw his head back as thick spurts of his spend painted the inside muscles of your cunt, feeling deliciously warm inside even as he pulled out after letting his cum sit inside your pussy. 

He watched in disdain as his cum started to drip down your leg, and you jolted at the feeling of his fingers stuffing back inside your entrance. “Don’t waste any of this.” Your eyes rolled back at the slight overstimulation, your body jerking as shockwaves reverberated from your core. 

You both knew while this was the first time this had happened, it definitely wouldn’t be the last. 

#smoker x reader #smoker x reader smut #smoker smut #one piece #smoker one piece smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction

[clarks-letterman]

lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

#dark fic #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x gender neutral reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x gn reader #peter parker x gender neutral!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x gender neutral reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!tom holland #perv!peter parker

[theotterpenguin]

there’s a post floating around here claiming that sokka is the only person keeping the atla kids alive and it very much reminded me of how the labor that women perform is often undervalued and overlooked. (and this post is not meant to be targeted towards op at all, but rather is speaking towards a general trend that i’ve noticed in the atla fandom)

i recently rewatched atla and it’s surprised me that the fandom interpretation is that only sokka is worried about the group’s lack of food/money, particularly in book 1, because katara worries over the exact same things and is usually the one backing up sokka. in “the warriors of kyoshi,” sokka reminds aang that they need to make it to the northern water tribe soon and stop making pitstops, and katara agrees with him. when they stop at kyoshi island, katara reminds aang multiple times that it’s risky to stay in one place for too long. in “the waterbending scroll,” sokka worries over how little money they have left after aang wastes money on a bison whistle, so katara takes charge of keeping track of the money instead, and she also reminds aang that they need to practice waterbending, not focus on having fun. in “the storm,” katara realizes they’re out of food and says they need to go to the market, then sokka gets a job so they’ll have more money for food. in “the king of omashu” and “the deserter,” sokka worries that aang will be discovered, and katara agrees so she suggests that they wear disguises. in “the cave of two lovers,” sokka says they need to focus on getting to omashu without getting sidetracked, and katara agrees. in “avatar day,” sokka and katara buy food/supplies together while aang waits for them. 

despite sokka being seen as the pragmatic sibling, both katara and sokka are pretty united in their practicality and trying to keep their mission on track. katara only makes exceptions on a couple occasions when she values standing up against injustice even more than sticking to the plan, such as freeing the imprisoned earthbenders or helping the fire nation village as the painted lady. and the way that i've seen people use katara’s passion for social justice as a way to argue that she’s “irresponsible” seems a bit disingenuous considering that she sees it as a moral duty to help people in need (and let alone everything else she does on the day-to-day to help the group).

(“the library” is in fact the only episode in the entire show that i can remember where katara disagrees with sokka and says there’s no harm in having some fun in their downtime. and as soon as sokka finds out about the existence of the library he’s also fine with taking a break from their mission lol. despite what the fandom thinks, it’s not the norm).

and while there’s a lot of focus on sokka’s mapping/planning skills, there’s also so much that katara does so much behind the scenes that isn’t as explicitly acknowledged. “the chase” tells us that katara, aang, and sokka all contribute pretty equally to setting up their camp while traveling. in “jet” they all help pack up camp, in “the great divide” sokka sets up their tent, katara collects firewood, and aang gathers food. and yet even though they all seem to contribute pretty equally to setting up camp, we are shown so many scenes of katara doing extra chores while the others are preoccupied with something else. in “the southern air temple,” katara packs up their supplies while sokka is sleeping, then again packs up everything while sokka’s eating the food momo gave him. “the warriors of kyoshi” episode implies katara is the only one mending everyone’s clothes, and while sokka is getting his ass kicked training with the kyoshi warriors and aang is entertaining his fan girls, katara is shopping for food and supplies.

in “the painted lady,” the group all goes shopping for food together, but it’s katara who cooks dinner for everyone (shown twice in this episode). in “the runaway,” katara’s at camp cooking for everyone while they’re off tricking a gambler to make more money. sokka, aang, and toph buy food/supplies, then leave them with katara to sort out while they go have fun in the village (and sokka gets to buy his messenger hawk). and katara’s the one seen as a “buzzkill” for worrying about their safety. this pattern continues in “the western air temple” and “the firebending masters” where we see katara cooking and serving food to the group, but there aren’t scenes of them doing other chores.

and of course, “the desert” is an entire episode dedicated to katara keeping the group alive. and that’s not even to mention the countless amount of emotional support that she gives to her friends, often putting other people’s needs above her own. sure, katara might not be the person with the map or the master plan, but that doesn’t mean her contributions are any less important.

sokka’s character arc involves growing into a strong leader and strategist, so it makes sense that the fandom often likes to focus on the moments that go into building this arc, the moments where he does take the lead and is responsible. but for katara? it’s just something required of her and of most female characters. taking on extra responsibilities is something to be admired in men, but just expected of women. 

and to be clear, i’m not saying that sokka is not responsible, he definitely is. i just find it interesting that some parts of this fandom have a skewed perception of katara’s role in the group, often claiming her to be the “irresponsible” or “immature” sibling while poor, exhausted Dad!Sokka™ is the only one keeping these silly kids alive. sokka and katara both had to grow up too fast, they’re both kids who are very mature for their age and took on adult responsibilities far too young (though in different ways). acknowledging the sacrifices katara made and the labor she took on to take care of others isn’t diminishing sokka’s character arc, it’s something he even admits in the show himself. and i love their relationship because even with such a complicated family dynamic, it’s so clear how much they love and support each other.

#sokka #katara #katara analysis #atla #atla fandom critical #“katara is the silly irrational girl while sokka is the mature dad who stepped up” do y'all even hear yourselves #i have a lot of thoughts about how the way that the fandom misinterprets sokka & katara's relationship #as like a reactionary mechanism against the potentially sexist writing of the source material #but that'll have to wait until another post #my post #my meta

[ladykibutsuji]

“Writing”

> Writer!Reader x Uppermoons

> Headcanon: Reader's favorite hobby is writing and the Uppermoons took interest in her hobby, What do the uppermoons thinks of reader's excellent skills in writing?

> SERIES: I'll be making more for each hobbies (Such as painting, sports etc.)

> Normal Timeline

> Requested by: sleepykye

> ‼️WARNING‼️: Mention of disturbing things at douma's part

> I don't own the pictures used

|KOKUSHIBO|

Reader is a Upper Rank Demon

- You and Kokushibo was sent on a mission together by no other than Muzan Kibutsuji Himself, Your mission was to investigate a certain place where the blue spider lily could be located.

- Investigating for the whole night you still couldn't find the whereabouts of the blue spider lily and it was almost dawn so you and Kokushibo decided to continue searching once the sun goes down.

- The both of you stayed in a abandoned inn and since demons don't really need sleep you are just passing time by doing your favorite hobby which is writing

- You have been writing for a few minutes and Kokushibo is just observing you curious on what you are writing about

- it was silent for a while until kokushibo finally decided to ask you

- "What's...that?"

- you stared at him for a short amount of time before inviting him to come closer so you can show him what you are doing

- He was hesitant at first to come closer but he eventually did and you showed him what you are doing

- "I'm writing books based on my imagination, I have different kinds of them do you want to read them?"

- Kokushibo thought about it for a while before finally saying 'sure'

- You showed him a few books you wrote and his eyes landed on a certain book that have the title of "Brother Stays Together"

- Needless to say after reading it he was OBSESSED

- "Impressive." That's all he said.

- He doesn't say much but he is really interested and invested in your books.

- For the whole day you are writing new chapters for a certain book while kokushibo reads them after you finish

- He thinks you are very skilled in writing and he wouldn't mind reading your books over and over again.

- Reading your books gives him a peace of mind

- Starting from that day on He kept some of the books you made with him just so he could read them after training

- Sometimes he would help you with suggesting ideas for your book

- Kokushibo is your Biggest #1 fan even though he won't admit it.

|DOUMA|

You are one of douma's followers

- Douma was planning to consume you

- He was about to enter your room until he stumbled upon a book that you made on the floor

- he was curious so he decided to pick it up and read it

- The book contains disturbing things.

- If other people read your book they would be horrified but for douma he was Impressed

- He loves every detail you put onto the book and praised your skills in his head

- You who just exited your room found douma reading a book, at first you thought it was a normal book but as your vision became more clear you noticed that it was the book you created inspired by your unexplainable and angry thoughts

- 'fuck I'm screwed' you thought

- As soon as douma spotted you in a corner you thought he was going to be disgusted or be horrified of you but he just smiled at you while waving

- "Hello my dear Y/N~ did I woke you up?"

- You greeted him back as you immediately started walking towards him

- "I-i'm sorry for what I wrote, I promise to never do it again!"

- You apologized while bowing your head and douma was confused to why you are apologizing, he then chuckled while placing a fan on his mouth

- "Keep your head up dear, there is no need to be sorry afterall what you just wrote excites me! You should make more of these"

- You were stunned, you didn't expect him to react this way but you are also glad he didn't kicked you out of the cult because you have no where else to go

- "if you wish, my lord"

- Starting from that day on, douma thought that it would be a waste to consume someone who have such talent in writing so he kept you alive

- He always praises your work and treasured the books you gifted to him

- He also uses the disturbing things in your book just to piss off akaza and of course it always work especially if it's with women

|AKAZA|

Reader is Human

- Akaza was just walking around the place trying to gather information about the blue spider lily until he heard a girl crying from a distance

- He tried to ignore it but at the same time he got curious and curiosity got the best of akaza so he followed the noise

- After walking he found you sitting on a bench alone while uncontrollably sobbing with ripped papers around you

- He decided to approach you and you didn't noticed his presence until he spoke

- "Are you okay?"

- You flinched a little and wiped your tears as you stared at the man before you

- at first you wanted to ignore him and continue to have a mental breakdown but there's something inside you that's telling you that you can trust him so you spoke

- "A bunch of teenagers ruined the book I was making and they criticized my work... what's wrong with putting my imagination into a book?"

- Akaza felt pity for you as he gently rubbed your head

- "There's no need to cry about it, I'll help you with making another one."

- Delighted you immediately stopped sobbing since this was the first time that someone offered to help you with writing

- Luckily, nobody else was in the house with you so you invited akaza over to rewrite your book

- Even though akaza still has a mission to finish it wouldn't hurt to stay over a little at someone else's place right? It was almost dawn anyways

- At your place, Akaza gave you inspiration and ideas as you wrote them down in a piece of paper

- The whole time he was admiring your facial features while you are writing

- After a few hours, You are still not halfway finish but akaza could see your talents in writing stories

- You offered to let him read some books you have done before and he reluctantly agreed

-He's a bit scared to hold the book you are giving afraid that he will somehow ruin it

- After reading for a while, akaza was mesmerized by your writing

- He finds it heart-warming and calming

- Because of you he develops such likings to book

- Even though he only likes books when you are the writer

- "You are really good at this Y/N, I don't get why those people would look down at your skills."

- When the sun comes down he had to take his leave since he didn't want to upset his Lord Muzan but luckily for him you let him take some of your book for him to read when he's bored

- at first akaza didn't really like the thought of having to take your book with him

- He's worried that it might get destroyed when he's fighting a demon hunter and he didn't want to destroy such masterpiece

- But again he's afraid that he will hurt your feelings if he refused so he just made sure to take care of it properly

- btw the teenagers who made fun of you are missing

|HANTENGU|

Reader is Human

- You found hantengu near your house and thought that he was just a normal elderly man so you decided to take him in your house just to take proper care of him in a short amount of time

- He only stayed for a day and as soon as the sun goes down he decided to leave as he have a mission to fulfill

- "wait! Isn't it too dark for you to go out?"

- He flinched when he heard your voice and apologized that he really has to go

- You didn't stop him understanding that he probably has a home to return to so you gave him a book before he leaves

- He hesitantly accepted your gift before leaving and gave you a thanks before running off like a scaredy-cat

- At the mission, Hantengu got bored and decided to read the book you gave him

- After finishing the book he was speechless

- Too good that he was speechless

- He lets also lets the other clones read your book

- What the other clones think:

- Sekido, Finds peace in your writing

- Aizetsu, Finds Comfort in your writing

- Karaku and Urogi won't get tired of re-reading the comedy in your book and they find it fun

|Gyokko|

Reader is a Upper Rank Demon

- Gyokko was giving his fellow uppermoons a pot as a gift

- He also gifted you a pot with Sakura inspired design and you happily took it

- You decided to exchange gifts with him, as he gave you the pot you gave him a book that you made just a few days prior

- He was happy that you also gave him something so in order to appreciate your gift he started reading it

- Now, Gyokko isn't the type to appreciate someone else's work but when it comes to you he feel head over heels for your writing

- He thinks it's 'Art'

- He loved the details and the calmness that it brought him

- He treasures your book now

- He even made a pot inspired by the book you gave him

|DAKI \ GYUTARO|

Reader works under daki

- Even though daki was cruel towards you this doesn't stop you from wanting to give her a gift

- You gifted her a book that is about 'Siblings Love'

- At first, Daki seems uninterested but she took your gift anyways

- At first she was debating whether to burn it or just rip it apart (poor reader)

- surprisingly she did none of the above when she saw the title which is 'Siblings Love'

- She decided to give it a chance so she read it

- Daki didn't even noticed how much time passed by when she was reading the book you gifted her

- At first, daki seems confused to why she was suddenly feeling crying

- It's as if there's something in her head that she couldn't describe

- As expected, she called gyutaro just because of unexplained feelings

- After departing from daki's body, He quickly patted his sister's head

- "Why are you crying..your face is too beautiful to cry.."

- "Listen brother, This book...it made me feel something unexplainable.. I don't know just read it"

- Gyutaro raised an eyebrow at his younger sister as he started reading the book that his sister gave to him

- An hour past by and He finally figured out why daki's crying about the book

- it made him tear up a little too

- "Whoever wrote this surely knows how to get to my beautiful little sister's feelings eh?"

- Starting from that day, daki won't admit it but she did love your writing as much as gyutaro does

- Daki insulted your skills in writing and told you to make more better books She only insults you just so you could keep making more

- of course you thought that daki didn't really liked your creations until she said something surprising

- "I like the books you made..but just a bit! So don't get too full of yourself."

- That's where you understand that daki is just indenial

#demon slayer #fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #hantengu #demon slayer akaza #akaza headcanons #lord douma #kny douma #douma x reader #douma #kokushibo #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu tsugikuni #kny michikatsu #gyokko #gyutaro #kimetsu no yaiba daki #kny daki #demon slayer headcanons #upper moons #uppermoonkoku

[matchalovertrait]

Ángel's birthday party with a theme of primary colors.

For their little artist-in-the-making ♡ Erick brought over empty paint cans from his construction job to use as balloon weights. He also painted a surprisingly good portrait of Ángel! The guests are all going to be very surprised at Erick's hidden talent. They know he also has an artistic side to him, but they all think those skills are only used for woodworking.

Noemí and Erick also bought paintbrushes to use as the table centerpieces, but of course, they will be given to Ángel right after to use for his own art. Nothing goes to waste here.

#angel alegria #alegria legacy #tjolc #sims 4 #tjolc gen 1 #tjol challenge #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr #sims #sims 4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #the joy of life legacy #joy of life legacy #joy of life challenge #igd #matchalovertrait

[hypnoneghoul]

Cosmic Love

WC: 1,3k

Relationship: Swiss & Mountain

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Song Fic, Really Deep Love, Poetic Fic (I hope at least because that was the plan)

“You’re everything, sweetheart,” Swiss says and even though Mountain is asleep, the corners of his lips curl upwards slightly. “You’re everything, darling,” Mountain says and even though Swiss is already grinning, his smile seems to grow and brighten.

Notes: This is kinda special, I took this and made it bigger and better and deeper. Also this is dedicated to @arkeusruin because you don't even know how important your words on friday were. Thank you, you're awesome <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

To Swiss, Mountain is the prettiest creature that has ever been called up from the Pit. A deity, truly. 

“You are so beautiful it's hard to believe you’re real sometimes, my love,” Swiss whispers to him, laying on his side and watching, adoring, loving. “Especially in moments like these.”

He is sprawled out in their nest, wrapped in soft sage sheets and bathed in sunlight coming in from the window. His hair is down, the loose amber strands spilling down his shoulder and chest in a way that looks as if Lucifer himself had gently laid each individual silky wave in this perfect composition.

His face is fully relaxed, a thing so rare Swiss' heart hurts whenever he is rewarded with getting to see Mountain like this. His eyelashes kiss his pink-tinged and freckle-adorned cheeks and his plush lips are slightly parted. The multi ghoul could swear it is an invitation to slot his own against them.

His whole lean body lies limply, but not disorderly—long limbs arranged in a careful, yet unconscious, way. It is just asking to be painted, to be preserved. Such beauty can not be wasted.

Swiss would, if he only had the skill. He would never dare to try, would not risk the desecration of portraying Mountain as less than he really is.

“You’re everything, sweetheart,” the multi ghoul says and even though Mountain is asleep, the corners of his lips curl upwards slightly. Knowing, understanding.

Mountain is to be worshiped and that is something Swiss can do. That is something he does, and will never stop. In any way he would desire, Swiss will worship him. Will pray to him for the gift of it.

He smiles softly and sighs. Words come to his mind and while there is not enough in any language known to man or demon to describe the love he has for Mountain, there is one thing that feels close.

And so Swiss starts to sing quietly.

I'd rather take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

He will sing more and he will wish he had more to give, but for now, Mountain sleeps.

And Swiss watches.

Swiss could cry with love when Mountain wakes. He stretches, as if showing off his perfect body first thing in the morning, and there is a deep rumble coming from within him. Content to be waking, ready to face another day with his mate by his side.

The multi ghoul ends the feast for his eyes and moves closer, truly gluing himself to Mountain’s side. He breathes in his scent—the smell of the first days of summer—and a pleased trill leaves his lips, “Good morning, my love.”

The earth ghoul does not reply, only his purring increases in volume. Swiss understands.

He wraps his hands around Mountain and squeezes him as if he could pull him into his own body and keep him there, safe and sound.

“Wanna stay in here for a bit longer?” Swiss asks and his mate nods gently, rubbing his face against the multi ghoul’s chest. He smiles and settles, letting his eyes slip shut again.

It is soft and warm and just perfect and it is one of those moments that the both of them wish could last forever. Mountain stays awake. It is most likely Swiss who dozes off again, but his mate does not mind.

The silence is comfortable around them and the earth ghoul does not feel the need to fill it. When he starts to sing, it is an expression.

I will leave you notes

Under your door

Under the singing moon

Near the place where your feet pass

Hidden in the holes of wintertime

And when you're alone for a moment...

Kiss me

Whenever you want

Mountain could cry with love as he watches Swiss cook. It is nearly like a dance, the way he moves along the counter, grabbing this and that to make a delicious meal for his mate and the rest of their pack. He is purring—most likely unconsciously—content to pour his feelings out into something physical, something to share.

The earth ghoul sits on the edge of the counter as he sips his tea, feasting his eyes on his mate over the rim of his mug. He chirps when Swiss moves closer to him and steps between his legs to press a kiss to his freckled nose. “What’s that for, my heart?”

The multi ghoul does not reply, only his purring increases in volume. Mountain understands.

He sets his tea down before wrapping his hands around Swiss. He squeezes him as if he could pull him into his own body and keep him there, safe and sound.

“Want to take a break from all the cooking?” Mountain asks, but his mate shakes his head gently, rubbing his nose against the earth ghoul’s shoulder. He smiles and nods, letting him go so he can continue.

It is soft and warm and just perfect and it is one of those moments that the both of them wish could last forever. Mountain stays seated on the counter, watching.

The silence is comfortable around them and neither of them feels the need to fill it. Swiss turns on his music quietly, anyway, but Mountain does not mind. When he starts to sing, it is an expression.

You keep me all together

You take me out whenever I'm lettin' down

You got the motions baby

I got a notion maybe I'll stick around

Because, oh

I can never doubt you for too long

I can't see no reason

You're my kinda lover

To Mountain, Swiss is the prettiest creature that has ever been called up from the Pit. A deity, truly.

“You are so beautiful it's hard to believe you’re real sometimes, my heart,” Mountain whispers to him and his chest squeezes painfully as Swiss smiles. “Especially in moments like these.”

His arms are wrapped all around the one he calls his love. He is smiling as they dance. His hair is down and the night-colored locks jump with his movements, as fluid as the rest of him.

His face is glowing, tawny brown skin shimmering in artificial light not holding a candle to his own shine. His smile is so bright that it could resurrect a dead star and it is framed by plush lips simply begging to be kissed swollen. The whole picture is adorned by two molten drops of gold that Mountain would gladly drown and melt himself in.

Swiss’ whole body—muscled, yet soft around the edges—moves smoothly like water, his hips swaying. It is just asking to be painted in his movement, to be preserved. Such beauty can not be wasted.

Mountain would, if he only had the skill. He would never dare to try, would not risk the desecration of portraying Swiss as less than he really is.

“You’re everything, darling,” the earth ghoul says and even though Swiss is already grinning—oh, so widely—his smile seems to grow and brighten even more. Grateful, appreciating.

Swiss is to be begged for his blessings and that is something Mountain can do. That is something he does, and will never stop. For anything he would offer, Mountain will beg and pray. Will worship him.

He smiles softly and sighs. He regrets not being as good with his words as he would wish to be, but those already resonating through the room feel appropriate.

And so Mountain starts to sing quietly.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

He will sing more and he will wish he had more to give, but for now, they dance.

And Mountain watches.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #hypnone writes #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps