I Just Realized That The Actor Of Luffy Was Juan In The Imperfects 👩‍🦯

me rn.

me looking in the mirror, gripping the sink: you’ll be okay eventually you silly little bitch

“I want you. Just you.”

Andrew!peter x Fem!Reader

Peter f!cked up.. badly. Y/n hates him for what he did, but she loves him too much to give up what they have.

¡Warnings!

- nothing much, but a bit of implied smut at the end.

He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared at the blank white walls of his bedroom. He checked the time, 11:05pm. It was late. He blinked slowly, his eyes dry and tired. He just couldn’t sleep. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. He contemplated calling her, his thumb hovered over the call button. Just as he was about to put his phone back down, her contact popped up on his screen. He smiled at the photo that came up. It was a picture of the both of them, she had given him a kiss on the cheek and peter had gone bright red. May had taken the photo, giggling at her nephew’s embarrassment.

“Y/n” he said just above a whisper. His voice was shaky with anxiety and tears welled in his eyes. “I know peter.” She responded, she sighed and frowned just a little bit. “I miss you.” he murmured, placing his phone up to his ear. y/n shook her head and held back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She sniffled and said, “Peter. I can’t do this right now-”

“Y/n i can’t live without you. I said that I’m sorry, isn’t that enough?” he asked, raising his voice a bit. He held his tongue and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just, I can’t do this alone.” His voice was shaky again. He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. It had grown a little longer and it began to curl at the ends a bit.

“You should have thought about that before you kissed Gwen.” she replied, she was tired. Tired of being second choice. First with Flash and now with Peter. She thought it’d be different this time, she swore it would be. But just as she expected, she got tossed to the side like she was worth nothing. “Y/n.”

“No peter. I cannot do this with you anymore. You made up your mind, you chose her. Now leave me alone.” She ended the call and sobbed into her pillow. “But I love you.” He admitted as the call ended. He threw his phone in anger, he had never been so mad at himself for anything in his life, except when Ben died. He swore he wouldn’t let her down, but he did. He had a good thing and he fucked it up. And now he was going to hate himself for this for the rest of his life.

Y/n cried hard. She missed him, of course she did. But she hated what he did to her. He kissed Gwen. He knew how insecure she made her feel, and he kissed her. It was always Gwen. Flash left y/n for Gwen, and Peter was doing the same. Why? What did Gwen have that she didn’t?

Peter looked out of his bedroom window, watching the stars in the sky. They twinkled like fairy lights, brightening the night sky with their innocence. He breathed a heavy sigh. He really fucked up this time. But he was more than determined to fix it. He put on his old, faded red converse and a black hoodie and opened a window. He looked down onto the city, watching how the cars sped past and the city lights twinkled like stars. “I’m coming y/n.” he whispered before letting himself fall out of the window, shooting a web onto a lamp post and swinging through the city.

Y/n laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her earphones blasting music into her ears. Every now and again, a tear fell from the corner of her eye; she made no effort to wipe them, she let them fall- hoping they’d eventually sweep her away like the ocean. Peter tapped on the glass of her window, he looked in and saw her laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. His heart broke, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Y/n.” he whispered. The guilt hit him like a bus, he almost felt like he was going to fall. He attempted to lift the window, but it stayed closed despite his efforts. She locked it.

“Y/n!” he spoke, he tried to get her attention, going as far as to throw small rocks at her window. She heard a faint tapping on her window and got up. She knew she shouldn’t, she knew he was there, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to see him again, even if it was to yell at him and tell him to leave her alone, she had to see him.

“Y/n unlock the window. Please.” he whimpered, the tears were almost uncontrollable. “What do you want Peter?” she sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes. He hopped through the window, putting his head in his hands in frustration.

“I.. I don’t-”

“Peter. If you can’t figure out what you want you need to leave. So what do you want?” she asked again, looking up at him. Their faces were so close. He looked at her lips, and back into her eyes. He swallowed hard. “I want..”

“You.”

She felt his hands on her face, his thumb stroked her cheek, and wiped away a stray tear. “I’m so sorry. I did something stupid and i hate myself for it, but i never meant to hurt you. That's not what i wanted, not now not ever. I want to be yours again. I don’t want her. I want you, just you.” By this point his face was in the crook of her neck, as he whispered these words to her. She wanted him. He’s all she needed. But he hurt her, and he hurt her badly.

“You really fucked up Peter.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“I- yeah I get it.”

“I love you. More than anything… but I need time.” he choked back a sob. He hated to hear it, but he knew he needed to, he had to listen to her and if that meant leaving her, then he would.

“I love you.” he cried into her shoulder, dampening the material of her pyjama top. They just stayed like that for a few moments, he didn’t want to leave. She was all he had, the only person who made him feel safe. With her, things were easy. He didn’t feel like breathing was a chore, living was easier, being Spider man was easier.

“I’ll wait for you.” he mumbled into her skin, kissing her exposed shoulder. He looked into her eyes, her cheeks were flushed, her cheeks stained with fresh tears.

“Before I leave, can I ask you something?” he said quietly.

“Mmhm.” she hummed, never breaking eye contact.

“Will you kiss me, just once before I go.” he chewed on his bottom lip, sniffling a little. He looked into her eyes, they sparkled innocently, he missed looking into her eyes, he could get lost in them for hours.

“Okay.”

"I love you." he said, kissing her on the lips, his kisses taste like cigarette smoke and candy. His hands planted themselves on her waist, rubbing slowly. Fuck. "Have you been smoking?." she whispered against his lips, her left hand on his cheek. He smiled sheepishly, nodding slightly.

“That’s hot.” She kissed him again. harder this time, their lips melting together. His taste was addictive, as was the way his hands went up and down her waist. he lifted her up, never breaking the kiss, his hands on her ass squeezing every now and then as he walked her to her bed, laying her down.

“One more thing.” he said against her lips. She looked dazed, her pupils dilated and her mouth open slightly. “Mmhm.”

“I think you know where this is going. Are you okay with that?” he asked, looking into her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

“I want you Peter Parker. Just you.”

“I’m here baby.”

im tired of pretending this isn’t attractive… IDGAF ANYMORE

Was nobody gon tell me Jacob scipio smokes???

He is mischief personified

iñaki godoy studied luffyology at the esteemed monkey d'university. he graduated top of his class. latin honors. he's on his way to get a phd. oops wait he's already got it. my god. the talent on this young man. he's got that natural troublemaker face. the class clown at the back of the class kind of energy. a kid who's hiding something in his hand. u take one glance at this guy and u know he's not up to no good. but would u follow him anyway? are u kidding me. look at him. of course u would.

#needthat.

Needy

One shot

sub Art Donaldson x dom reader - smut

This was so fun to write! I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think it genuinely means so much just getting one comment - also if you want to be tagged in all future Art x reader fics let me know <33

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“You can’t be serious.”

It was Art…again. Ever since you’d slept together he’d been knocking on your door more and more. The confusing thing was that his visits didn’t concern sex, he’d want help with things - little things like finding his phone or keys. When that got ridiculous to redo he started faking illnesses, some more convincing than others, asking you for medicines or bandages. Now here he was again, puppy dog eyes gazing at you - desperate for some glimmer of hope or affection. How you pitied him.

“Patrick beat me again.” His eyes turned to the floor.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

No part of you was surprised, Art had been getting beaten by everyone recently. You’d stopped coming to his games to save yourself the embarrassment. The boy needed pushing, or motivating somehow. You looked at his little head, bowed in shame like a dog. “Come in then.” He practically jumped at that.

Once Art had gotten comfy, sitting cross legged in his shorts on your bed awaiting orders, you sighed. “You can’t keep letting Pat beat you, coming here and looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You took in his slightly flushed cheeks, his doe eyes under the pile of blonde curls and the slight craning of his neck to show he was listening.

“Like that.”

Art smiled a smile you almost returned but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. He was demanding to be lead on - begging for it. Well, you wouldn’t.

“If I’d known you were gonna be this needy I’d never have fucked you.”

His smile didn’t falter at that. He was annoyingly positive sometimes, full of complaints when he wanted attention but never cross when he was being told off. Art just wasn’t one for giving up. You shrugged off your jacket and sat next to him on the bed, ignoring the way his eyes admired every inch of you.

“I’m glad you did.” Art grinned, feeling proud as he remembered you stripping in front of him and swallowing his cum as he whimpered. He saw it as his greatest achievement, far more impressive than any dusty tennis trophy. All he wanted, more than Wimbledon - more than fame more than anyone was you. You consumed him, you had since first year. Since he first plucked up the courage to ask you to a Stanford party and your friendship with Patrick had given him a doorway. One he refused to step out of.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, staring at your face in awe - his hand edging towards your own on the bed. You felt something at how earnest he was, something akin to warmth but something you couldn’t deal with just yet. “Careful.” You warned. “Just think before you speak.”

Art shook his head, moving closer to you. “Mmm, can’t. Not around you.” God, he was cute when he was desperate. His little wriggly movements, his wide eyes and puffy lips. He’s probably hard already, you thought trying not to smile. Poor baby, it had been a week since you’d touched him and for Art a week of pure longing. He’d touched himself to the thought of your kisses so much he’d forgotten how to finish without you in his head. Without the flashing images of your lips round his cock or your grin at his moans he felt nothing.

Sensing a ‘no’ coming, Art did what he did best. He begged. “Please,” he moved your hair off your ear to kiss under it. “I miss you.” You asked him how that was even possible when he’d been practically living in your room but time meant nothing to this star player. A second without you was a second too long. “Need you now mommy…please.” Your stomach flipped at the honorific, how it dripped off his tongue so deliciously. It suited him. You wanted him to say it again.

Before you could say anything Art was planting eager kisses up and down your neck. You let him, told yourself you were giving him a much needed win but really you were loving it. With Art so preoccupied with your neck you could safely squeeze your thighs together. You both knew how desperate he was to fuck you again, everyone knew. Patrick knew. His trainer. Your trainer. Everyone in a 10 mile radius. What you didn’t both know was how likely it was to happen again if he’d only beg a little more.

To Art’s dismay you gently pushed him off you, looking into his pleading blue eyes trying not to break. “You realise I’m not your girlfriend right?” It was harsh but a fair question. The boy seemed unsure. When he didn’t answer you narrowed your eyes. “Because I’m not fucking you if you answer wrong.” Suddenly the tent in Art’s pants hardened and his pupils grew a few millimetres. He got all wriggly, like an animal caught in a trap. A horny, desperate one.

“You’re not my girlfriend.” Art sighed but it was clear he was still hoping for your approval. He knew it should disgust him, how much he craved and desired it, but it didn’t. Your hand on his thigh only spurred him on, reminding him that he’d follow you anywhere and that he’d be or do anything for you. Anything you asked.

“Art,” you could tell he’d retreated into his head. Nothing a hand down his shorts wouldn’t fix. “I need you to relax okay?” Art melted into your touch and at the gentleness of your voice, the care in it. You found his cock immediately, hard and desperate, and felt the weight of it in your hand for a moment. If you’d been feeling mean you’d have teased him but something told you if you didn’t touch him now he’d cry.

As your hand worked its magic Art closed his eyes, leaning his head ever so slightly back. He needed this and fuck did he look angelic taking it. His little breaths and fluttering lashes spurred you on. It didn’t take long for him to start bucking up into your touch desperate for you to go faster. You refused, ceasing your movements to pull him with both hands into a kiss. He practically gasped when your tongue entered his mouth but that was followed by a moan at the intrusion. He tasted like spearmint.

“You’re so,” you gasped in between kissing him. “Fucking cute.” Art felt charged up at your compliment. You usually avoided giving them out finding it easier to show your affection rather than state it. He treasured those moments where you let slip how much you really liked him.

“Mmmm!” He was close you could tell.

“You gonna cum for me?”

Art started nodding aggressively, eyes closed and hips bucking.

“You can’t wait till you’re inside?” You cooed in that patronising tone he found so sexy and hurtful. Art tried to think straight, though his body was betraying him as it chased the orgasm you were yet to give. You asked him again, playing nice, and it sunk in the second time. Art stopped bucking. He stopped moving at all. All he could do was watch in a mixture of sorrow and excitement as you let his cock go.

“Take your shirt off.”

Art knew an order meant sex was on the table - not even on the table it was guaranteed to happen. He didn’t let on how gleeful he felt at that fact, instead he obediently threw his t-shirt off. It landed in the pile of clothes on your floor but his eyes didn’t linger for long, they couldn’t not when you were taking your own shirt off. Art gulped at the sight of your bare chest, your tits that begged to be kissed and sucked and the line of your neck and shoulders. God he was obsessed with you, truly he felt almost in love.

Art’s mind raced with possibilities. Were you going to let him eat you out? Sit on his face? Were you simply going to straddle him without any foreplay and sink your warm, wet pussy down onto him? His cock twitched at the image. You hiked up your skirt and let him hurriedly pull down your soaked panties with wide eyed. He couldn’t believe that was for him - because of him. The most beautiful woman in the world is turned on…because of me.

“You’re so b-“

You promptly shut him up by sinking down onto him, his eyes grew even wider with shock. No warning, no words just pure lust. Art was inside you again, finally, and it felt so good he thought he could cum already. “Shit…” he moaned and you hadn’t even started to move. His size was an adjustment, especially seeing as you hadn’t let him pleasure you beforehand, but you felt deliciously full. Full and smug.

“I might just stay here,” you teased, rocking your hips painfully slowly. “Forever.” It was torture for Art, your painstakingly light movements and your gleeful smirk. You both knew what teasing him did to you - how powerful it made you feel. “Mommy…”

“I’m right here.” You cooed, gazing down at his eager face and lust filled eyes. He hadn’t bothered to take his shorts off, you’d just shoved them to the side, and somehow that turned you both on more. All that mattered to Art was you. Your bare skin so close to his own and your heavy breaths, those he could hear even over his own moans. Although you wanted nothing more than to torture Art and bring him to the very precipice of pleasure just to snatch it away you had to think about your needs. Your cunt was leaking already, your skin was hot and there was a fire inside you that needed him. So when he moaned:

“Fuckkkk…”

It seemed only right for you to say:

“Yes that’s it, fuck mommy.”

Art groaned, indulging his lust and carnal needs he’d usually feel embarrassed of. Before you Art had always hidden his desires from partners and even himself. He’d been raised conservatively, this you knew, so you found it gratifying to pull his real self out. It made you wet to see his cheeks redden when you said such things and you couldn’t help the smile that filled your face when you felt him harden even more inside you. He started to quicken his pace.

As Art closed his eyes to focus on how good you felt you stared at him, watching him. Studying him. The way he clamped his arms around your waist to easily thrust up into you, how his eyes were scrunched shut so he didn’t cum early and that one bouncy curl hiding his left eyebrow. He was beautiful, you had to admit. In your horny state it was easy to get lost studying Art and forget everything else. He felt the same about you.

Art didn’t wait too long before opening his eyes, not wanting to miss too much. Your tits were so close to his face as your chest heaved up and down up and down. It was driving him insane - you were driving the poor boy insane. How could he still need you when he was inside you?

The bed creaked under Art’s rabbiting movements, groaning under the strain of his excitement. He was groaning too, whimpering whenever you kissed or bit his neck and struggling not to cum. It was all too much, your warmth, your tits, your thighs wrapped round his own and your lips open to let out angelic moans. He wanted to give you everything, everything he had. All Art desired was to make you happy.

“Mommy!” there was a tinge of panic in his voice as he stared at you, awaiting permission but still fucking you hard and fast like you wanted. Feeling sorry for him you awed in his face, circling your hips to meet his movements and brushing the sweaty curls off his forehead. He wanted to cum. “Already?”

Art nodded frantically, feeling his release draw closer and closer. You were on the pill, he knew that, but he still needed permission. With every thrust he sheathed himself to the hilt and yet you still both needed more. “You gonna cum for me?” Art’s mouth started opening as he edged himself, not wanting this moment to end but needed release more than anything.

“Cum inside mommy, I want to feel it.”

That did it.

Before you could finish your sentence, Art was holding your waist impossibly close to him and releasing inside you. “Oh fuck…fuck mommy I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” His little whimpers and blushing skin sent you over, within seconds you were cumming too. The two of you were panting like animals, bucking into each other with all the energy you could muster. Art’s cum started to drip out of you, down his sensitive cock and onto the bedsheets but your focus was him. He was breathing heavier than last time, heavier than you’d seen him after matches.

“Are you okay?” You asked after a moment, with genuine concern. Not wanting to startle him you chose not to move, instead you held him in your arms and kissed his cheek. The softness of it made Art feel safe but more sorrowful that you wouldn’t date him. “I’m okay.” He looked out of it so you squeezed his hand. “You can sleep here.” The boy practically jumped for joy. He thought he’d won.

“No, no.” You laughed at his presumptuousness. “This doesn’t mean what you’re thinking.” But Art slept wonderfully well that night believing there was hope yet.

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Masterlist

Permanent Art taglist:

@theynothem @amorisxx

reblog to bap prev with your paw

literally… its not even a joke atp

I want to date the whole Strawhat crew literally

ouhhh that hurt

hey um :3 where do you hold your love?

in your heart

you hold your love in your heart. love is intrinsic, inevitable, love is the beating core of everything; love is also hard to talk about. your love comes out with more rareness, mostly shows up for the big things in a big way- this doesn't mean it doesn't beat for the small stuff, you feel it all, in fact you feel it more intensely than most which is why it's so hard to get out. you hold your love inside you because it matters, it might be the only thing that does.

i love this woman more than anything

evergreen