Brain worms got to me. Enjoy this short, could be something idk
Heavy breathing is all that you hear along with the cries of a young boy, racing you find yourself in a snowy clearing where you see a young boy with dark aubern hair, shielding a young girl behind him from the man in front wielding a blade.
On closer inspection you recognize him as one of your fellow hashira.
You stay quiet as you watch closely, gaining interest as you see the girl bare her fangs towards Giyuu, the water hashira.
âWell that answers the question why Giyuu is here.â
You watch as the boy pleads for Giyuu to spare her, claiming sheâs never hurt anyone and never would.
A scuffle ensues as you watch as Giyuu grabs the young girl, what grabs your interest is when the boy throws a hatchet at him.
Giyuu dodges it as he turns to attack the boy only for the young demon to run at the boy, you prepare to run in and slay her only for you to stop in your tracks as she protects the boy.
This may prove to be a very interesting series of events.
Synopsis: You were nothing more than a quiet presence in the newsroom, invisible compared to Lois Laneâs light. Everyone knew Clark Kentâs heart seemed to belong to her, and you had accepted it. But when your distance from him grows sharper, Clark begins to wonder if you truly dislike him.
Warnings: angst, unrequited love (or so it seems), low self-esteem, reader insecurity, subtle workplace tension
WC: 4,700 words approx.
ââââ ââŚââŚâ ââââ
Martyrdom. That was the closest word to what you felt every time you caught yourself staring at Clark for more than six seconds. Martyrdom when you noticed your smile escaping in meetings just by hearing his voice. Martyrdom when the accidental brush of his hand while handing you a document became your favorite memory of the week.
And yet, to him, you were nothing more than a coworker. A discreet presence in the newsroom, someone who sat next to Jimmy Olsen and who rarely raised her voice.
Jimmy, the bastard who had managed to pry the confession out of you. âTell me if you really like Clark and Iâll stop bothering you,â he told you one afternoon. And you did. You told him in a nervous whisper. But of course, he didnât keep his promise: he turned it into his excuse to tease you every chance he got. He wasnât mean-spirited, you knew that. Jimmy needed a friend, and since Lois never tolerated his jokes, you ended up being the one to carry his nonsense.
The worst part was you didnât need anyone to tell you: the entire office knew Clark Kent was crazy about Lois Lane.
A coffee on her desk in the morning.
A notebook Lois lost, Clark always found it.
A late-night meeting, Clark walked her home.
He was always there for her.
And you knew it: Lois was better at everything. She didnât hesitate. She didnât torment herself with insecurities. She turned in her articles with the confidence of someone who knew her writing was perfect. You, on the other hand, overthought even the most insignificant comma. Lois could wear a tight skirt or pants that highlighted her curves without batting an eye; you, however, spent minutes in front of the mirror deciding which outfit hid your thighs better, only to end up putting on the first thing you found. Genetic curse, you told yourself, as your reflection gave you back a resigned grimace.
âClark, Clark, please, bring me a coffee,â Jimmy said, imitating your voice in a high-pitched tone.
You frowned, shoving his shoulder as you passed.
âShut up, Jimmy.â
He raised his hands in feigned innocence, the mocking smile still on his lips.
âAlright, alright⌠just kidding.â Deep down you knew he didnât mean harm, he just wanted to get a reaction out of you.
The humor evaporated as soon as you crossed the doors of the Daily Planet. A single glance was enough to ruin your day. Clark was there, early for the first time that week, walking beside Lois. He was carrying a box in his arms with big letters that read LOIS LANE.
You lowered your gaze and stopped.
âShould we wait until they go up?â you asked in a faint voice.
Jimmy nodded, though Lois quickly spotted you both behind her.
âArenât you coming?â Lois asked, her tone always energetic and bright.
You forced a smile as you glanced sideways at Jimmy.
âOf course, we were just saying you two seem to live in your own world,â Jimmy said boldly.
You walked ahead, placing yourself behind Lois while Jimmy walked beside Clark. You saw him talk to him like nothing, exchanging words about some pending article. Clark smiled, but not at you, never at you. His eyes followed Lois, bright, attentive, almost devoted.
You looked away. You were already used to it. In a place full of brilliant, loud, and confident people, it was only natural that you were invisible.
âYou should come,â Lois said enthusiastically. âI was just telling Clark we should organize a get-together, right?â
Clark nodded, with that warm smile that seemed made only for her.
âYes, sounds good.â
And you, once again, felt something inside you shrink, as if your place in that story was nothing more than that of a silent spectator.
âWhy donât you come?â Lois asked, with that impossible-to-match energy.
âHow could I hate her?â you thought silently, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Lois was like a rosebud: bright, attentive, impossible to ignore. Maybe she saw you, but not as a friend, much less as a rival. Competition for Lois Lane? No one in the office could aspire to that.
âJust like Clark,â Lois went on, with a light laugh. âNeither of you ever goes out, so just this once?â
Jimmy looked at you amused, as if waiting for your answer, but your heart skipped a beat when you noticed Clark did too. His blue gaze settled on you for just an instant, and in that second you lost your breath. Lois, oblivious to the storm inside you, took your arm naturally and pulled you forward.
The space was minimal in that narrow elevator. Loisâs pull made you bump into Clark.
âSorryâŚâ you murmured, pulling away immediately, but Lois already had you hooked by the arm, dragging you with the confidence of someone who always takes control.
âSo, what do you say?â Lois insisted, smiling while Jimmy and Clark walked behind you two. âIn fact, Clark can come with you. Itâs decided: youâll be each otherâs watchdogs. You have to arrive together at the club. If one shows up alone, the other has to buy us donuts.â
âI donât thinkâŚâ you began to say, but another voice interrupted.
âSounds fair to me,â Clark said, and when you looked at him you discovered he wasnât looking at you. His eyes were fixed on Lois, as always.
You nodded silently, hiding your discomfort, and quickly settled at your desk, seeking refuge in work.
Jimmy leaned toward you, lowering his voice.
âYou shouldâve said no.â
You gave him a tired look.
âI donât know how to say no. And thatâs why youâre my friend, isnât it?â you replied with irony.
Jimmy smiled, like someone enjoying the confession he already expected.
âExactly. That, and because you make the office less boring.â
You frowned and started rummaging in your bag.
âIâm not going.â
Jimmy raised an eyebrow, surprised by the firmness in your tone.
âYou donât want to go with him?â he asked, almost amused.
âI donât want to go with him,â you repeated, this time louder than you intended. Luckily, Clark wasnât nearby to hear it⌠or at least thatâs what you thought. After all, no one in that office knew what Clark Kent really was.
You forced yourself to focus on your papers, on the notes that still needed finishing. Lois was the first to leave, with that light gait that made everyone turn to look at her. You sent a couple of documents to print and tried to fake normalcy.
âIâm leaving,â Jimmy said, stretching in his chair and giving you a conspiratorial look. âSo?â
You lifted your eyes sarcastically.
âSo, have a wonderful night. And if you hook up with someone, donât give them my number pretending itâs yours or Iâll expose you.â
Jimmy burst out laughing, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
âGoodbye, my kind friend who makes my life lighter.â
You rolled your eyes, though a small smile escaped your lips.
âYeah, yeahâŚâ you murmured, turning your eyes back to your desk.
The noise of the office gradually faded, until you were almost alone.
You massaged your temples while the printer did its job. When the copies were finally ready, you approached, pulled out the papers, and checked them one by one. You had already been at the Daily Planet for a few months, and although you were starting to get used to it, you were still extremely careful: you didnât let a single detail slip by. You read your article for the fourth time, making sure the quotes were in order and the words were clear.
You took even longer programming the automatic send for Perry. You calmly placed the copies in a folder and, as always, locked the bottom drawer of your desk. Only when you finished all that did you allow yourself to sigh and walk toward the window.
From there, the city looked illuminated, with thousands of lights twinkling like stars within reach. You smiled with a trace of sadness. âLois must be so lucky,â you thought. Lucky that someone like Clark acted as if she were the center of everything.
If only someday someone looked at you that way⌠but no. You were destined to watch from afar. Lois did deserve that attention; you only deserved to see.
A scream escaped your mouth when you bumped into a solid chest. You stepped back suddenly and stumbled against the piece of furniture behind you. Your hand clutched your own chest, feeling your heart racing. It wasnât because of Clark, the man who already had your head spinning, but because he had truly startled you. Lately, everyone had been talking about ghosts and apparitions in the building for Halloween, and your mind played against you.
âSorry, sorry, Iâm sorry,â Clark hurried to say, raising his hands as if surrendering. He wanted to approach you, but hesitated, nervous.
âNo problem,â you answered once you could breathe better, frowning. âI thought no one was left.â
Clark nodded seriously.
âI went out for some air. I saw you very focusedâŚâ he murmured, then added simply, âI was waiting so we could leave.â
Your stomach twisted.
âLeave?â you asked, uncomfortable with the closeness.
âWith Lois and Jimmy,â he said, as if it were obvious.
âAhâŚâ You stepped away and looked for your things on the desk. âGo ahead, Clark. You can go. I have work.â
He followed you, clumsy but insistent.
âBut⌠youâre paying for the coffees,â he said, reminding you of the bet.
âI will,â you replied dryly, heading toward the elevator.
âItâs just that Lois saidââ
You frowned, tired, and looked straight at him.
âThen go.â The phrase came out stronger than you intended.
Clark stopped, surprised, and so did you. Silence weighed heavily between you. âWhat had I just done?â you thought with immediate guilt. How could you speak that way to the kindest man you knew? You were treating him the way so many people treated you.
You lowered your voice, nervous.
âSorry⌠I have things to do, Clark. But Iâm sure Lois will be happy to see you,â you added, trying to sound kind, like an improvised patch over your rudeness.
You approached the elevator, pressing the button. Just as the doors were about to close, Clark rushed in, almost stumbling against the frame. He settled beside you in silence.
The closeness was suffocating. You felt his height, the faint brush of his shoulder against yours, his restrained breathing. You glanced at him for a second, then quickly looked away.
The elevator descended slowly, the mechanical hum the only thing breaking the silence. The space felt smaller than usual, almost stifling. Clark remained beside you, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the metal doors that vaguely reflected both your silhouettes.
Suddenly, his voice broke the calm.
âDo you dislike me?â he asked abruptly, without preamble.
You looked at him in surprise, still frowning.
Clark was kind; he always had been. He greeted everyone, smiled even on the hardest days. He did the same with you, although many times that smile disappeared as soon as Lois called him from the other side of the room. And you understood, of course you did⌠but it hurt.
The worst part was that Clark had heard. His super-hearing had perfectly caught what you said to Jimmy: âI donât want to leave with him.â Words you never intended for him to hear, but that now were lodged in his chest. Since then, he kept mentally replaying everything he remembered about you: your short smiles, the way you avoided sharing the elevator with him, how you veered toward another coffee machine if you saw him there, how you frowned whenever he approached Jimmyâs desk⌠or Loisâs.
âWhat?â The word came out almost like a reproach.
Clark blinked nervously. His lips moved for a second before he found a response.
âWell⌠itâs justâŚâ He scratched the back of his neck, nervous, unsure how to explain it. How could he tell you he had overheard? âI just⌠have the feeling that⌠you donât like me. And I donât know if I did something to make you think badly of me.â
The air seemed to thicken in the small space. You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to your intertwined hands.
âYou didnât do anything,â you admitted with a hint of embarrassment. âReally. Itâs just that⌠Iâm not the kind of person who talks much. Iâm like this with everyone, not just with you.â
Clark tilted his head, insistent, with that genuine concern that always accompanied him.
âAre you sure?â he asked softly. âThen why donât you want to go? Lois insisted a lot.â
You looked at him incredulously.
âShe only insisted twice.â Your reply sounded harsher than you intended, curt.
Clark blinked, surprised, then let out a nervous laugh.
âLois can be intimidating sometimes, but you should try talking to her. If we stick together more⌠you wouldnât feel so alone.â
You looked at him directly, hurt by his words.
âIsnât that what you want to tell yourself?â you asked in a serious tone that silenced him immediately.
He opened his mouth but said nothing. Because it wasnât a lie. Clark spoke of unity, of getting closer, but with you, he had never truly tried. You were forced to listen to him talk about Lois, to watch him turn toward her when she entered the office, how he accompanied her, how he seemed to revolve around her. And you⌠you were only the shadow no one noticed.
âI donât need your help to feel alone or not, Clark,â you finally said, with a knot in your throat. âYour world revolves around Lois. Mine doesnât.â
Your words struck sharply. Clark looked at you as if trying to decipher what you really meant.
âI didnât mean it like that,â he stammered, blushing, pressing his lips clumsily. âI just⌠I mean⌠if you could open up a little more, like she does, maybe⌠maybe youâd like me better.â
Fury coursed through you.
âYou donât have to like the same people Lois likes.â Your voice came out tense, almost trembling from the mix of anger and sadness. âAnd you donât have to try to make me like you either. So, Kent, youâd better mind your own business.â
The âKentâ sounded cold, distant, like a wall raised between you.
At that very moment, the elevator doors opened with a metallic ding. You stepped out without looking at him, walking firmly, though inside you felt like you were breaking.
Clark didnât move right away. He stayed there, in the elevator, watching you leave with eyes full of confusion and something you couldnât decipher.
But you already had it clear: you would never be like Lois. And even if you were, he would never look at you the way you looked at him.
The next morning, you took the stairs instead of the elevator. The box of donuts in your arms weighed more than it should, not because of its contents, but because of what it represented. You left them on Jimmyâs desk with a short note: âShare them.â Done. You had fulfilled the agreement, without spark, without games, without that unconscious habit of looking at the elevator with the illusion of running into Clark just to give him a smile. That illusion no longer existed. You had understood that he wasnât looking for your smile. His eyes were always on the woman who seemed to light up the entire office: Lois.
And no, there was nothing against her. You didnât hate her. You simply accepted that there were things that didnât belong to you, and you preferred to leave in peace what would never be yours.
When you had to address Clark, you did it through Jimmy. A short message, a little note, a âyou tell him.â Jimmy noticed, but didnât pressure you too much. After all, Clark himself had spoken to him after not seeing you at the club the night before. He had noticed everything: your dark circles, your tired eyes, that way of dodging any attempt at closeness.
âBad day,â Jimmy whispered when he saw you sit down, jacket over your shoulders like a shield.
âNo,â you replied dryly, grabbing your article and heading straight to Perryâs office.
The boss reviewed it, gave his approval to publish it, and you walked out with firm, almost automatic steps. But when you returned to your desk, the first thing you saw was a cup of coffee at the edge. On top, a folded note: decaf, with milk and sugar. Your lips twisted when you recognized the initials: C.K.
There wasnât even surprise. Not even illusion. You interpreted it as pity. Clark must have thought that with a coffee he could ease the distance you had imposed.
You sighed, stayed silent, and focused on sending your article to be published.
âUgh, everythingâs upside down,â Cat said, dragging her chair until she stopped next to you. âAny gossip?â she asked with a playful smile.
âNone,â you managed to say before Jimmy cut in.
âOnly the bitter shadow of loneliness,â he joked, pointing at you with a theatrical gesture.
Lois turned toward you all and gave you a kind smile, as if sharing in the game. Clark, on the other hand, glanced sideways, his eyes lingering on the untouched cup of coffee in front of you.
âI have to check out two new restaurants opening next week,â you announced, writing down the address Perry had sent you. You looked up at Jimmy. âComing, gossip Olsen?â
âOf course,â he replied, gathering his things.
You stood up, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Cat, seeing the cup, pointed at it with pleading eyes.
âThat coffeeâs full and I forgot mine⌠can I take it?â
You didnât look at her directly, you just drew a light smile.
âI had no intention of drinking it. Go ahead, enjoy it.â
Cat happily took the cup and left, skipping with joy. Jimmy took the chance to say goodbye to Lois with an exaggerated gesture. You only raised your hand in a brief, quick goodbye.
It was in that moment, as you walked past Clark, that you felt it. His gaze. It wasnât the first time he looked at you sideways, but you pretended not to notice. You opened the notebook, searched for the address with all the attention possible, as if reading a written line was more urgent than exchanging a word with him.
âReady?â Jimmy asked, adjusting the camera hanging from his shoulder.
âReady,â you replied, and together you headed toward the exit.
Clark pressed his lips together, unmoving from his chair. You didnât know that he had stayed silent, with that pang in his chest, wondering why not even a coffee could cross the barrier you had built between the two of you.
ââââ ââŚââŚâ ââââ
This work is mine. Copying or translating this fic is strictly prohibited. Any issue must be notified directly to me. Thank you.
đ If youâd like me to tag you in the next part, comment below or let me know in private!
This series is all about your life as the wife of John Price and a pilot for the British military, each part will be about something new, and you will not need to read each part in order but it is highly recommended. The series isnât based at any point of time in the COD universe but scenes and characters from COD will be mentioned in certain parts, the main characters will be you (y/f/n) âButterflyâ Price and John Price with the main secondary characters being Simon âGhostâ Riley, John âSoapâ MacTavish and Kyle âGazâ Garrick.
Key Information
Youâre a British pilot in the RAF
Your call sign and nickname are Butterfly because you have a butterfly tattoo on your back
She/her pronouns
Married to Price for 5 years at the time of the first part
You are younger than Price (age gap) (unknown number of years)
Parts released once a month
Twelve-part series
Your aesthetic
Part one- Mrs Price?
John Price x wife reader part one
Imagine being John Priceâs wife.
This series is all about your life as the wife of John Price and a pilo
Part two- All You Need Is Love (Out on 14th February)
Some general info for anyone writing Alejandro and Rodolfo that no one asked for
(from your favorite mexican ofc)
â¨swearing and slangsâ¨
We can hear them throughout the entire game! For example
âA la verga.â This particular swear word, although it is widely used, itâs not something you say around adults or your family. Itâs a really, and I cannot stress this enough, bad word! You use it with your friends (mostly men) which is on spot in the gameđđť
âA huevo.â We love this one, a somewhat neutral and not-so- bad expression to show excitement or agreement! I totally didnât giggle like an idiot when Ghost said it.
Still donât wanna use it in front of your grandmother, trust me!
â¨culture, traditions, & moreâ¨
â˘Mexicans LOVE their families, trust me if you ask alejandro or rudy about them youâll melt their hearts, and hey⌠mothers are sacred!
â˘A highly religious country! donât be surprised if you find holy images, altars and religious art on the streets! Itâs a nice touch if you want to describe their surroundings while taking a walk on the street!
side note! Itâs SUPER common to see rosaries hanging from the rear view mirrors in the cars! these two probably have one in their vehicles.đ
â˘day of the dead (dĂa de muertos): death, we celebrate it. Ask these boys about their beloved ones that already passed away and theyâll most likely tell you about them with a smile on their faces! The whole country is a sight to be hold during this timeđź
â˘Magic towns (pueblos mĂĄgicos)đŞ : Just imagine visiting one of them with Alejandro and Rodolfo! Colorful Streets filled with vendors and all sorts of indigenous art, clothing and candies!
Donât even get me started with the food! Youâll definitely gain some weight with all the food youâd eat!đđťđŽâđ¨
â˘Cartels: yes I had to, no, I donât like it! The game is pretty accurate, violence is a big problem but heeey glad youâre here to help us fight right??đ
â¨Pet namesâ¨
Some of my favorites (feel free to use them!)
CariĂąo - Honey
*Nena/Nene - Babe
Amor - Love
*Princesa/Principe - Princess /Prince
*spanish and its gendered forms. You knowâŚ
Hope this was helpful! Might do more, we shall seeđđť
requesting simon x reader and something soft? 𼺠maybe a bit naughty like the kĂśnig snippet (or more). please and thank you â¤
Hello! Thank you for the request!
I'd love to write something for you with Simon, especially if it's soft! For this snippet, you are somewhere early in your relationship, hence why Simon is still sort of... awkward. I imagine him very much like đ§ââď¸. Slight NFSW as requested.
đđđđ§đđđ đđđđđŤ & đđ¤đ˘đĽđĽđđŽđĽ đđđ§đđŹ.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
Summary: You've convinced your boyfriend to let you spoil him with a warm bath. You are very good with your hands, as he comes to find.
Keywords: Established relationshipâearly days, romantic fluff, bath scene, you give him a handjob so slight smut warning!
Wordcount: 1205
He is almost afraid to count them all. All the dates he had to cancel. Cold feet or sudden deployment, it doesnât matter because he feels guilty all the same. One time, he cancelled over text, and he feels bloody stupid thinking back on it now. He felt even stupider back then.Â
Thatâs why he still has a hard time believing heâs not dreaming right now.
Simonâs standing outside the bathroom as you draw a bath. A bath for him. He looks out of place in your bedroom. Motionless as he awaits your return; awaits your permission to enter the bathroom. He didnât know it took this much time to prepare a bath, much less one in a tub. Arenât you just supposed to fill the thing with water? Instead, he hears bottles and cabinet doors being opened and closed; he hears your pleasant humming echoed on the tiled walls.Â
You, however, give Simon no further time to doubt himself (or your methods) when you reappear in front of him, leading him by the hand into the bathroom. You reassure him that this is the âbest bath ever drawnâ, and youâve drawn many in your lifetime, so you would know. And he scoffs with faint amusement as you bump your hip against his.
There you stand, hand in hand, in front of a filled tub. Warm water dressed with a tasteful amount of scented bubbles. âFilled to perfectionâ, as you promised. You peer at your boyfriend to gauge his reaction, and you canât help but smile at the slight furrow of his brows. Heâs not sure what to do.Â
You pivot to face him, a comforting hand coming up to cup his cheek. Your thumb gently caressing his face. The âlet me take care of youâ goes unspoken, but he understands, and allows you to help him out of his shirt and boxers. You press butterfly kisses to every inch of his skin as it's exposed to the warm air, and youâre rewarded with a faint rumble of approval from deep within his chest.Â
You wordlessly help lower him into the tub.
Itâs spacious and spotlessly clean, filled with warm water and a scented soap that uniquely reminds him of you. He finds it lavish and all too luxurious for someone like himâsomeone who takes 3-minute cold showers; someone who cancelled over text. Someone like Simon.Â
You settle behind the tub, wetting your hands in the water before they come to knead the nape of his neck with practised hands. Weary muscles softening with each press of your deft fingers. Slowly, but surely, you feel his body unwind beneath your palms. Your thumbs ghosting over the many scarsâold and newâthat adorn his body. He looks beautiful despite it all.Â
Simon feels guilty for enjoying it. For having your attention.Â
He shuts his eyes and lets out a small sigh when you cup water in your hands to massage it into his scalp. By the time his hair is soaked and you start working in the shampoo, he can hardly tell the difference between the warm water and your hands, relaxed as he is. The circular motion of the pads of your fingertips feel like heaven to him, and he feels it all the way to the base of his skull. A numbing, but pleasant, sensation.
âYouâre behaving awfully well,â you tease, carefully pouring water onto his hair to wash out the soapy suds. âNot such a bad thing being spoiled now, is it?â He deserves good things, you think. And you've told him as much.
Simon notes the care in which you ensure no water nor soap gets into his eyes.Â
âDonât push it,â he mumbles with half-hearted grouchiness, sounding as if he could doze off any second. He feels your laughter reverberating behind him. You are a haven he never knew he needed, a place of comfort and warmth... and scented baths, apparently.
You procure a prepared washcloth, wetting it before you begin to methodically rub his body. The broad expanse of his backâhis torsoâdown to his waist. You wash his muscular thighs and impressive calves. Youâre taking your time exploring your boyfriend's body, and all the reactions you manage to lure from him. The firm caress does wonders to his aching muscles, and the texture of the cloth is soon replaced with your skillful fingers; massaging your way back up until you, once more, settle behind him. Â
You pick up the washcloth again and slowly slide it down towards his abdomen. Your hands float beneath the water, caressing his waist, his stomach, and his ribs, before he feels the cloth settle against the inside of his thigh. He hears you swallow a breath. Â
âSimon?â you ask, pressing a kiss to the junction between his neck and shoulder.Â
He could die a happy man, if the last thing he would hear was his name from your lips.Â
His kiss is hot, wet, and entirely possessive. He sieves a breath through his teeth as the cloth rubs gently against and around his most sensitive parts. Youâre nothing if not thorough. Your mind slowly unravels as you lazily make out with Simon, and soon the washcloth is left floating in the tub as you rest a hand on his chest, slowly travelling downwards to rest beneath his navel.Â
âSimon?â you ask again, your voice quieter and even more inviting than before.Â
âFuck, yes,â he all but moans as his head tilts back to rest against your, now wet, shoulder.
With his assent, your hand roams downwards to the base of his length. He feels hot and heavy in your palm. You take a moment to simply hold him, marvelling at the sheer size of him. You feel him twitch, see his Adamâs apple bob, and slowly you wrap your fingers around his cock.Â
You tug him to full hardness, occasionally slipping lower to caress his balls. You pause to simply hold him in your hand again, teasingly thumbing the slit before jerking him off again, faster and faster.
Heat and yearning pools in the pit of his stomach and leaves him light-headed. Shallow breaths merging with the hot steam of the water that surrounds you. âThatâs it,â he moans with encouragement, his voice controlled but consumed by want. By need. And the sound is hoarse and delicious to your ears.Â
You feel it, his impatience, his need for release, because he bucks into your hand, and you answer every one of his thrusts with a rhythmic, blissful stroking. You bite your lip as he tugs a fistful of your hair. Droplets of water wetting your skin.Â
He eventually comes with a curse, sloshing water around as he faintly arch.
Flush-faced, you wordlessly pull the stopper to let the water drain out along with the evidence of his pleasure.
Simon lays in the tub, breathless, and with his head tilted back as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. His nude body in full display, no longer hidden beneath shallow water.Â
He grabs your wrist.
âWeâre not done quite yet, sweetheart.âÂ
You feel a shiver run down your spine at his suggestive tone. So what else is there to do but peel off your clothes to join him?
Synopsis: The flowers came every week â Tuesday, two Oâclock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they werenât coming from John.
Word Count: 17.5k
Warnings: Stalking, violence, intense gore, blood, abduction, angst, fluff, protective!John, not quite smut, swearing, stereotypical âBad Guyâ character who gets his ass beat, minor character death
A/N: Finished this at 3am so forgive the absolute deterioration of the plot near the end.
ŕ§ â§âË Â â synopsis: diluc may already be a father but heâs more than willing to be your daddy too.
ŕ§ â§âË Â â request: HIHI!! congrats on 1k!! could i get diluc+prompt 7+dilf!au?
ŕ§ â§âË Â â warnings: dilf!diluc, afab + fem reader, age gap, masturbation (f), vibrator, oral (f), fingering, piv, squirting, yes thereâs a daddy kink, all characters are of age, mentions of divorce, klee as dilucâs daughter bc i canât do ocs for shit, LONG AS HELL WHAT this writer is 17 at the time of posting
ŕ§ â§âË Â â a/n: dilf stands for diluc i love to fuck
youâd be the first to admit that your quaint apartment was far from glamorous.
it had leaky faucets that refused to be fixed despite the dozens of visits from your landlord and incredibly thin walls that made you privy to every conversation within a five mile radius. it certainly wasnât your first choice but its extremely low rent prices made it your best option. youâd simply have to adapt, attempting to make your living space seem more homely and cozy than it really was. and learn to ignore the creaky floorboards too, of course.
however, it seemed like living in a shitty apartment had its perks â or perk, to be more accurate. it came in the form of your new next door neighbor.
Note: Things spoken in dialogue that arenât Japanese will be in italics and thoughts will always be in italics.
Warnings: canon typical violence, gross descriptions of the scene, reader swearing, Eden watching to see if y'all survive.
Word Count: 1.3k
Demon Slayer x Reader; Female Reader.
All of you looked at the demon with terror. It was one thing to eat people, but to eat one group of people because of who their mentor was, that was truly awful and Tanjiro and you were beginning to boil with rage.
You look to Tanjiro and find him furrowing his brows and gritting his teeth, slowly you put your hand on his wrist lightly and keep it there for a couple seconds before slowly moving it back to your side and moving your wrists that the feathers you have hidden in your arm sleeves move to a looser position.
The demon continues with his boasting as you both continue to silently rage at the awful descriptions of what he did to the children that he unfairly sought out.
"Speaking of which, the ones that left me with the most impression was this pair of kids," the demon mutters out loud, "and of those two the kid with the rare hair color was the strongest."
'Sabito,' you thought to yourself sadly.
Tanjiro stood with a unreadable expression as the demon continued with his tangent.
"He had a head covered with pink hair and a scar on one of the corners of his mouth.â
Immediately a mental image of Sabito appeared in Tanjiroâs and yours minds. You could only get more and more upset as the demon looked proud of what he had done to them.
âThe other was a little girl wearing flower patterned clothing. Even though she was small and not very powerful, she was quick and light with her movements.â
âMakomo,â you and Tanjiro thought.
Tanjiro, however, looked perplexed as he remembered seeing them at Urokodakiâs home. They even trained him to be able to succeed in the first place!
The demon, seemingly not realizing the mounting anger within Tanjiro and the deathly calm surrounding you, despite you being very angry.
âThat fox mask is a mark. I remember the style Urokodaki uses when carving the masks. The tengu mask he wears is carved the same way.â
Tanjiro clenches his blade a little tighter at that, while you glare up to the demon through your hair. You send a quick glance to the boy behind you as he takes the hint and starts to slowly make his escape.
âItâs called a 'mask of disaster prevention' or something right? It was because they were wearing it, that they were eaten.â
Tanjiro shakes with anger as the demon proudly boasts of his murders.
âTheyâre all in my stomach. Itâs as if Urokodaki killed them himself.â
You grip your hilt as you seethe with rage as the demon laughs at how he killed your friends.
âHow dare you laugh at the pain youâve caused!â You shout, âyouâve ended innocent lives! Just because of a mask?â
The demon merely continues to laugh as he continues.
âWhen I said these words, that little girl was so angry, she had tears shining at the corners of her eyes.â
He continues laughing, his hands covering his mouth as he laughs with unfiltered glee., his gaze soon shifts to you.
"Much like there are tears in yours."
Looks of hatred filled your faces. as the demon continued on describing how he dismembered the poor girl. The second he finished his awful boasting, Tanjiro dashed forward and cut and slashed the hands that came to him as he neared the demon.
You jumped back as a hand came near you and ran. jumping from tree to tree to try and evade the hands that continued to come towards you.
"Tanjiro! Don't think about what happened to them! Do you really want their deaths to lead to your own? Live for them!"
You shouted, rearing your hand back and throwing it forward as some of Eden's feathers flew into the demons arm and caused it disintegrate. Tanjiro was momentarily stunned by your words. Getting smacked by the demon and into a tree, rendering him semi-unconscious, you dashed and rolled forward cutting the arms of the demon that got too close to him.
The boy that you both had been protecting runs away, seeing his chance with both of you being occupied. You continue to fight off some hands as Tanjiro slowly stirs awake, his brother yelling for him to wake and fight spurring his alertness.
He wakes just as you look at him, getting momentarily distracted and end up getting smacked into a tree. This sends you into a daze as you skid on your side from the attack, your leg getting scratched up. Tanjiro uses this as a chance to attack the demon and deter it away from you.
He finds himself in a difficult position as you are too delirious to help and finds it difficult to fight this demon as his hands just keep growing back. He notices a strong scent from the ground and jumps just in time to avoid an attack from multiple hands.
The demon takes this chance to send a straightforward attack to Tanjiro, which he deflects with a hit to the hand from his forehead. This leaves the demon defenseless, but confident Tanjiro can't kill him.
Elsewhere in the forest next to Urokodaki's home, two spirit's converse.
"So, Tanjiro and (Y/N) are going to lose after all? Its head is really tough," the youngest of the spirits says with disappointment and sadness in her tone.
The older spirit, sitting on the stone Tanjiro split doesn't respond at first. Seemingly contemplating his response before saying, "Might lose, might win. But there is only one truth right here in front of us, and that is."
He places his palm flat on the split stone, "Tanjiro is the only man that was able to slice open the toughest and hardest rock thus far and that girl..."
Back with Tanjiro and his fight with the hand demon, he yells as he unleashes the First Style: Water Surface Slice, slicing the demons head clean off.
The demon couldn't react as a memory came to him of a time long past of when he first encountered Urokodaki and that style of breathing. At this moment Tanjiro runs to your side to wake you and help you with your injuries while the demon stares on as he helps you up.
"Are you alright?"
Worry etched on his face as you wince at the scratches on your leg that weren't protected by your socks.
"Just a scratch, Tanjiro, I'll be fine."
Youdirect your attention to the deteriorating demon with sad eyes, Tanjiro following you. Even if the demon has killed many other slayers and humans, it is still sad that he was manipulated by Muzan and forced to live the rest of his semi-immortal life locked up here after being caught by Urokodaki. You couldn't imagine how sad he was when first turned, to then turn to this monster with no empathy.
'Why do you have that expression on your faces?'
The demon stares at you both with tears in his eyes, not used to being shown compassion at this point in his long, long life. Especially from demon slayers.
With you now a little patched up, both you and Tanjiro move closer to the demon slowly turning to ash and blowing away with the turning of time. His hand slowly extends out as his mind cries with the memories of a brother he had long forgotten.
Tanjiro is the first to move as he grabs the demon's hand, you slowly make your way to the hand as well, and place one of Eden's feathers in it.
"May you live a better life and find your peace," you say as Tanjiro stares with a sad look on his face, making his own prayer for the demon.
The hand demon passes on, hand in hand with his brother. Hopefully onto a better life where he won't be plagued by the terrors that he faced in this one.
warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf intercourse, general sexual content) mentions of death, reader has deceased family so mentions of dead parents/siblings only briefly
a/n: sorry this is fucking LONG i dont even know why because there is hardly a plot but i tried. sorry but reader calls him master kenobi so thats hot? itâs fluff throughout tho bc CMONNNN ITS KENOBI HES SWEET AS. canât believe the show is ending tomorrow i am so sad. manifest another season! okay bye!!
Ë˰â˘*ââˇ
âYou came all this way for me?â You smile at your former classmate turned Jedi council member, and he is just as gorgeous as you remember him. âIâm honoured.â
âYou havenât changed a bit.â Obi-Wan Kenobi bows slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. It was protocol, now that you had taken your rightful place on the throne of your home planet, but with the history you shared with the man in front of you, you quickly brushed off the gesture and came towards him. Pulling him into you, your arms wrapped around his significantly large frame. The last time you saw him, he was a scrawny padawan training under Qui-Gon, and had that ridiculous braid down his face, but seeing him now, you hadnât realised how much you actually liked it.Â