#they better grab those wigs

[bylersrise]

they better pull out the wigs for mike's hair in season 5 I'm sorry but i am not watching short haired mike i cant

#i refuse #like no #i wanted him to have a cute ponytail in season 5 and will to pine even more #with short hair that won't happen #they better grab those wigs #or else #stranger things #mike wheeler #byler #< target audience

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 4)

Task Force141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Captain Price confronts you but he ends up wanting to cut off his eardrums instead.

You are currently reading Chapter 4. Here is Chapter 3 and the Masterlist!

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language, Mentions of violence and smut (if you squint) WORD COUNT 3.1K

Your forehead was planted on the wall before you, slanting your whole body underneath the running shower. Warm water unraveled your skin and you watched the drops fall to the white tiles beneath you, eyes following the flow until the drain.

Then your eyes shifted to the annoying fucking beeping monitor around your ankle. It beeped and lit repeatedly, as though mocking you that you had nowhere to go and the bald eagle had his shackles on you.

You grumbled, raking your fingers on your wet locks and pulled. "Fuck you, Shepherd. I hope your pinky toe hits a table and you die in pain!" You exclaimed, throwing punches in the air until you extended too far and slammed your fist on the wall.

You whimpered in pain and held your hand, crouching down on the floor. "Ah, shit. You fucking dumbass," you cursed at yourself.

You winced as your knuckles throb. You gazed at it, furrowing your brows and scrunching your nose at its redness. It didn't look like you broke a bone, but they surely would bruise later.

You sighed at your stupidity and remained crouching on the floor, eyeing the fallen strands of your hair coiled on your toes.

Was it necessary for Shepherd to humiliate you in front of the Task Force? Then again, your decency had long been thrown to the sewers and never to be seen again. Eh, maybe the scary fucking shit of a clown was taking care of your decency while he was taking a bath with the water mixed with piss and diarrhea from people's toilets in those canals, just like how he took care of children.

Not.

The General was merely a sadistic son of Gollum with a God complex. Seemingly a good guy but would throw his soldiers on the battlefield like chess pawns and replaceable toys he had gotten on Target on a Tuesday night in a bob cut wig, a cow onesie, and platform heels while taking a swig from the bottle of Bourbon he stole from the shelves.

Then, he’d play with them like a kid throwing toy tanks around, an awful whirring sound coming out of his throat like a goat going 'BLEEEEEEEAAAUGHHHH RATATATATA RATATATA!' as gun noises, lining up his green plastic soldiers like from Toy Story to go on war with Barbies and dinosaurs he stole from his neighbors.

Then, on his prissy little walk, he found another toy on the road.

You.

The bitch-ass scoundrel of an egghead caught you, only to throw you out and let his lap dog handle you (at least, his dog was better).

You were sure Gaz had noticed your hands and Soap had felt the way you shuddered earlier today. Price had kept his gaze on Shepherd, eyes narrowing the whole time, and Ghost, with the way he went around the table so he could observe every inch of you.

It would be more surprising if these people said to be dangerous as hell, failed to notice your stiffness the whole time you talked with the old man.

But that was the plan.

You wiggled your toes to remove the hair and stood up, a smile appearing on your lips as thoughts hit your mind.

You began to remember some scenes in BL manhwas you had read before, specifically taking place in the shower, where the top would be running his hand on the bottom's thighs and—

And . . .

AND YOUR FREAKING DRAWINGS WERE IN PRICE'S OFFICE!

You turned the shower off. "Shit." You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around you. "Shit, shit!" You hauled another towel and wrapped it on your head.

You rushed out of the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor because of the water droplets, then padded towards your closet. You only had a few pairs of clothes with you, most of them were bought by Kate when she was looking after you.

You slipped on a hoodie that you had to fight Laswell to let you bring and cargo pants, but the ankle monitor was a bitch and wouldn't let you tuck in your pants. In the end, you just folded up the hem of the pants above the monitor and did the same to the other.

If only you weren't going to the Captain's office, you would have worn shorts that you were required to wear for physical training. But rules were equally a bitch and you weren't allowed to do it. Because bruh, they didn't know the struggles of someone with a bigass ankle monitor that would go wee-woo wee-woo! like goddamn ambulance whenever you set foot outside the building without Soap slamming on you as if you were in a bloody wrestling match.

But then again, people here weren't criminals (or maybe they had already committed a crime, but no one caught them doing it), and you had no right to complain about how things go.

You slammed the door open and screamed at the person before you. "Jesus!" Before you knew it, your palm planted on the person's face, making them stumble back upon impact. Only when a hat landed on your feet and the person brought their hand to their cheek, did you realize it was Price, who stared at you with an open mouth and wide eyes.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA—" You dropped to your knees and clasped your hands. "Oh my god, sir, captain, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You cried and dipped your head low. "Please, don't bring me back to Shepherd!"

"That's not . . ." His low voice trailed off as he gazed down at you, frowning at how you didn't even hesitate to kneel before him, as though you had done this before.

What the fuck did Shepherd do to you?

He sighed and reached down to you. "Get up, young lady—"

"Didn't know ye were into havin' someone on their knees before ye, sir," a deep voice in a thick Scottish accent echoes from the hallway.

You and Price turned to where the voice came from, and in a blink, the captain dashed towards the sergeant, giving him a good knee on the stomach.

A couple of flashes went off as Soap coughed in pain. Behind him, Gaz and Ghost had their phones out.

Aye, ladies and gentlemen, the dangers to be reckoned with, Task Force 141!

You cupped a hand beside your mouth and shouted, "Well fucking deserved, macrooster!"

"Hah?!" Soap whipped his head in your way, eyes bulging out. "What'd ya call me?!"

"I said, do better, Mactavish!”

"That's not what ya said!"

“Why are you three here?” Price questioned, pulling Soap back up to his feet.

“We’re going to ask her to play Uno with us,” Gaz answered, walking past them and sauntering towards you. You flashed him a soft smile, which he returned and extended a hand to you. You grabbed the Captain’s hat by your feet and clasped Gaz’s hand, letting him pull you up as though you weighed nothing. You put Price’s hat on him, tilting it down to hide his eyes, making a low laugh leave his lips. “C’mon now, hun.”

Ey, wadafak?

Did this guy—dead-ass beautiful guy, who was definitely the Captain’s favorite son, one who still hadn’t strangled the shit out of you, which you wished he would do already so you could feel his thighs and biceps and pecs—called you hun? Oh, you’d suck his dick right now, leave kisses on every inch of his body like your life depended on it, moan his name, and let him have you in the way he wanted until all the walls were white.

But that would be bad. Real bad. Because: One, Shepherd would lock you up again. Two, Shepherd would paint the room red with your blood. Three, you’d be Phillip Grave’s slave again. Four . . . 141 would hate you.

You were used to being told flattering words and getting cat-called, and most of the time, it didn’t end well. For them.

But Gaz, well, he could get away with it, and Soap.

Price raised a brow. “Where’d you get . . .”

“Confiscated it from the rookies.” Soap rubbed his stomach and frowned at the reddened spot shaped like a hand on the older man’s cheek. “What happened to yer face, Cap’n?”

You averted your gaze, which Gaz noticed as he fixed the hat on his head. A small smirk appeared on his lips, knowingly eyeing you.

"Nothing." Price cleared his throat and marched back to you, followed by Soap and Ghost, who you realized was holding a small cardboard box.

Was that filled with Uno cards they confiscated or something?

Pushing the thought back, you looked up at the Captain. "Uh, I apologize, sir, but may I ask what brings you here?"

"I want to have a word with you," he replied immediately, causing his soldiers to raise their brows in question. "Preferably in private." He nodded at the dark, empty hallway behind him.

“Oh, if that’s an order coming from you sir,” you nodded, “then of course.”

Price shook his head. “Not an order, but I deem it more important.”

You calmly nodded, keeping your eyes at the intensity of his gaze. “Of course, sir.”

Price turned to the rest of his team and patted Soap’s shoulder. “You can play Uno later. I won’t keep her too long.” With that, he glanced at you as a sign to follow him and marched away.

You shot a smile at the three, before jogging after the Captain. He kept a steady pace, not fast to let you keep up with his big steps yet not slow, so it wouldn’t take long to where he wanted to lead you which was definitely not his office. Only your footfalls could be heard in the hallway, whereas in the daytime, it was usually bustling with soldiers. You stared at his broad back and heaved out a sigh. Somewhat, you had a feeling of what the conversation would be.

“Frankly, I don’t trust you,” he said, deep voice echoing in the hallway along with your footsteps.

You couldn’t help but smile at his back. Goddamn, straight to the point.

“We do not know where you’re from, you have a criminal record, and we’re not sure why Shepherd put you in my Task Force.” He halted before a door, turning to you in a blink that you almost bumped into him if you hadn’t reacted fast enough. “But there must be a reason why he called you a ‘tool’.”

You pursed your lips, sighing again. You shook your head and met him directly in the eyes. “I’ll also be frank, sir. I hate being called a ‘tool’. I am human, just like the rest of you, although I may be different from the kind of people you were used to being around. I can’t blame you for being suspicious and untrustworthy. But I assure you, I am here to work.”

His eyes narrowed. “Work?” He repeated. “Work for Shepherd as his spy? Work to foil our missions? Work to assassinate the Task Force?”

You simply stared at him. “No, sir. I’m here to help you.”

“Oh, but the Task Force is enough without you,” he said, watching your unwavering gaze. During the past week, he had observed you from the sidelines, not getting as close as the three did but still laughed along with the rest of you at the right times. Your laid-back demeanor, smiles and laughs seemed genuine, yet he couldn’t see what your eyes had beheld and couldn’t discern what circles in your mind. But he was sure of one thing, those weren't the eyes of a mere criminal.

“I . . . I mean, if we do the math, five is better than four in quantity—but I guess, you’re talking about quality and yeah, I’ve heard enough stories about why Task Force 141 is dangerous,” you rambled, shrugging.

He almost pulled a face had he not remembered this was technically an interrogation. Why on earth were you talking about math?

He leaned down a bit. “If I happen to know you’re here to bring harm to us, I’m telling you now,” he paused and pointed at you, “you’ll wish you’re dead.”

He then swiftly turned and opened the door, a range welcoming your sight.

You had heard of threats like that a few times before. It was certainly overused, but it never got old, because either it became true or it became a laughable warning to those who couldn’t make it true.

You had heard Shepherd and Graves state that while you were on a chair, hands, and ankles bound in chains on a chair in the middle of a small, dimly lit room with roaches and spiders partying around. You could remember the screws, pliers, and other tools scattered on the floor, creating clangs each time they were dropped, splattering blood on the floor. And every time they did, all they could hear after was a wheezy laugh from your lips, commenting on how cheap they were to use those tools.

But this time, you couldn’t laugh.

Because this man just let you stand before him and let you walk behind him as if he didn’t even consider you could stab him in the back. He didn’t back away when he had a pocket knife peeking out of his pockets that you could simply grab and drive to his throat, then go for the rest of his team.

It should have been laughable, and yet, you admired him for not keeping you restrained for not knowing what you knew and could do. You admired him for being head-on, instead of making you hear a bland-ass monologue that could make you sleepy like some kid.

You admired him for his words that meant he'd kill for the safety of Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.

Now this was a gamble you were willing to take on.

“By the way, sir,” you followed him in, “are you going to make me your target? I don’t think I can dodge all the bullets you’re going to fire at me. 

He pulled a face, his nose scrunching. “No.”

“Are we having a competition? I like competitions.”

“. . . No.”

“I thought you said this won’t take long, sir. It’s been eight minutes and forty-nine seconds, fifty seconds, fifty-one—”

For the first time in his life, Jonathan Price wanted to slam his head on a concrete.

The plane descended on the runway and brought harsh, cold winds slashing in every direction, beating the falling snow out of the way.

You sat on the hood of the jeep Price used to bring the group, feet swinging back and forth and watching the plane turn. You gathered your hair in a couple of French braids, before tying them into a bun. You had worn a headset, given by Captain Price, but that wasn't enough to keep your ears from the cold, unlike the rest of your body covered in layers of thick clothes, but still light enough to move around swiftly.

You kept your gloved hands in the pocket of your jacket, pursing your lips as the blades of the plane came to a stop. A stair was placed in front of the door before it slid open and a familiar man climbed down.

Phillip Graves, the Shadow himself.

Blond hair parted from the left as usual, but instead of a shirt, he had worn a jacket under his vest to fight off the cold. He still had the fucking collar microphone thing around his neck, though. Like a good dog.

Price walked forward, meeting the commander halfway, and extended a gloved hand towards him. "Graves, good to work with you again."

"Likewise, Captain." Phillip gave his hand a shake, before quickly taking his own back, and shot a glance at you. "Hope someone isn't making your life a living hell."

Price chuckled, his breath coming out as white puffs. "No, not really."

"Well, don't expect it to last." The Shadow scoffed and walked over to your direction with the Captain. Without batting an eye this time, he greeted the Sergeants and Lieutenant, shaking their hands, patting their shoulders as though they were brothers-in-arms.

You huffed at the friendly smile on his face, kind of glad to have a new person (not really) to annoy around, and shifted your gaze at the men in black following out of the chopper.

You grinned, eyes turning crescent, but just as you hopped down from the hood to run towards them, a hand grabbed your arm. You faced Ghost, who stared at you in silence, but that was enough to tell what he wanted to say. "I'm just going to greet the Shadows," you said.

"I don't think they like to talk with ya," Ghost claimed, his eyes shifting to the contractors who all remained standing at the bottom of the stairs. He let go of you. Or maybe, they didn't want him to talk to them. Could be both, though.

"Your sinister face is enough to greet them," Phillip declared, swiveling to you with a serious face.

You turned, mirroring his expression. "Nice to see you too, Phillip," you responded and raked your eyes from his face and down to his boots. You painted a smile on your face, bringing your gaze up to his face. "Have you been working out? It seems you've gotten bigger." You stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "Can't wait to have you under me again."

The Task Force and Graves simultaneously furrowed their brows upon hearing your words, a question going in their brains. Wadafak?

Soap couldn't help but stare at your condescending smirk with his lips slightly parted in disbelief. What the actual fucking fuckity fuck? Did he hear that right? Did you actually shag this American? Well, not that he was concerned, but it seemed you didn't have a good relationship with him considering the way you tensed up before Shepherd and Graves' mere pictures back at the meeting a couple of days ago. Wait—were you actually into Graves instead but the man was so devoted to the General and you hated that? Bloody steaming Jesus.

Graves shook off your hand and stepped away, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t touch me."

"Okay." You backed away to Ghost's side, waving a hand and pulling a face. "Sensitive."

"Are we boarding the same vehicle?" Gaz questioned, turning the attention to him.

"Yes, General Shepherd said it would be better if we discuss the mission more thoroughly," Graves immediately answered, gesturing at the plane. "Currently, one of mine is piloting it.”

"Good," Price nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. "Let's get going, 141."

It was nice to hear him refer to you as part of the group, but you knew it was just a facade he decided to keep after the gamble you took a couple of nights ago.

And he made one thing clear, share the prize or pay the price.

The Chapter 5 is here!

You can also read the series on AO3 here!

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie, @sarahedwards16

Note: EARLY UPDATE FOR Y'ALL CUZ IT'S MY BDAY!!! Ngl, I'd let Gaz rail me because it's Gaz (look at Elliot Knight, guys, man's fucking beautiful). Also, we're adding Keegan.

#call of duty #141 x reader #cod 141 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #konig x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig call of duty #gaz x you #konig x you #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #soap x you #phillip graves #cod graves #happy birthday #it's my birthday #ghost smut #soap smut #gaz smut

[nightfallsolace]

Our Little Secret// Hanma Shuji x Reader  || Chapter 2

in which (Y/n) Ryuguji Draken’s little sister, has a hidden affair with one of their enemies, Hanma Shuji.

The music was blasting trough your headphones, you knew if someone walked into your room they would hear the raging music all the way from the door frame. You didnt want to lower the volume, it was perfectly fine. Yes sure there was a risk that you could potentially go deaf but thats only pontential, it wont come true anytime soon. Yet despite not wanting to lower the volume you had to anyways, after all your older brother could knock at the door at any given moment and tough the sound would be lowered by the sensual moans in the room beside you, there was still thatslight chance and you didnt want to worry your dear brother.

While you were turning down the volume a notification popped up on the top of the screen, the contact read "Wanna be Annabelle" and you groaned not wanting to deal with that Wednesday Addams rip-off

"Hey (n/n) wanna go and hangout? "

You scoffed at his audacity, seriously? In broad daylight he'd invite you to fight when he knows youd rather jump off a cliff now than let yourself be known, it'd ruin the years of eefort of concealing the fact you werent just some clumsy little girl hiding behind his big strong brother's back. The three dots appeard on the bottom left of the screen as another message popped up

"i know youve read my message :)"

As much as you wanted to leave the man on read you couldn't because he knew who you really were and any day now he could tell your dear old precious older brother, and he wouldnt actually belive a word rannabelle would say he would still give the benefit of doubt, Ken-chin's a brute but hes not stupid.

"and by hang out you mean go and dislodge some joints? why should I accept your invite? What even will i get from this?"

Sent.

"dont be mad princess you know i wouldn't invite you for a friendly beat up session with no proper excuse"

There was a pause  before the phone rang the iconic "ding"

"The group's harassed alot girls in the area bannering around their petty little title and evn used me and Rin-rin's name, CAN YOU BELIVE IT? THE AUDACITY THOSE ASSHOLES HAVE--

Anyways im sure youd love to beat them up due to their background, and to top it all off,  they've been collecting money from old ladies off the street"

Your face contoured in disgust and anger, they even targeted GRANNIES?? DO THESE MEN HAVE NO HEART??

"fine, but when i get there i better have a (favorite drink) and starberry shortcake with the extra jam and cream or im shoving your batton up your ass.

Meet me at our usual cafe. "

Sent.

Read.

" ah yes, there's the woman with anger issues ive grown to love"

You scoffed with disbelief

"atleast I havent been charged with murder."

You didnt wait for a reply and got up to get ready, throwing on some cloud spun stockings and a a pretty pink skirt, putting on a cycling for extra measure to make sure no would could peek. You quickly did your eyeliner and applied a heavy coating of strawberry lip balm cause your lips were dry as hell and it was starting to hurt.

You threw on the sweater your brother had given you a few months back as a congratulations present for being the top student in your class, it was a nice shade of pastel yellow and had a few blue and pink accents here and there. You grabbed one of your wigs and a cap gently placing it in your bag.

You sent a text your older brother saying you'll be going to Roppongi and will be back before midnight and got a "ok, stay safe, message me when you get there." as a reply.aWith that done you walked you way to the nearest train station greeting a few classmates along the way. You made pyour way to the counter to purchase a ticket and wait for a solid 5 minutes before the train to Roppongi was called, the train was pretty croweded considering it was the weekends and there was a new shopping mall that just oppened in the area.  It was suprisingly quick considering the travel time was normay longer and slower, you got off the train not before helping an old lady get to the platform.

You walked trough the busy streets of Roppongi passing several small stalls and a few several malls, the streets were busy and loud, music blasting from each store front the boisterous music competing in volume trying its best to attarct the most customers, even in the day this place is always so loud and livey. You stopped at a cafe in the near outskirts of the main city, it was less loud and had more of a calm feel to it, youd prefer this place than the city anyday. As you got closer to the cafe you spotted a man with long black hair with bleached accents stiiting under one of the purple parasols shading the tables and chairs outside the cafe, instead of his normal pigtails, his hair was held up in an elegant bun and wore a fold framed non-perscription glasses. You called out to the man and he shot a look your way

"Ah there you ar-"

"my food?"

"yeah yeah here" the man handed you a bag of (f/d) and strawberry shortcake with extra jam and cream

"good" you opened the bag to inspect the contects to see if it actually had extra cream and jam, and once you finished you smiled satisfied. "thank you"

His face showed pure "genuine" shock "You?! Thanking me?! Oh my i must be dreaming, have you had a change of heart? Oh ive been blessed!" he dramatically put his hand on his mouth and prentented to faint "someone catch me this is to overwhelming!" he fell backwards and you had to catch him despite your raging urge to let him fall. "get up Ran you're heavy" you push him upwards to help him stand up and he stood with a huff and brushed himself off even tough he didnt even fall.

"where's Rin? You said looking around "I tought he'd be here" Ran scoffed in disbelief "Wow im the one whos standing right here beside you and you look for my brother? Im hurt (n/n) "  you shook your head and took out the (f/d) from the bag opening the can

"well thats because his attitude is more tolerable than yours" 

Before he could have time to reply you dragged him out of the cafe's property and led him to the alley near by.

"enough folling around I plan on tending to my plants before going home, where are the guys you were talking about" he pulled out his phone and searched for a bit before placing the phone in your hands, "thats where they usually are, i got it from some residents around here" you looked at the picture and the coordiantes "and how are we going to get there?" he smiled big and toothy

"I tought youd never ask, were taking my bike" you took your bag and pulled out the wig and cap you brought "I tough so" you tied your hair up and put on the cap, placing the wig and appliying a bit of wig glue around the rim to make sure it wont fall of during the ride.

"kay im done let's go" the two of you walked to where his bike was parked back at the cafe, he got on the bike and revved it up and signalled you to hop on. The two of you sped trough the streets of roppongi

"AH- PLEASE-" you stomped on the man's nose as his blood gargled in his nose as he struggled to breath. 

"please? Pathetic, look at you begging for me to stop, to listen to your pleas, but tell me, did you listen to all those women who said no?" you crouched down to reach the man's height 

"did you listen when they told you that it hurt, or was uncomfortable with what you were doing?" the man stayed silent, his breathing was ragged and rough.

" i asked you a question." a hard blow landed on the mans stomach as he wheezed in pain, unable to scream due to the damage done to his body. 

"NO- I DIDNT-- IM SOR-" a painful smack hit him across the face. 

" it shouldnt be me you should be apologizing to, its all the women youve hurt and scared" you looked at Ran and answered as if he already knew what you were thinking. 

" no i dont have the women's adresses or names, i never received any info on it" you frowned dissapointed

"well i guess we'll just have to end this guys misery dont we?" he smiled at you and looked blankly at the man

 " you do the honors"  the man panic thinking this would be the last moment he would breath, but in reality you were just going to make him pass out, unlike ran you were "merciful" to those you beat up. You punched his face hard and blunt knocking him out. 

"my job here is done, drive me to the station?"

"whats the magic word? ~" the man sang annoyingly, you really really wanted to punch this guy's guts right now and leave him cold and passed out but you didnt wnat to walk to the train station. You chcked the time on your watch and the clocked flashed 4:45, it was pretty decent since you left at around 10 in the morning. You sighed defeated really not wanting to walk. 

"Ran will you please drive me to the station?" he smiled content, "alright". 

You got on his bike and he sped his way trough the streets ince again and dropped you off at the station. The two of you bid your goodbyes and you had told him to say hi to Rindou for you, he simply smiled and left. The ride home was tahnkfully peaceful, you had wipped your shoes and removed your wig at the stations bathroom and discarded the tissues in the bin. You opened your phone to find several missed calls from your older brother. 

"shit I forgot to text him" you muttered under your breath. You called him and sent apologetic looks to the people around you, bowing at them because of the ruckus you'll cause. 

"hello? Aniki?" you kept your voice hushed and low. 

"are you ok? you didnt text me and i was starting to get worried" you smiled at his reaction, your brother was a man that had a tough facade, which scared people, it made them think he was just a mean gangster, but in reality, he was extrenly kind and caring to those he loves and holds dear. 

"yes im ok, im sorry for not texting you when i got there, i forgot" he sighed relieved. 

"its alright just make sure to get home safe" "dont worry I will, i gotta hang up im on the train, love you"

"love ya to (n/n) keep safe" a long beep was heard as he hung up, you once again bowed and sent apologetic bows to the people in the train and they simply bowed back, well more like nodded but what is is what it is. You got off the train and walked your way towards one of the nearby beaches where you had set up your own makeshift garden, it was littered with nightshades and foxgloves, which you sold after you processed it extracting its poision and seeling it a pretty decent price. Was it illegal? Yes, yes it was, could it pottentially get you in trouble? Yes, yes it could, and could it pottentially be a gateway to a more darker path in life presumably in the mafia of a larger crime gang? Yes, yes in fact. 

You turned left to where the big stone which was hiding the plants only to see a man standing in the patches of nightshades and foxgloves. You stopped in your tracks, usually no one was there, infact, the only person who ever came there was you. Maybe it was the fact that it was a pretty secluded area, and the fact that atleast 6 murders happened there, including the nightshade poisoning incident, people were advised not to go. But there stood a figure looming in the darkness, you were readey to fight as you got closer you were able to make up who was the man standing in your garden, and there he was, in all his glory Hanma Shuji. 

#shuji hanma #hanma shuji #hanma shuji x you #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #ran haitani #shuiji hanma tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #TokyoRev #tokyo revengers #tokyorevengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #hanma tokyo revengers #ran tokyo revengers #draken #draken tokyo revengers #ken-chin #ken ryuguji

[quicktosimp]

Unplanned

Kinkmas Day 11

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Alien Genitalia, P in V Sex, Rutting, Overstimulation, Semi Public, Gagging, Dub-Con (At First), Fingering

A/N: Day 11 we're almost there! And Merry Christmas Eve, and Happy Holidays!!!

@neteyamsyawntu

I had run out of my birth control meds early and had to make the long trek back to the human base. On the way there, Neteyam couldn’t keep his hand off of me, always needing to touch me, which escalated as the trip progressed. Now, here I am, waiting in the thankfully empty dining hall, with nothing better to do.

Behind me, I heard the sounds of an airlock door open. I turn and see Neteyam stalking toward me, his eyes dark and hungry. 

“Teyam is everything-”

“Mine!” He roared as he grabbed onto my waist, hoisting me into his arms.

“What are you talking about, Neteyam?” I asked fearfully.

Neteyam’s nose pressed into the juncture of where my neck meets my chin and breathed deeply, “My Muntxate,” His voice was gravelly, almost struggling with those two words, “Smells so good,” He trailed off as he sniffed lower; leading to my cunt. 

Neteyam placed me down on my stomach over one of the large tables.

“Neteyam! What are you doing?” I asked again, needing some answers.

I was only met with growls in return before the sound of cloth ripping met my ears. My pants were in tatters as he ripped part of them off of me. I struggled in his grasp, trying to get away.

“Neteyam! That’s enough of this. Let me go!” I shout at him, only to be met by displeased growls.

Two of Neteyam’s large fingers hooked into my panties before he ripped them off of me, leaving my cunt bare for him. 

“No Teyam! Stop this!” I shout again.

Instead of listening, Neteyam used the tatters of my pants and tied my arms behind me. Before I could protest again, he shoved my ruined panties into my mouth, effectively gagging me, as I was forced to taste myself and reminisce of Neteyam’s cum for our earlier mating. Two fingers quickly entered me with a squelching noise, Neteyam’s cum from earlier easing the way as his fingers forced it out. I moaned from the feeling of his digits rubbing at my sore walls, but I was unable to deny the painful pleasure. 

Realizing I was still stretched from earlier, Neyetam removed his fingers from inside me, leaving me with an empty feeling. That didn’t last long as he lined up the tip of his tapered cock with my aching cunt, having not recovered from earlier. With his other hand, Neteyam grabbed my waist, holding me in place; my tits pushed into the metal table, the coldness seeping through my shirt, and my ass raised facing him. Neteyam’s growl mixed with a purr as he pushed in. He did it steadily, each spin on his cock pushing into my cunt with a pop before my cunt swallowed it, wanting to take it deeper. I moan around the gag as I try to wiggle my hips away, the feeling of his spines wiggling inside me too much to bear after taking his cock so many times lately. My cunt hasn’t been able to close properly, constantly dripping with his cum. Neteyam begins a steady pace, pushing and leaving so fast that I cannot adjust to his spines, each popping in and wigging around trying to find the right stop to lock inside me, but the pace that Neteyam keeps, his spines can’t lock, leaving them to rake my insides over and over again as more as the spines harden from blood flow. 

“Muntxate… Make you Sa’nu,” Neteyam growled as he struggled over the words, “Prrnen, put my Prrnen inside,” 

With that, he sped up his hips, his large cock spreading me wide, each scrape of his cocks spines driving me insane. I was close, embarrassingly fast. I had forgotten that I was in a public place. All I could think about was Neteyam’s cock and the taste of his leftover cum on my panties. The hand he wasn't using slipped down and rubbed at my swollen clit, sensitive from overuse. I screamed around my panties as I came, each wave of pleasure hitting me hard, and Neteyam refused to stop. His cock continued inside me as he thrust harder, and he circled my clit harder, refusing to let up. I tried to kick away when it became too much. Each wave of please came with a stab of pain. Finally, his dick lined up with my bruised cervix as he pushed past it, the tendrils at the tip of his cock quickly forming a seal, making sure not to let a drop of cum go to waste. Neteyam’s cock twitched once, then twice before flooding my insides with cum, mixing with the old cum from before. I looked down and saw a bulge forming over where his cock was inside me, building as more cum flowed into me. I whined as more kept flooding me, not understanding how Neteyam had so much cum inside him.

Neteyam was still cumming as he started to rock his hips again, grinding his dick into my oversensitive walls. I whined in protest, unable to take another round, especially as we were still locked. 

“Again,” and with that, he broke the seal and started fucking his cock into me again.

#avatar #avatar way of water #atwow #smut #avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar the way of water #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam smut #avatar neteyam #neteyam

[apotodiplodocus]

Guard Dog

Hi! So I'm back, I had a whoopsie but I am OK now and feeling in a better head space! I will be finishing You're My Idol! But for now I'm making a start on the Pet AU fic I promised all those weeks ago! I hope this is a good enough apology for vanishing. :D

Growing up you lived in semi-luxury. Your parents, humble people, worked high up in some organisation, you’d never been given the opportunity to see. You loved your parents, loved they worked so hard to support you and give you everything you need, but at the same time you don’t like them. It wouldn’t be fair to say you hated them because you didn’t. You didn’t like that they were never home, you didn’t like that while they tried to spare you from the truth you KNEW they did bad things, awful things, and they enjoyed it. It was hard to accept with a nanny that taught you to be good, kind and charitable, that your parents could do so much harm but only care for you and each other.

 

So as soon as you could, you moved out of their house, not their home, because it had never really been one. Too clean and quiet to be a home. You started working at a non-profit and life was good, you had a good life, occasionally having money battles with your parents where they would send you some money, you would send it back and then they would send back more until it was way too much, and you couldn’t bear the idea of them sending even more. In those cases, you would donate at least half of it to various charities. Only keeping the rest for any necessary repairs or emergency fund, knowing they would only send you more if they found out you gave it all away, and they would find out. Three years after you moved out you received a call from your mother. She was frantic, begging you to lock all your doors and windows and to hide in the deepest darkest corner you could find. They had pissed off the wrong person for too long and now people were after you. You were terrified, furious, and worried for your parents. So many conflicting emotions you didn’t have time to sort through while you did as instructed and trembled in the hardest to reach place you could.

 

The night passed and nothing happened. Nothing happened for a long time, you were crouched in that space for hours, muscles cramped and feeling like even if you wanted to get out, by now you probably couldn’t even move. It was around 5am when a brick flies through your window, shattering the glass, landing with a dull thud on your living room floor. You shock yourself when you find you can move, your hand coming up to slap against your mouth and muffle any sound. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait but nothing happens. You wait even longer this time and exhausted from all the fear and tension, you pass out. By the time you wake up its 3pm, you listen for 5 minutes and when you hear nothing you slowly climb out of your hiding space. There has been no news from your parents yet. But you can’t cower for ever, you’ve been hiding for almost a day, you are starving having just gotten back from work when you started hiding. You settle for crawling around your home to get what you need and hopefully stay out of sight. Once fed you receive a text from your mother telling you to pack your bags, they were on their way to pick you up.

 

As angry as you are, now is not the time to refuse. Someone wants to harm you, so obediently, you pack your things and when they arrive settle into the back seat, feeling safer with your parents in their tinted window car. They slap a wig on you and make you wear sunglasses. No-one speaks, barely breathes. They drive for hours, only stopping to quickly grab some last second things from a petrol station at 9pm. That short window where they are out of the car and distracted that you are dragged from the car. A hand is enclosed over your mouth, the other dragging you by the waist. They take you behind the petrol station, and into the forest, seemingly unperturbed by how hard you’re kicking and punching. In the only moment of clear thinking you have, you jam your fingers up your assailant’s nose and push upwards as hard as you can, hooking your nails into their flesh. They yell and let go of you out of reflex, you push off them, sending them hurtling backwards and throwing you forwards. You stumble but just focus on running, you sprint as fast as you can. In the commotion you lost track of your direction and realise if you were going in the right direction, you would have reached the car by now.  Having just run probably further into the forest you freeze and climb the nearest tree. You haven’t climbed a tree in years but in this moment, you are basically a master. Settled on a high branch, you have to adjust your wig so you can see properly and realise your sunglasses vanished at some point.

 

Not too long after you’ve finally slowed your breathing, the man arrives and looks around desperately. He takes off in a random direction when he hears a noise, but not even a minute later you hear yelling and he sprints back past your tree, something fast, so incredibly fast following immediately behind. Just out of sight behind the leaves of a different tree you hear the man being torn apart. Viscera seeping into view ever so slightly. Once the screaming stops, the figure, now covered in gore, appears at the bottom of the tree. You see bright eyes looking up at you and gasp. It had already known you were there; had it been watching? Strands of your wig cloud your vision again and you swipe at them moving them out of the way. It opens its arms to you in a welcoming gesture which just terrifies you further. It clears its throat and opens its mouth, exposing red tinted sharp teeth.

 

“Ume?” It speaks. Confused you don’t move, the voice is creaky, like it hasn’t been used in a while and it has a vulnerability to it, it’s masculine and its terrifying. You can recognise the intent though, it’s quiet and calming in a strange way that when he makes no more movements, convinces you to slowly come down. You carefully shimmy your way down and now stood before him, you realise he towers over you, at least 6 foot 5 possibly more.

 

“Ume? Who is that?” You question gently, keeping your distance cautiously. His arms twitch and withdraw slowly. He seems to realise something and, faster than you can comprehend, grabs your wig from your head hauling it away. The white strands glimmer in the moonlight and it makes you feel so naked, too seen with it off you. He snarls, throws the wig to the ground and turns away from you crouching, one hand over the back of his head and the other scratching deep marks into his neck. Blood spills down what of his neck you can see, mingling with the mud and viscera splashed on him. You gasp and step forward to stop him, but he whirls around and bares his teeth at you. A clear threat. You stop in your tracks and hold your open palms out, eyes on the wound that is now quickly closing. It dawns on you, he’s a demon. A loose demon. There are marks on his neck and wrists that look to be from prolonged exposure to wisteria laced restraints. Your heart shatters a little bit.

 

“Wait! I can help you. You want to find Ume, right?” You whisper, looking from his eyes to those monstrous teeth and both long nailed hands. His eyes narrow and you spot for the first-time little marks in his irises, kanji that indicate pure blood. Strong blood. His posture relaxes just slightly, waiting for you to continue but staying poised to attack if he doesn’t like the proposal. “I work with a charity that deals with rescuing and homing abused demons! I can use that to look for them I’m assuming they’re a loved one, right? Oh, and I can tell you’re a pure blood, if they are a loved one, I can see if there’s any demons with the same markings and take you to her.”

You don’t think about what will happen to you if you fail and you can’t find her, you don’t want to think about it.

 

He contemplates, eyes still wild and staring through you. He crouches to your level looking you in the eye with an intensity you’ve never experienced.

 

“… My sister. If you’re lying, I will tear you apart and make you watch.” He threatens, an amused almost excited grin spreading across his face, like he’s convinced you are lying and is just waiting to be proved right.

 

“OK. I understand. In return, I want you to protect me.” You say hesitantly and quickly expand on your request when he bares his teeth again. “There are bad people after me, I can’t find your sister if I’m killed in my sleep! All you need to do is stay with me, be pampered, and make sure no-one suffocates me!” You throw in pampering to sweeten the deal. He stops again, smirk returning. He says nothing but visibly relaxes. He stands, slouched now, he knows you aren’t a threat, couldn’t be if you tried. He gestures for you to start walking, pointing in what you assume is the direction of the petrol station. You don’t hesitate, walking a bit more confidently now, backed up by the strongest demon you’ve ever come across.

 

When you reach the petrol station, you are dumbfounded to find your parents car long gone. Some part of you was convinced they wouldn’t leave you. The demon behind you watches you slump to your knees staring at where the car had been. Collecting yourself takes a moment and a couple of tears rolling down your cheeks but you take a deep breath and stand up, brushing off some of the mud and debris from your scuffle.

 

“OK. Should have guessed. They probably just assumed I was long gone or dead. I can understand that. They’re still assholes, but I get it.” You mumble to yourself. The demon behind you giggles a little, seeming to take pleasure in your disbelief and abandonment. You let the feelings wash over you but then push on. “First things first, I saw a motel about ten minutes that way,” You point in the direction you had come from “I’ll get a room there, sneak you in get you cleaned up and then tomorrow we can go back to my apartment, and I’ll start looking for your sister.” You state in a matter-of-fact manner. The demon nods following behind you while you walk. It’s a good thing its dark out, walking around with a blood-soaked demon would not end well for either of you.

 

It takes you half an hour to get to the motel, it was a longer walk than drive coupled with the fact you both had to hide in the treeline when a car would pass so they wouldn’t see your new companion. On the walk you question him, asking question after question, the only answers you get to any of them is when you ask him his name.

 

“… Gyutaro.” He states looking straight ahead. You quirk an eyebrow.

 

“Just Gyutaro? If you have a last name, it could help me find your sister. Even if it was a past owner.” The word leaves a bad taste in your mouth but it’s the truth. His body stiffens a bit mid stride but relaxes again just as fast.

 

“Shabana.” You roll the name round in your mind, getting used to the sound, and searching your mind to think if you’d seen or heard it before. Not finding anything you don’t panic; you don’t remember everything you see it could still be somewhere in the records.

 

“Gyutaro Shabana and Ume Shabana.” Gyutaro doesn’t even look at you when you say it so you just focus on the walk and try to use clues to figure out how she might look. You see so many demons that insist they don’t have a name or don’t remember it, it might be easier to find her by appearance. Though Gyutaro is so encrusted with mud and gore you can barely see him. His hair is both flat and matted, twigs and leaves sticking out in every direction the only thing clean about him is his eyes, but they seem to have an unhealthy yellow colour to them. Though that might just be what they look like usually. When you do reach the motel, you have him hang back in the tree line while you book the room, you mime the number to him behind your back and gesture for him to go around the back to the window. As nonchalantly as you can you make your way inside the room, locking the door behind you and heading straight for the bathroom window.

 

Watching him squeeze his way through the tiny window is almost kind of impressive. Though once he is through you have to wipe away the grime he left behind. He takes his time looking around the room while you do.

 

“Gyutaro? You OK? You’ll want to have a quick shower before you have a bath… Gyutaro?” You called through the open door first, but when he doesn’t respond you poke your head out the door. He’s just sat on the bed seeming to be testing the comfort. When he spots you, he stands straight up like he was burned by the bed.

 

“It’s OK you can sit there for a minute if you want.” You smile, rolling your sleeves up so you can test the water temperature. As a demon, temperature probably doesn’t matter to him but you want to put in the care.

 

“But I’m covered in shit.” He states, looking at you like you’re stupid.

 

“Sheets can be washed, and there’s always spares if they get too messy to sleep in, go wild.” He hums and sits back down, gently bouncing on the springs. After checking the temperature and unpacking the soaps from the drawers you call him in for the shower. You show him how to adjust the temperature and leave him to his own devices. Not even a minute late you hear him slip and fall in the bathtub, most likely not having prepared himself. You knock on the door quickly.

 

“Gyutaro, are you OK?” You call. You don’t know why you’re concerned, he’s an adult demon, it would take more than that to hurt him and he wouldn’t die from a broken neck. Unless he found some way to decapitate himself. Right before you were going to open the door to check on him, he grunts out a confirmation and you hear him moving around. “OK, be careful.” He grunts again and you turn back to the room. To your amusement you see that at some point he flopped onto his back and made a mud angel on the bed. It was kind of endearing and heartbreaking at the same time, who knows how long it’s been since he had any form of comfort?

 

It briefly crosses your mind that maybe you should be more scared I this situation. You just got kidnapped, fought for your life, saw someone get eviscerated right in front of you, got abandoned by your parents and now you have to find a demon’s sister, or you’ll be killed in the same way as your kidnapper. You take this moment to hold yourself and try to come to terms with everything. Sorting through your feelings as best you can, you realise you should message your parents, let them know you’re still alive, and pissed at them. Oh, so very pissed. You send a scathing text but put your phone down, you can’t deal with whatever their response is right now, you just want them to stew in what they’ve just put you through. Maybe for once they might feel regret.

 

Eventually the shower stops, and you realise you forgot to give him a towel. As your reaching for one the door swings open, making you gasp and turn away.

 

“Gyutaro!” You want to scold him, but no words come out, you feel too awkward, so you hold the towel out behind you.

 

“What?” He snaps back, taking the towel.

 

“What do you mean what? You know what!” You exclaim still pointedly looking away. He stalks past you, towel around his waist and you properly see his body for the first time, in the awful fluorescent lighting and with no dirt obscuring it. You are shocked by how skinny he is, he had all that power in such a malnourished body? What is he like when he isn’t starving? There are black ink like splodges that litter his pallid body like constellations and you see his hair is two toned, black and green.

 

“I don’t know what you’re yapping about. It’s just my dick.” He snorts throwing himself onto the couch, towel just about staying on.

 

“Exactly! It’s private, I’m not getting my… bits out.” You look to the side getting progressively more flustered. You drag your hands down you face before wiping your hands of the situation. “Whatever, in future please keep yourself covered.” You scold.

 

“With what?” He shrugs at you, giving you that disgusted look again.

 

“Good point. I need to find you some clothes…” You stare at him, trying to guess his size and he takes notice, snarling at you.

 

“What?! Just realising how ugly I am? I bet you don’t even know how lucky you are, good looking, that car you came in sure did look nice, how much was it? Probably more than I’ve ever seen, good for you. Good for you.” He mumbles the last bit.

 

“No! Nothing like that, I’m just trying to guess what size clothes you are. You have broad shoulders, muscular arms… A tiny waist and long legs…” Are you… Attracted to that? Have you always been attracted to demons? Let along such strange ones? You can unpack that can of worms another time and preferably not in front of the demon in question. “I’m just gonna pop out and see if they have anything in lost and found. Don’t make too much noise, I’m supposed to be the only one in here.” He waves you away turning over on the couch, back now facing you.

 

When you eventually convince the front desk clerk to look through the lost and found you manage to find a huge coat, some slacks, and a pair of brogue shoes. And odd match overall but it’ll do to get you back to your apartment. By the time you come back to the room Gyutaro is dead asleep or pretending to be, so he doesn’t have to talk about you. Either way, you leave the clothes on a chair nearby and quietly undress. You hadn’t the foresight to grab some clothes for yourself once you realised you were also covered in mud, undressing was your only comfortable option. You slipped straight into the covers and think about how Gyutaro could have taken over the bed while you were gone but didn’t and you want to believe he chose to let you have it which is too much faith to have in a demon you’ve just met.

But you drift off peacefully, feeling safe in the knowledge that Gyutaro is a few feet away.

#gyutaro #gyutaro demon slayer #gyutaro kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyutaro x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #reader insert #modern au #pet au

[smuts-whore]

Title- Pride

Jey Uso x Black Female Reader

Rating- 18+

Warning: Smut

Word count:1429

I just finished my promo so I'm sitting at my vanity bushing my hair. I hear a knock on my locker room door.

I say," Come in I guess."

When I looked up I saw Jey Uso standing at my door. Me and Jey had a complicated relationship. We fuck a lot, like every night but we're not together. I put my melt band on my wig and turned around waiting for him to say something.

"You did good tonight mama", he said grabbing my hand.

" I always do. Ya'll were okay", I said as I giggled as I saw his face drop.

He said," Damn just okay? Maybe because I wasn't the one talking."

"Well that can really be the problem because I don't like when your mouth is open. I'd rather it occupied", I said sucking on his finger.

"Girl you better stop playing while we at work", he said biting his lip.

I laughed and walked out my locker room and was met by my best friend Bianca Belair.

Her eyes grew as she saw Jey walking out of my locker room and then she grinned.

"Are you two together" she asked crossing her arms.

"No of course not", I said scoffing.

"Really that's how you feeling. Well have fun by yourself tonight", he said walking away.

"Why would you say that? That boy is crazy over you", Bianca said while hitting my arm.

"I know I just can't go there with him you know. I'd rather just have casual hookups", I said rubbing my finger through my hair.

"People who are sleeping together every night and can barely sleep without each other are not casual Y/N. Think about it", she said walking away to meet Montez.

~At the hotel~

I'm laying in bed twisting and turning. I can't sleep at all. I want Jey in my arms and not only that I'm so fucking horny. I decided to suck in my pride and text him.

Y/N~ Hi

Jey~ What

Y/N~ Can you come to my room?

Jey~ No

Y/N~ Please I want to talk

Jey~ Sorry not tonight

I threw my phone down while groaning. I do want to talk but I want to get some first and he knows that. You know what I'm going to beat him at his own game.

I got up and went to take a shower. When I got out I went in my bag and grabbed my red and black lingerie. Before putting it on I put on my Victoria Secret lotion all over my body. I took some coconut oil and rubbed it on my pussy.

I put on the set with some black heels. I went to the bathroom and took off my bonnet and fixed my hair and edges. I sprayed the matching perfume on me and sighed looking at myself in the mirror. Damn I'm fine. I grabbed my robe and put it over my outfit for me to walk to his room.

I grabbed my room key and headed to his room which was on the floor above me. When I arrived in front of his hotel room my body started to heat up with want. I knocked and he yelled out that he was coming. When he opened the door he rolled his eyes.

I stared at him biting my lip. He just got out of the shower because he had water dripping down his body and a towel wrapped around his body. His tattoo looked good wet.

"What do you want Y/N", he said knocking me out of my thoughts.

"Can I please come in", I asked and he moved aside so I can walk in.

I sat on his bed and was welcomed by the smell of cologne. I whined and he caught me but chose to ignore it.

"Why are you mad at me", I said looking up at him.

"The fact that you had to ask is pissing me off more. You play too much. One minute you want me and the next your telling people we're not together with an attitude towards it. Make up your fucking mind!"

I jumped at him raising his voice at me. He never does that. Even though I was shocked, I had to cross my legs at the heat that grew between my legs. I bit my lip and he watched my expression closely.

"I'm sorry daddy", I said with a smirk.

His eyes darken with lust at those words.

"I'll take my punishment like a good girl", I said opening up my robe leaning back so I was on display.

A slow "fucckkkk" left his lips and he sat down next to me.

"Strip and lay on your stomach now", he said getting up as I hurried and took off all my clothes and laid on my stomach and arch my back so my ass was in the air.

I felt a smack on my ass and I squealed.

"You always wanna disrespect me but I'll show you disrespect tonight", he rubbed his finger between my folds rubbing small circles on my clit. I whined as he removed his hand but gasped as I felt him push his entire dick in me.

"Fuck you so tight", he said groaning as he started to thrust in slowly. I moaned and pushed back on him. He held my hips to stop me from moving and I groaned.

"Faster daddy please", I said which he quickly did. He started pounding me at a god speed. I gripped the sheets and I squealed at how good it felt. My wetness

"YES DADDY. Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop", I said as my toes curled.

He pulled me up and my back was against his chest. He nibbled on my ear and said,"Who the fuck said I was stopping."

He reached down and started rubbing my clit fast. I gripped his risk that was playing with my clit as my vision got blurry. He groaned and said "Damn mama" as I clenched my walls around me.

I said,"Please daddy can I cum."

He rubbed my clit faster and said,"Go ahead and cum around daddy you little slut."

That pushed me over the edge and I came saying,"THANK YOU DADDY."

As I came down from my high and he flipped me over and kept going. I grabbed the sheets trying to pull myself off him but he gripped my hips to keep me in place.

"No don't try to run. I take all your bullshit so you are gonna take this dick"he said going faster in my sensitive cunt.

"Daddy stop please", I said as I felt tears run down my face at the over stimulation I feel. My entire body felt like it was on fire. He reached under me and rubbed my clit. I could help the screams and tears that came out. I clenched around him and before I could stop it I squirted all over his cock and his lower stomach.

"Damn mama that was sexy. You think you can do it again".

I whined knowing I was about to have a hell of a ride.

Four orgasms later and him finishing on my stomach we we're finally done. He pulled out of me and i winced at sensitivity that I felt. He went in the restroom and came out with a white rag and cleaned me and him off. He pulled the covers over us and I laid in his chest as he wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that", I said looking up at him.

"Why do you play with my feelings Y/N. I have told you over and over how much I love you but you act like you feel the same", he said rubbing his finger through my hair.

"My pride. I really do love you it's just easier if I pretend I can be without you but I can't. Tonight alone in my room I thought I was gonna lose my mind the way I missed you. Your smell, your arms, your kiss, your penis", I said as we laughed at the last part.

"So you love me" he said smirking knowing he has me as his now.

"Shut up and go to sleep Jey", I said laughing.

He kissed me and then released my lips and kissed my forehead. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand and we cuddled up and went to sleep.

#jey uso smut #jey uso x reader #jey uso #the bloodline #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #the usos #wwe #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagine #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x black reader #the usos fanfic

[disaster-writes-stuff]

They can't tell that I love you.

Men and minors DNI One of the girls (AU) Warnings: Teacher-student dynamics, age gap, dark theme.

1 P.M You open your eyes. You felt hot and you woke up sweaty. You reach out for your phone but it’s not there.

Panic sets inWhere is it

MY PHONE You get up in your bed and start looking around frantically Oh It’s on the table being charged. Your room is cleaned up. You know that you can be drunk enough to jump off a bridge but not drunk enough to clean. You try to recall last night's events 12..18 vodka shots216 $Goddamn that's too much how drunk was Then, a girl with red hair in a silver dress touched me. Natasha. No that wasn't real. Drinking water. Hitting head on the nightstandSleepingDrooling

Dreaming about Natasha You couldn't recall coming home, changing clothes, cleaning your house. You open the gallery to check for pictures but none. You open your camera to check your makeup. It's removed and you can smell your  moisturizer You certainly didn't do skincare You get up and go to the kitchen for water. The whole house is clean. The dishes are done. The clothes are folded. And there's a wig and huge sunglasses by the table next to the foyer door. Those aren't yours. You pick them up and smell them. Gucci. Flora. You were sure of it. You loved per fumes and you were a pro at recognizing them. The scent was familiar but you couldn't remember. You go to your dresser and there's a note.

“Hey, stranger! We met at the bar, remember?----. See you again soon. Take care! Love Lilah” Silver dress. It must be that girl who touched me. Nice of her. She carried me home. So she probably used the wigs and the glasses? Next to her note is a strip of anti-hangover pills with one tab empty. That explains not feeling the hangover.

You pick up a pair of shorts and a tank top to go take a bath. On the sink is a strand of red hair. It’s probably Lilah’s. I need to thank her. I have probably seen her at university. It’s Saturday and you have 3 assignments pending. After you take a bath you chug water and decide to take a walk to that cafe and get something to eat. Your frequent visits made you develop a taste for the food there. You also bonded with Wanda. She was sweet and kind and always managed to strike up a conversation. It's Saturday so you probably won't see Natasha there. You decide not to change out of your outfit and just apply some lip balm, put on Crocs, and leave your hair as it is. You run a hand through it to fix it in place. You grab your phone, lock the apartment, and leave. The world is a much better place to live when you sleep 8+ hours of sleep and are hydrated. The walk was beautiful. You noticed the sunshine but stuck to walking in the shade of the trees since you had no SPF on. You forget about everything, enter the cafe, and walk up to the counter. As you're ordering a big salad and iced tea you see some red hair in the corner of your eyes. And the sound of someone clearing their throat Oh thank god wanda is here I won't feel alone.Over the days you and Wanda came on a first-name basis since she didn't teach you. You turn around and your heart sinks. It’s Natasha You gasped and remembered your outfit. It had to be the worst one. A faded tank top and shorts. Plus the Crocs and socks. Also the messy hair You could've died right there. She smiles at you as if something is funny. Probably the gasp Oh god.Why do you hate me x2 The audible gasp and the way you stiffened upon seeing her. Your hair in its natural state looked adorable to her Your bare face which showed your blush very obviously and the glossy lip balm on your lips. Adorable. She could push you on the counter and take you-

No.Not yet. “Hey, how are you,” she said with the most shit-eating grin across her face. This is what she wanted. To see you in your natural habitat where you're not putting up a front for her. The way you didn't expect her and she was right there. That's what she wanted. Otherwise, she didn't like how you always acted like a pouty little bitch to get her attention. ‘What are you doing here on a Saturday” “I was getting lunch and came here on a walk” You awkwardly positioned your hands behind you on the counter. Natasha was very close to you with your back fully against the counter. “Well same” “Y/n? Is there some y/n here? Your order is ready” You immediately turn around and grab your order. Natasha inches even closer. Her pelvis is almost touching your ass. You smoothly slip out of the gap and give her an awkward smile. “Natasha? Your order is ready” says the man at the counter. “Oh, what a coincidence. Come sit with me” “Uh- sure” She grabs your hand and sits you down at the seat across from her. She places your iced tea gingerly in front of you she smiles at you and for some reason, the fight in you and the tough front is completely gone. “So. what have you been up to” she asks “Oh, nothing. Assignments. I spent my entire night working on it” Liar “Aw c'mon don't lie to me” “No, really I spent a lot of time on it “Oh, then it must be good. Which assignment were you doing exactly?” “UM-...the..Kafka one’ “Oh great. Mind if I have a listen?” “Listen? What” you were caught. “Oh, you know. The assignment was that you record a part of his work and narrate it in your style while explaining” Natasha was lying too, The assignment was to read some of Kafka's work and write observations. She just wanted to test you. For funzies. “Oh- that’s not. My phone was running out of storage so the audio file is on my laptop” “Smart. But have you not gone out at all?” “Nope. just studying and working” You stammer on your words and lie to appear squeaky clean to her. She found every single thing about you adorable “Oh! By the way, Natash- Ms. Romanoff I have a question” She chuckled at how you almost said her name. “Yes, what is it?” “Do you know any lilah? Does she have red hair? Or like any red-haired girl you've seen around the university?” “I know Lilah but I'm unsure if she has red hair. How do you know? Why do you ask?” That made Natasha’s heart jump. “At the library. I met this girl who was wearing a silver dress and had red hair. I passed out. Dehydration I think? She dropped me home and cleaned my room. Funny story right” “A girl at the library in a silver dress? clean your room? y/n, are you okay?” she laughs out. “Yeah-” “y/n it's ok you don't have to lie. I know you went out somewhere last night. I saw your Instagram story. Nice dress by the way.” You awkwardly look down in shame. “I don't eat students for going out, you know. I caught your lie when you said you ‘recorded’ your assignment. You could've just said you were drunk and a kind girl dropped you home and you want to know her and thank her” “Y-yeah that. I’m sorry” “It's okay Malysh. I'll try to hunt down a red-haired Lilah for you. But you shouldn't pay much attention honestly. Girls are very supportive and I'm glad you made it home safe.” You and Natasha chatted for an hour at least, the conversation felt natural. You eventually forget about your outfit. The weekend passed and surprisingly you did all your assignments.--------------------------

You wake up at 6:30 am. Go for a run because Natasha mentioned she goes for a run. And you in the spur of the moment said you do too. You come back from your run, take a bath, and have breakfast  You pick out some black flared leggings and a sweatshirt. You apply mascara, lip gloss, and SPF and leave for college. You enter the class and there is a girl in your seat. “Hey um this is my seat,” you say . She wore a cute outfit. “Oh sorry. I am Lottie.” “Hi Rhea this is my seat” “I don't see your name on it” Bitch “Listen. Ms. Romanoff told me specifically to sit here, please move” “Why? She's bangin’ you?” That made your blood boil. You were furious. So much for your day being ruined by this A grade cunt. Natasha enters the class and the minute she sees your face she knows something going on “Hey, what's going on?” Natasha enters in a panicked state upon seeing the mini brawl take place.

You turn to her with glossy eyes and a clear look of anger. “Miss Romanoff? I'm a new student and she says she needs the first seat. Will you please let me sit here it's my first day” she said trying to act all cute Sure, you were Natasha's favorite but as a professor, she couldn't let her favoritism toward you show now. “y/n, honey, why don't you sit on the next bench hm? What got you so worked up, what'd she say to you?” “Miss Romanoff I simply jokingly asked her why she is so adamant about sitting here, is it because you are banging her?” she said the last bit loudly, and all the other students in the classroom turned to look at the three of you “Well first of all Lottie,  I asked y/n not you. Secondly, that's a very inappropriate remark about your peer and professor. This is a warning. I don't like individuals like you to act up” she said as she placed a hand on your lower back while guiding you to your seat. This was her way of letting Lottie get the message.

Lottie’s mouth felt agape as she saw Natasha touch you. Then she saw the smirk on Natasha's face. Throughout the lecture. Natasha's eyes were fixated on you. She kept checking to make sure how you were doing. After the lecture, you immediately had to leave for another period. You pack your things, smile at Natasha, and leave. After the lecture, Rhea got up from her desk and went to Natasha. She made sure everyone left. “Hey Miss Romanoff?” “Yes Lottie what is it,” she said annoyed “I wanted to ask you something” She bends forward on the desk exposing her cleavage

‘Yes, Lottie. what.is.it?” “I was wondering if you are willing to offer me extra lessons? Y'know. Just us?”

“You have gotta be a real stupid person for wanting extra classes in literature. This isn't high school math. Lottie you chose this subject. Now deal with your consequences” “But Miss Romanoff you give extra lessons to y/n” Natasha's eyes shot up at her giving her a deathly stare. “I already told you, you're being inappropriate. I have all the rights to drop you as a student and transfer you to another class. My limit for each lecture is 45 students. You're the 47th one” “Then drop y/n too” “You and the student on the last bench are getting dropped. y/n and the others were the first to sign up and get allotted to my class” “Ah, I see she wants to bang you THAT bad” She leans closer to Lottie. And whispers in her ear “Yeah so? Are you jealous?” She pulls back and leaves the classroom. Lottie feels burnt to her core. Although Lottie had a girlfriend. She couldn't help but think her girlfriend's sister was hotter. Yelena was Lottie's girlfriend.

#natasha romanoff #marvel #wanda maximoff #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #lesbian #marvel cinematic universe #teacher x student #natasha romanov #x reader #marvel wlw

[niki-phoria]

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff ?? hurt comfort ?? word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was just supposed to be fluff with chishiya and kuina on the beach bc we were ROBBED of chishiya and kuina interactions in s2 but it turned into this

warnings: s1 spoilers, probably inaccurate descriptions of the shibuya subway system/the subway lines, semi canon (??)

“how is your hair so soft?” you ask, pulling chishiya’s hair back and tying it into a small ponytail. he simply hums, flipping the piece of paper to look at it from another angle. next to you, kuina chuckles. 

“do you have a secret conditioner stash we don’t know about?” 

“maybe it’s a wig,” you tease. you can barely hear chishiya’s scoff over kuina’s laugh, bringing a hand up to gesture for you to sit down next to him. he flips the slip of paper again, trying to make sense of it. a circle drawn in black pen with lines around and through it. they almost look like scribbles. you sigh, sitting down next to him and leaning over his shoulder to see it better. “you got this from a game, right?” 

“during tag. it was on one of the tagger’s bodies.” 

“did you find out who the taggers were?” 

“no, i only saw one. she was another player with one of those exploding collars on.” 

“so if the taggers were also players, then why did she have the paper?” 

“what are you thinking, y/n?” kuina asks, leaning closer. 

“what if she got it from the creators? why else would she have a random piece of paper inside of a suit?” 

chishiya nods. “it was in one of the pockets. it’s possible she didn’t know about it at all and it was placed there by the creators.” 

“but that still goes back to the same question we had before. if it was from the creators, what does it mean?” kuina sighs dramatically, laying her head down on her crossed arms. 

“they have to have some way of watching us. otherwise they wouldn’t know who cleared the games and when.” 

“that means they know we have this,” chishiya lifts the paper, holding it closer to the light. “it has to be important, or they wouldn’t have left it in the tagger’s suit.” 

“they must not be worried about us having it, or they would’ve killed you after you took it.” 

chishiya hums again, setting the paper down on the table. music rages outside despite the late hour. you yawn, leaning your head against chishiya’s shoulder. he grunts, but doesn’t move away from you. “it’s late. we should get some rest.” 

“ah,” kuina sighs, rubbing her eyes. “that’s a good idea. sleep is good.” chishiya refolds the paper, shoving it into his pocket. he wraps an arm around your waist, urging you to stand up. 

“come on, let’s go to bed.” you lazily nod, grabbing onto his arm and following him to your shared room. 

it’s dusk out as you walk through the empty tokyo streets.your shoulder barely brushes against chishiya’s. the night is oddly serene, wind chilling your bones. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, silently cursing the beach for making you wear swim trunks everywhere you go. your knees beg you to sit down somewhere and take a break, still covered in bruises from your spades game earlier. the silence is welcome as you pass into shibuya. nostalgia plagues you as you continue. 

the subway is eerie at night, opening to a dark abyss. “there might be something down there,” you say, gesturing to the opening. chishiya simply hums, leaning back against the railing. you retreat back up the steps, deciding to explore it when you can actually see where you’re going, joining him. the details of the map are barely visible next to the stairs but you study it anyway. “you know, i used to take this subway everyday,” you murmur. 

“yeah?” chishiya watches as you lean closer to the map, tracing your finger along one of the lines. 

“yeah. rode on the yamanote line into work.” silence envelops the both of you for a few seconds until you cock your head, leaning even closer. “do you have a flashlight or a lighter or anything?” 

“here,” chishiya hands a flashlight out for you to take. 

“thanks.” now with light illuminating the sign, chishiya steps closer to stand beside you. he lets his arm rest comfortably around your waist, watching you. 

“do you see something?” 

“can i have the paper with the circle?” he pulls it out of his pocket, handing it to you. you press it against the sign, moving it on the map so it’s next to the circle indicating the shibuya station. next to each other, the lines align to show the station surrounded by nearby streets. “huh.” 

“there must be something inside,” chishiya whispers. 

“let’s come back tomorrow with kuina.” he nods, pulling you away from the subway opening. 

“we should get back to the beach before people start asking questions.” 

the city doesn’t look that much different in the daylight. grass has begun to grow along the buildings at a rapid pace, though you pay it no mind. the sun beams down on you as you make your way back to shibuya in search of the subway. 

“you’re sure about this?” kuina turns to ask you. 

“the lines look the same,” you shrug. “it’s worth checking out, at least.” she gives you an uneasy look before nodding, following after chishiya. 

the subway is still dark once you arrive. chishiya hands you a flashlight before you hesitantly begin to make your way down the stairs. the station is empty inside. light from your flashlight bounces along the walls as you search for anything. chishiya nudges you gently, pointing his light towards something to your right. “there’s a door over there.” 

“i guess it doesn’t hurt to look,” kuina shrugs. you jump down onto the tracks, following them to the door. 

“it says it’s for maintenance,” you say, gently pushing it open. “woah.” 

“what is it?” kuina asks, following you in.

inside is a group of desks and chairs. the walls are circular, covered in monitors from top to bottom. you shine your light along them, taking it in. chishiya closes the door behind you, searching through the files and paperwork on the tables. 

“there could be something here,” he says. you nod, breaking your attention away from the monitors to search through the cabinets. 

“it looks like they have files on all of the players,” kuina says, thumbing through a variety of manilla folders. “there have to be hundreds of these.” 

“they must be keeping track of everyone.” you pull one of them out, skimming through the information. kato suzuko. female. 34 years old. 15 days in the borderland. deceased - one week. “these files are new. this woman died last week.” 

“we should go.” you help kuina shove the files back into their place, quickly shutting the door behind you and rushing out of the station. a familiar feeling of dead settles itself into the bottom of your stomach as you grab onto chishiya’s hand, walking back to the beach. 

you anxiously crack your knuckles as chishiya fiddles with an empty soda container, creating another bomb. he glances up at you for a second before sighing, setting the mess of wires aside and walking over to you. he grabs your hand before sitting next to you. “what’s wrong?” 

you sigh, turning to face him and pulling your knees up to your chest. “those files… there were so many of them. how many people have died here? how many more will die here?” 

chishiya intertwines your fingers together, stroking his thumb against your skin. your hand feels cold in his. “you didn’t choose to come here. you had no way of preventing those deaths.” 

“but what about the people here now? people have died so i could live. it feels like…” you look down, desperately trying to blink away the tears in your eyes. you’re sure you look weak, crying about people you never knew. never will know. “it feels like i killed them.” 

chishiya pauses, lifting your head so you’re looking up at him. he silently moves his hand to your cheek, wiping away stray tears. chishiya has never been the best at comforting people, especially with words. but he’s also never felt like this for someone before. he wants to take you back to the old world, where you don’t have to worry about death games and gun-wielding maniacs and untrustworthy people and all of the other cruel things he knows exist all around you. he wants to protect you from everyone who wants to hurt you. he wants to know exactly what to say to make you feel better. he wants to be able to tell you things the way you’re able to talk to him. 

but he doesn’t know how to do any of that. so instead he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you cry. he presses a kiss to your forehead, rubbing a hand against your back. “none of this is your fault,” he whispers. “we’ll be okay. i promise.” 

chishiya holds you until you stop crying, clinging to him as if he’ll disappear. he lets you push him down so he’s laying on his back with your head leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. he runs a hand against your back, bomb long forgotten on the table. “i love you,” he whispers. 

you bring his other hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. “i love you too.”

#chishiya fluff #chishiya x reader #chishiya x male reader #aib x male reader #aib x reader #aib fluff #alice in borderland #chishiya #aib chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya fanfic #chishiya drabble #chishiya imagine #chishiya hurt comfort #aib hurt comfort #aib imagine #aib drabble #aib scenario #chishiya scenario #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland x male reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x y/n #chishiya x you #alice in borderland x you #alice in borderland x y/n #aib x you #aib x y/n #late post my bad #male reader

[rose-lord-of-simps]

Obey Me Brothers Help Brush your Hair

I have super curly hair that takes forever to brush and sometimes it is a two man job. So what if the Obey me brothers saw you struggling to brush your hair and asked if you needed help?

Gender neutral reader!

This also totally wasn’t inspired by thoughts of Keigo Takami’s wings needing preening and asking for help with that- what? No I don’t simp- what nooooooooooo (it’s a good day to be sarcastic)

Written mostly in the POV of someone with straight hair or curls but the curls are wet for brushing.

Lucifer

It’s bed time.

It’s late, he’s tired, his work is finally done for the day and you wanted to wait up for him.

He walks in to his room, expecting to just flop on the bed and pass out, but instead sees you brushing through your hair more aggressively than Mammon is a tsundere

He’s tired and just wants to snuggle.

But he knows he isn’t getting any snuggles until your hair is done.

He doesn’t ask he just takes the brush from you and sits behind you silently.

This man- is so- gentle?

Like- he will be as rough as he pleases with you in almost every other scenario...

But right now, he has a task and a goal in mind, and his only focus is to brush hair and sleep.

He starts at the bottom and works his way through your hair with the brush and is so careful not to hurt you.

It’s strangely therapeutic for him?

Repetitive motion that is incredibly satisfying, a peaceful silence, and wonderful company.

If you start conversation he’ll talk a bit but he is focused.

He got his snuggles.

Mammon

He had a new scheme in mind and bursts in your room to get you to join him

He sees you struggling to brush your hair and he kinda just asks if you’re okay at first.

Like that looks PAINFUL. (BEACSUE IT IS)

He’s getting flashbacks to when Belphie was younger and didn’t take care of his hair but also refused to cut it short. Mammon was the one who had to forcibly hold him down and brush his hair.

He just grabs a second brush and starts on the other half of your head.

“Stupid human. Don’t worry, The Great Mammon knows what he’s doing and will graciously help you.”

It’s easier to brush hair when he doesn’t have to wrestle a thrashing demon.

He takes his time, apologizing if he hurts you.

100% is able to hold conversation easily as he does your hair.

Kinda like one of those hair stylists in salons that can do hair while chatting up a storm at the same time

Will braid it if you ask him to.

He likes running his fingers through your hair when it’s done if it is straight and if it isn’t he likes to give head scratches

Leviathan

He had a new game to show you! It was super cute and the story is something he knows you’ll like.

He knocks before coming in your room, because he knows the pain of mammon not knocking, and sees you brushing your hair as if it harmed you.

He just shows you the game, no immediate intention to help with your hair.

He isn’t going to offer, you’re going to have to ask.

He will blush so red though so it’s worth it because he’s cute

He styles cosplay wigs and sometimes they get super gross so he has to try and fix it without ripping out the hair.

Basically, he knows what he’s doing.

He’ll stutter and blush the whole time but he’ll grab the brush and work through your hair like an expert, he might accidentally pull a little too hard sometimes but he’ll apologize and ease up.

Eventually he relaxes and is able to hold up a conversation as he brushes your hair.

He will admit it’s a bit of an arm work out though.

He’ll help you style it as well, getting flowers and clips for your hair.

Satan

He was just trying to get the book you borrowed that’s all.

He didn’t mean to walk in on you bent over in an awkward position just to brush your hair. (Just me who does this?)

For a second he thinks you look nice like, even better with his d-

He can’t help but laugh though.

What did your hair do to you?

He is another one who you have to ask to help

Your arm is tired and his are nice and strong- but his hair is silky and short he’s probably never had to do hair in his life.

If you ask he will help, taking the brush from you. He is a rougher son your hair than the others, not realizing his strength.

He does know how to French braid though! He’s seen Asmo do is enough

Asmo

Wanted to do hair together and just finished brushing his own, he lets no one else but his stylist touch his hair.

He sees you struggling and gets genuinely concerned for the health of your hair.

Waits for you to ask but oh boy is he ready and willing-

He sits you down in front of his vanity and praises you the whole time

Tells you how gorgeous your natural hair is and how it feels so nice

Is the most gentle with you, it almost feels like he is putting the brush through butter when he is done

He knows how to do all kinds of styles! So many braids and different pigtails-

He also uses some of his own special curl cream on your hair if he feels you need it.

Kisses you silly when he’s done, this kind of thing is like therapy for him as well, taking care of someone he cares so much about in such a wholesomely intimate manner

Beel

He’s waiting on your bed for you to be done so ya’ll can go to dinner

He’s just munching on some chips and staring at the ceiling until he hears you curse at a particularly hard knot.

You’re taking too long on this task and he wants real food.

He grabs the brush out of your hand and just wordlessly does it for you.

He isn’t super gentle but he isn’t yanking your hair out of your skull on every pull either

He doesn’t totally enjoy it but he like to hear you talk while he works

He has an unusually large amount of muscle so his arms won’t tire so easily from it

He has no clue what to do when it comes to styling though

When he is finally done brushing it, he hands it back to you with a proud smile and ready to go get a food reward for his hard work

Only after does he realize he has to wait another 10 minutes at least for you to finish styling it.

Belphie

He doesn’t help willingly

Mans was napping before you came in asking for help

He wants to continue that nap.

He transforms into his demon form and uses his tail to hold the brush and do it

He falls asleep half way through

You end up having to brush it anyway

But you smell so nice and look so warm that he pulls you in for a nap with him

He grumbles and lets go after a few minutes of whining and shifting because

“Come back when your hair is done”

#obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me asmodeus #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #asmodeus x you #asmo x y/n #mammon x reader #mammon x y/n #mammon x you #levi x mc #levi x y/n #levi x you #satan x mc #satan x you #satan x y/n #beel x y/n #beel x you #beel x mc #belphie x reader #belphie x y/n #belphie x you #belphie x mc

[boliv-jenta]

Dieter Bravo x f!reader (from my Wardrobe Universe)

Inspired by this post.

Warnings: Smut. P in v sex.

"Dieter!" Your voice was low and warning as if you were telling off a wet dog who was getting ready to jump on the sofa.

It was fitting really, with those puppy dog eyes pleading with you from the bottom of the stairs. You'd be invited to an SNL Halloween party as Dieter was becoming quite the regular. You were all ready to go until Dieter laid eyes on your costume for the first time as you descended the stairs. Going dressed as one of his characters had seemed like a good idea until you saw the look on Dieter's face.

"Dieter! Really? You can't be serious?! I purposely stayed away from all the tiny, slutty versions of every single costume you could think of. I even saw a slutty tree costume, for God's sake. I am covered from head to toe in an unflattering outfit…." You trialled off as he walked towards you as if in a trance. His sword was dropped to the floor with a dull clatter. The pteruges around his thighs swung as he walked giving you a tasty peek of his muscle legs. Of all the outfits he'd worn for a movie, his gladiator armour was fast becoming your favourite. It afforded you quite the view, like at that moment, you could see the outline of his cock straining against the front.

Like a deer in headlights, you a

weren't sure where to go. You resigned yourself to the fact that you were going to be late to the party because Dieter would need to fuck you at least once before you leave. Do you go back up the stairs? Walk down to meet him?

Your question is answered when Dieter meets you. His needy hands grab your ass through the cheap material of your pants suit. "I need you now. Here."

Dieter's professional reputation was far from what it once was. If he was late now people knew it must be for a very good reason. Letting your Gladiator husband fuck you on the stairs was a very good reason indeed. "Will you keep the outfit on?"

"I just assumed we would."

"Really? The gray wig and everything?"

"Yep." Dieter eagerly lifted the skirt of his outfit showing that he did very much like the outfit even without the hint of slutty-ness.

"I thought Gladiators wore underwear."

"Not this one. Come here."

Dieter managed to turn you on the stairs without either of you falling to have you kneel in front of him. The sensible pink trousers were pulled down over your ass as Dieter gently bite into the exposed skin.

"Dieter!"

"Sorry, Baby. You just drive me crazy."

"Again, in this outfit?!"

"What can I say? Mrs Flores is a babe."

Thinking back to how sexy you'd found Dieter's confidence and comedy timing during his time as Mrs Flores, you had to agree.

Your body jerked at the sensation of Dieter's spit hitting your folds before the head of his cock swiped through it to circle your clit.

"Oh, Di. Are there any other costumes you'd like me to wear?" You moan as the tip of him rubs against you over and over.

"You could wear anything and I'd still find you sexy. Ohh." Dieter took his time sliding inside you.

No matter how many times he did over the last four years, which was a whole lot, it still felt as good as the first time. Knowing that you couldn't be too late, Dieter picked up his pace. Reaching around, he made to grab your tits only to get a handful of a comically foam stuffed bra. He made a little disgruntled noise before shoving his hand up your shirt to cup your real breast.

"That's better." He groaned.

His fingers flicking against your nipple and his cock stuffing you impossibly full had you coming until you body was pliant you worried you might slide all the way down the stairs. Dieter held you up as he came, muttering absolute filth into your now displaced wig.

The two of you made a half hearted attempt to pull your clothes back into place as you came down from your shared high.

The two of you lay awkwardly on the stairs until your breathing sounded relatively normal in the quiet of the house.

Eventually, Dieter broke the silence "Tell me more about the slutty tree costume."

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #halloween fic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader

[1-800-local-slut]

I’m rewatching season 9 of Supernatural and it’s making me crave Cas fics. Maybe something where the reader met him as Steve but now he’s back to full angel mojo

Can I Get A Large Slushie?

Season 9 Castiel x Black! Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, heartbreak (on readers end), reader and Cas don't end up together romantically, it's more so an experience, i don't know why I can't write Cas that way but I think he's literally just too majestic for me. He's also weirdly hard for me to write so I'm sorry this isn't one of my better works

1.7k words

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also sorry this took so long, I got really busy </3

She could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The cold afternoon breeze that blew over her arms that night. The night when it was the beginning of everything she ever knew changed.

Drunk tears streamed down her face, her white dress a muddled mess around her lower body. It was supposed to be her night. It was supposed to be for her, with her friends and family all there to celebrate her engagement. Yet, after half an hour, her ex-fiance was caught with his pants around his ankles and buried in her aunt Nella. All she could do was run. She ran out of that party like a bat out of hell. Where was she even going? Perhaps her location was the gas station.

She ran, until she abandoned her heels in her purse, her flask was empty and the Sun had long since set behind her.

Then she was there. Tipsy, depressed and at a gas station. Mascara streamed down her dark skin in big gooey chunks, and she wanted to rip off her false lashes. Even her wig was bothering her. A chilled breeze blew through the night sky, and she shivered. Rubbing her arms up and down her soft skin she looked up through tear filled lashes at the glowing sign.

If there was any place to wait for her Uber, she supposed it was better than the street. The door felt cold against her bare arms. Looking back, it was a cold night. That night gave her a distinct fondness for the cold. The AC blasted over her, as she looked around. The whiteness of the room blinded her. She called her Uber, probably the least important aspect of her night. She saw him then.

He was standing near the slushie machine, he was certainly handsome. Tall, with brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and pink lips. Perhaps if she wasn’t spending unnecessary time worrying about a man who cracked her heart in two, she would’ve taken a chance with him. 

Sliding next to him, she glanced down at her phone again ‘Mickey, 8 minutes away’. How she wished she had more than those eight minutes. 

“Is there something you need ma’am?” The voice startled her. She wasn’t expecting him to speak, in her 29 years of living she can’t really remember ever speaking to a gas station attendant.

“Yeah…can I get a large slushie?” She slurred and hiccuped. Oh what a fool she made of herself! If she could go back, she would’ve gone in there perfectly sober and asked for more than a slushie from him.

“Sure, you know if you mix 50% red and 50% blue together it’ll make a perfect shade of purple? Most people end up with either too much red or blue, so if we fill it up to the top of the ‘e’ with the first color, it’ll be a perfect 50%, and the rest will make it a perfect mix.” He enthused, pulling out a cup but dropping a few more on the ground. She flailed in an attempt to grab them, and she followed suit. After a few ungraceful moments her slushie was being poured, half red and half blue. Then, he (with a shocking amount of enthusiasm) shook up her drinking and placed a gorgeous colored concoction.

Maybe it was the liquor that did her in. The liquor that brought tears to her eyes, and made her start to cry once more.

“This is the nicest thing ever, thank you…” with a squint, she leaned in and read his name tag. “Steve. That’s a nice name, I knew a guy named Steve once. He was great, you know. He was a nice guy, dude smelled funky though.” With a pathetic whimper, Steve chuckled and led her away to the cash register. 

For some reason, her heart thumped in her chest. Perhaps from the copious amounts of casamigos thrumming through her blood. 

“Well hopefully, he smells better now.” Steve chuckled and she took a long and hard sip from her slushie, the cold freezing over her pained heart. With a swipe of her credit card, her slushie was paid for.

“I hope you have a better night than you’ve been having so far.” Steve grinned widely and she chuckled. A smile came over her sore features. How tired she was. Even talking hurt but in her drunken state it was all she wanted to do.

“Why thank you Steve, you’re such a sweetie pie! Oh but my night can’t get better. My life can’t either.” She sighed, laying her arm and head onto the counter. She can still recall Steve’s blue eyes glancing over her face.

“My fiance, or ex, or uncle or something. He plowed my aunt at our engagement party. Sure she’s only like six years older, but that’s still so weird. He already had me, who goes for a downgrade? Here I am. Sad, drunk, kind of sleepy. This slurpee is really good, thank you so much.” Her rant left her out of breath. He really was an angel, to listen to her depressing details of her life. A sigh that seemingly deflated her body made Steve rest his chin on his hands.

“Huh…I’m sorry that happened to you.” The response was earnest.

“I’m sorry it happened to me too.” Whipping tears from her eyes, and the streaks of mascara from her eyes. Her phone buzzed, ‘Mickey has arrived’.

“My Uber’s here.” She swallowed another giant gulp of her slushie.

“Okay, have a nice night!” Steve waved as the woman blinked in confusion, pushing herself off the countertop. 

“You’re a very cheerful gentleman.” She waved back with a giggle and stumbled off into the night.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time she saw him, it was two weeks later. She went back to the store, craving yet another perfect slushie, and exhausted from the moving process. After kicking her ex to the curb, she was finally completely moved out. A nice little apartment that she’d spend the next three years off her life in even though she didn’t know it yet. 

Pushing open the door, the AC blasted against her warm skin once more.Her beeline to the slushie machine was quick, and before she knew it she was faced to face with Steve again.

“Hello there Steve.” He turned around, and grinned at her with a level of excitement someone who loved their job could have.

“Good afternoon, how are you doing today?” He asked her. Something about him drew her in. What was it though? Was it his generosity? Was it his simple naivety? No, but what was it?

“I’m doing just fine.” With a chuckle, she swiped her card. And feeling brand new from just being near Steve for some reason, she went on about her day.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

It had gotten to the point where if you cut her open, she would’ve bled that delicious purple she’d been consuming on a near daily basis. Their conversations, about essentially nothing, were just filled with sweet nothings. It was like speaking to a person with a pure view. For a moment, just a moment each day, it cleared her mind of all the pain she’d been forced to endure. Until one day, Steve’s innocent glee was missing. 

“Are you alright Steve?” She asked, while grabbing a pack of gum while she shook her cup around.

“I’m just thinking. Can I ask you something?” He took the gum from her and ran it over the scanner. Taking it back, she pulled out six dollars and prepared for her change.

“Sure, I’ve asked you plenty of questions.” 

“When you know you belong somewhere else doing something else, but you’re forced to be something you don’t want to be, what do you do?” A silence settled between the two of them. 

“I think you should do what you’re meant to do the best way you can. Even if you can’t do it the same way anymore.” She responded, sliding her gum into her purse.

“I think so too.” He gave her a tight lipped smile and a small wave goodbye. It was the last time for a while that she would see Steve.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time it was six weeks later. Life moved on of course. She still had slushie’s just not as often. Without Steve, there was no point in going every day. Still her heart couldn’t forget him. Nothing ever happened between the two. Nothing more than thoughtful and absent minded conversations. Still he left some sort of gap in her heart.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

“Hi there, my name is Jack Matherson, this is my partner David Kendall. We’re detectives looking into the break in across the street, may we come in?” But when she saw ‘David’ her entire world melted. Instead it was Steve. At her flower shop, standing next to a very handsome man. 

“Sure…sure of course you can.” The two stepped in, and Steve or David or whatever his name was seemed to barely notice her. There he was right there, and this entire time she had been wondering where he had gone. What had happened to that silly guy from the gas station? Now here he was, a very well dressed cop in a trench coat.

He looked far more serious now, as if he was intent on whatever his mission was. Even the air around him felt far more cleansing. More so like whatever she had done in her life was judged and forgiven in his presence. He walked around absentmindedly, whispering to his green eyed partner. For a fast moment, they made eye contact.

“Hello there, it’s good to see you again.” She swallowed thickly. Was his voice always so gruff? Was this the thing he wanted to do the best way he could? It seemed like it, the way he was so domineering in the strangest way.

“You too.” With a quick nod, she slipped away into the back. Now she curses herself, for running away from someone who made her feel so oddly full. Not complete, but like a part of her was added, one that she never even knew she wanted.

Now, she was slurping on a large slurpee, her tongue staining purple and she sat on her window sill. Years later, she still thinks about him. She still thinks about how his energy brought many changes. Something about him illuminated something…untouchable? Unique. No, divine. Divine was the only word that could be used to describe the feeling that the presence of Steve brought. 

Now she was sitting at her window sill, slurpy finished, and missing that feeling and her Steve more than anything.

#x black reader #black reader #x reader #fem reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #castiel #supernatural x you #castiel x reader #castiel x you

[abeautylives]

Trip Around the Sun - The Epilogue

a/n: If you’ve made it this far, THANK YOU! I really loved writing this little miniseries so if it made its way to you and you enjoyed it, thank you thank you thank you.

Series Masterlist

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: 3k this part

summary: A vacation fling that ended in heartbreak. How far will you go to put the pieces back together?

warnings: Absolutely none other than some language

Six Months Later

I do not need this shit today.

Your boss has been riding your ass particularly hard this week, but today it’s taken the form of email after email, requests for quarterly reports, calendar invites to meetings you won’t even get to speak during. Why did she wait until Friday to lay all this shit on you? The incessant ding from your computer with each incoming notification is giving you a migraine. You let your eyes drop to the bottom right corner of your screen.

11:47am. Fuck it.

You clock out for your lunch break unannounced, grab your bag and your phone and make your way toward the elevator. No one so much as raises their head in notice of you, but you avoid their eyes over the walls of their cubicles anyway.

The midsummer heat envelops you as soon as you step out onto the sidewalk, a welcome change from the frigid conditioned air inside the office building, your headache easing up instantly. Bypassing a Starbucks on the way, you pop into your preferred coffee bar, a cozy local spot with better drinks and far superior food. From behind the counter, the barista greets you by name and asks if you’re having your usual, but you turn down the hot drink in favor of something iced.

The second the heavily caffeinated liquid hits your tongue, you can feel the remnants of your headache melting away. You find a lone seat outside on their shaded patio, sipping your drink as you pull out your phone to scroll mindlessly for the next forty-five minutes.

You’re doing exactly that, flipping your thumb over the screen as your For You page flashes past, pausing occasionally to watch a video in its entirety. Every five or six videos or so, the same song starts to play, something that’s trending but that you don’t recognize, so you flip past it. Over, and over, and over again until you realize you’ve heard it nearly ten times.

Your thumb moving now of its own volition, you swipe another video away as that same song starts. This time, you bring it back to you with a downward pull.

The screen is split, your eyes first drawn to the person on the left who’s definitely wearing a ridiculous wig and mouthing along to the words of the song, an acoustic guitar strumming the tune that’s vaguely familiar to you now that you’ve heard its beginnings so many times. You let your focus slip to the right, the video that the creator is clearly imitating, and your phone slides from your fingers. It hits the edge of the bistro table and bounces, landing face up on the ground at your feet, the song still playing as the video runs on a loop.

There’s no fucking way.

You scramble to scoop your phone from the bricks, the screen undamaged and his face on full display.

His face.

It looks different than the face in your memory, younger maybe, softer at the edges that you remember being sharp, defined. Maybe it’s the lack of facial hair.

The video plays on and you can’t stop watching it, again and again, eyes focusing on a different part of him with every loop. The way his plump lips move over those obscenely perfect teeth, the way his eyes sparkle as he lifts them though you can’t see the exact shade of his irises, the way his curls look almost exactly as you remember them, despite the ways he’d changed. The way he drops his head and his jaw flexes, that is very familiar to you.

Josh.

What the fuck is this?

You’d been so stunned at the sight of him that nothing else had truly registered, but now your eyes are bouncing around the screen. He’s singing. Is he a singer? What the hell is he wearing?

What is this?

Greta Van Fleet. The words tumble over themselves in your mind as if they're in a language unknown to you. The tags on the video capture your attention.

#gretavanfleet #gvf #snl

Saturday Night Live? You’re about to dive into a Google search when you catch the time at the top corner of your screen. Shit.

Coffee in hand, you speed walk back to your office building, eyes still trained on your phone’s screen. It’s a miracle that you haven’t tripped or mowed someone over as you’re stuck scrolling, your first entry into the search bar being what you assume is a band name.

Rock band from Michigan

Kiszka brothers, twins Josh and Jake

Kiszka. Josh Kiszka.

He’s fucking famous.

The rest of your work day passes in a blur of emails and reports, your focus effectively obliterated by what you’ve discovered. You actively have to resist searching for him on your company computer, your fingertips itching to type in his name, so you settle for putting in your AirPods and pulling up their discography on Spotify.

Unfortunately, the sound of his voice, nothing like the voice that spoke so many beautiful words against your skin, sucks the air from your lungs until you feel like you might actually have a panic attack. You wrench the AirPods from your ears and throw them back into your bag.

Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

The door of your apartment slams behind you, your bag and keys tossed to the ancient hardwood and heels kicked aside within seconds. You can’t be bothered to change out of your clothes, tossing your blazer aside as you enter your bedroom and hiking your pencil skirt up over your thighs as you sit cross legged in your bed, laptop already pulled to rest in front of you.

His name is typed into your browser as soon as you flip it open, and within seconds you learn more about him than you did in all the hours spent together. His birthdate, his hometown, his middle fucking name. This almost feels invasive, like you’re suddenly privy to information that should be secret, yet here it is for all the world to see. You open the Images tab and hold back a sob, a hand flying over your mouth to capture it.

Before today, you’ve never seen a picture of him. There’s a barrage of them on your screen, ranging from what must be a few years old to what you assume are current, his appearance so similar to that of your memories. Clicking on one to enlarge it, your fingertips leave your lips and trace over the image of his. You feel a hot tear slip free and roll down your cheek.

You’d love to say you had boarded that plane and simply accepted the fact that your time together was just that, limited and perfect in its brevity, a sweet escape from reality that was never meant to exist beyond the confines of a tropical resort. But that would be a lie.

Instead, you’d returned home a broken woman, bereft in the loss of him. It wasn’t logical, your heartbreak, but that fact hadn’t helped it heal. As you look at him now, through a watery veil of tears that won’t stop coming, you realize that time has done nothing to lessen the hurt.

Unable to stop yourself, you let your eyes move over the screen, taking in every version of his sweet face. Some pictures look like they’re from the same period of time as the footage from the TikTok, his stage outfits much more flamboyant and form-fitting than the plain white t-shirt or tank he’d adorned every day that you knew him. Knew him. That’s a joke. You didn’t know him at all.

But you had wanted to.

You switch back to the Google search results. As you scroll down the page, you avoid clicking links to videos that look like interviews, the thought of hearing him speak is overwhelming in the worst way, but something else grabs your attention.

His Instagram.

Your laptop abandoned, you open the app on your phone and search for his username, your finger hovers over the top result before you suck in a breath and tap it.

More pictures, a carefully curated collection of images made up almost solely of him. You open the most recent and feel heat blossom over your cheeks. It’s just him, you’re growing used to the sight of his face already, but he’s in profile and his curls are pulled back and tucked beneath that cap. The same one he’d been wearing when you met him by the pool. It’s so nearly exactly how he looked the first time you saw him up close that you have to move past it before you crumble completely.

His captions are sometimes poetic, as you had learned he could be, and now it all makes perfect sense. He’s an artist, a lyricist, he is a poet.

Here you are again, scrolling, growing numb to the digital portrayal of his face as you take in each one, watching him age in reverse as you reach the very last post on his account. When you make it there, you click on his username and it opens back at the top. You stare hard at the options before you.

Follow

Message

There’s no way it could be that easy… right?

The next days pass slowly, dragged out by the dwindling hope that the message you had managed to type out with shaky fingers somewhere around midnight that first night, will be read.

Days turn into weeks, your work performance suffering as the hole he’d left in your heart only seems to grow. You check Instagram almost obsessively but that little note never appears to indicate that he’s even seen your message. You lose yourself to it a little bit, the fixation, the need, he feels so close and somehow farther away than he’s ever been. It sometimes feels worse than not knowing anything about him at all.

In a dark moment of tequila-fueled weakness, you send another message. And another, convinced that somehow you’ll grab his attention. Prompted by a new set of black and white portraits uploaded to his account, you’d purchased the bottle and brought it home to drown in it, staring at the photos until your vision blurs. In the first image he’s looking directly down the barrel, into the lens, his body facing away and head turned toward the camera, an unbearably devilish smirk curving his lips. You know that smirk and the dimple it pulls into his skin well, it appears frequently in your dreams and now it takes up the entire screen of your phone, made up of pixels that lack all of the warmth and vibrancy that emanate from him.

You double tap your screen, a white heart appearing and disappearing over his grin. In a desperate attempt to be noticed, for him to sense your torment, you tap the heart at the bottom left corner of the picture, changing it from red back to an outline, a shell of itself. You repeat this over and over, red to outline, red to outline, will he see the notifications? Will anyone? Even if he did, would your username set off any alarm bells, does he even remember you?

He promised he would, but he didn’t keep every promise he made. Not when it mattered.

Willing yourself to stop liking and unliking the picture, you go back to your messages. Still unread.

The frustration gnaws at you from the inside until you feel on the verge of a true mental breakdown, a snap decision away from being locked up. Ignoring the potential consequences, you make that decision anyway, and a quick search brings you the name of their management company.

This is crazy… right?

You had definitely called. The first call was answered with cool professionalism that you met with your own cultivated “phone voice”, the conversation pleasant enough until you’d come out and asked for Josh Kiszka’s contact information. You’re sure you heard the woman on the other end of the line gasp, a sharp intake of breath followed by a heated dismissal as she admonished you for even daring to ask for the personal information of one of their clients. When the distinct click of the call disconnecting hits your ear, you’re not surprised.

But it doesn’t stop you from dialing the number again. And then again when the call goes unanswered.

The same woman picks up the phone after allowing it to ring for a considerable amount of time, and she manages to maintain the professional tone she’d answered with the first time. You ask if you can leave a message for Mr. Kiszka, but she declines and advises you to stop calling their office.

Two days later, you call again. As soon as you hear her, you know it’s the same person and that she’ll be prepared to hang up on you the moment you open your mouth. You don’t even try to hide your desperation, practically begging her to just take your name and number and pass it along, no message, no further information, please just tell him I called.

Click.

Six weeks. It’s been a month and a half since you saw that God forsaken video and it’s haunted you every day. You’ve gone to borderline embarrassing lengths to reach him. Messages, comments across the band’s various social media platforms, you’ve gone so far as to slide into his brothers’ DMs, in the hope that maybe one of them actually checks them.

They don’t.

As if it’s routine for you now, you absently scroll through your recent calls while you sit at your desk and tap on the number you’ve memorized as that of their management office, putting your phone on speaker as it rings. Ready to go toe-to-toe with Amber again while you wrap up an email, you’re shocked into momentary silence as a voice you don’t recognize comes over the line and greets you with the name of the company followed by their own and an offer to assist.

“Oh, hi um, Drew, was it? Drew I’m trying to get in contact with a client of yours, a Mr. Josh Kiszka. Could you-“

“What’s your name?”

Fuck. You can’t lie, so you give him your first name and hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable click.

“Please hold, I’ll connect your call.”

Holy shit. Your palms are instantly clammy with a cold sweat. There’s no way. The phone nearly slips from your fingers again as you take the call off speaker and hold it up to your ear with a shaky hand, the generic hold music drowned out by the rush of your own blood, your heart racing.

In a small conference room several floors over Drew’s head, the intercom at the center of the table beeps. Josh is seated there, next to Jake, the other band members across from them. All eyes dart to the intercom before sliding back to Patrick, their manager’s assistant that’s leading this meeting. Patrick sighs and leans in, pressing the button to answer the call.

“We’re in the middle of something, what?”

“S-so sorry sir, Mr. Kiszka has a call waiting on line three.”

Patrick sighs again deeply as he shakes his head, the other men around the table grin at each other, individual eyebrows raised in curiosity before they look back to the head of the table.

“Sorry guys, new fucking intern- Which Mr. Kiszka, Drew? Quickly.”

“Oh- I, sorry, Josh, sir.” Drew is about to lose this job before he even truly has it.

“And you didn’t just take a message because…?” Patrick is understandably irritated but the rest of the guys take the interruption in stride, leaning back into their chairs and letting their gazes drift back to Josh, intrigue written between his brows and on the subtle downturn of his lips.

“I- Don’t know sir, I’m so sorry, I’ll let her know-“

Josh interjects, cutting Drew the smallest amount of slack that he seems to desperately need. “Hey, that’s okay I’ll just take it. Where can I…?” He trails off and Drew stutters through telling him there’s a vacant office next door to the left, he can pick up line three, before Patrick presses the button to end Drew’s suffering.

“You expecting a call, Josh?” Sam, the youngest Kiszka brother speaks up, an inquisitive eyebrow still sitting high on his forehead.

“Ya know, I’m not, and that makes it all the more mysterious doesn’t it?” He waves his hands through the air and flashes a wide grin before standing and leaving the room.

The office next door is indeed empty, and dark. Josh flips the light switch on the wall and strolls in, rounding the tidy desk and taking a seat behind it. A multi-line corded phone sits at the corner, a red light flashing next to a button labeled Line 3. He leans in and lifts the handset from the receiver, putting it up to his ear as he pushes the button and the flashing light goes solid.

You’ve been on hold for what feels like hours, though it’s probably been only a few minutes, and you can’t bring yourself to end the call. The hope radiating through your body has caused a flush to creep over your chest and up your neck, you’d torn your cardigan off and thrown it onto your desk after the first minute. Your cheek is hot against the glass of your phone’s screen and your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest. You suck in a gasp and hold it when you hear the line click.

“Hello?”

His voice. You haven’t heard it at all since the day you’d found out who he was, haven’t listened to a song, haven’t watched a video. There would have been absolutely no way you could’ve handled it, and you’ve been holding out hope against every odd that the next time you did hear it… it would be straight from his own mouth. The sound of it leaves you light headed as you exhale the breath you’ve been holding, and you realize you haven’t said anything.

His voice rasps through the speaker again. “Hello?”

“… Josh.”

Taglist:

@lightmylove-gvf @spicedandicedtea @weneedsomehealing123 @milkgemini @why-ami-on-here @gretavanbitches @twistedmelodies @wildflowerxx-x @dannythedog @blissfulbellss @averagemisfit03 @dharmasdivine @thetroublegetssoloud71 @lucimoo @toxbexannouncedx @dig0930 @maddie-van-fleet @friska101-cg @welllauragvf @gretasimp @objectsinspvce @writingcold @gretavangroupie @sweetybre @gretasgoose @gvfjess @josh-iamyour-mama

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #josh gvf #josh kiszka #gvf fanfiction #gvf fan fiction

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Where I Belong Series

Summary: Let’s get small glimpses of Eddie, Salem and Fox’s daily lives. No order required, read it as you wish.

Pairings: Eddie Kingston x Fox (reader), Salem (daughter)

Salem’s 19th birthday present will remind the Kingston’s family once again of how two become one.

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl

“Alright, Sae. You’re ready?” You asked with a confident smile.

Your daughter clapped excitedly and braced herself when you turned on the hair clippers.

“Oh she’s gonna do it, she’s gonna do it. Drum roll” Eddie tapped on the bathroom wall like drums as Salem pressed the hair clippers against her forehead.

She slid the blade through her hair and yelled in excitement when her waist-long hair fell on the ground.

This was what your daughter wanted for her 19th birthday: hair clippers so she could shave her head.

“Ouch, it’s pulling on my hair” She winced in pain

“That’s because it’s too long to go with the clippers straight away, Lemmy. I told you it was better to cut it first” You chuckled and retrieved the clippers away from your daughter’s grasp.

Grabbing the hair scissors from the bathroom cabinet, you tied her thick, hazelnut hair in a ponytail before cutting it as close to the root as possible.

Along with doing the one thing she was craving the most for the past 6 months, Salem decided to also help those in need by donating her hair to a charity company that made human hair wigs for women and children who were undergoing cancer treatment or had alopecia.

For many years Salem’s hair was complimented, envied, desired, and a topic of heated discussion between hairdressers whenever she decided to chop off a few inches. No one could understand how someone with such long, thick, shiny, healthy hair was able to even think of cutting it short - let alone shave it off!

But Salem Kingston wouldn’t be Salem Kingston if she didn’t love to cause a commotion. And you wouldn’t be her mother if you weren’t already used to the fact that Salem - much like her father - would always do the exact opposite of what people want her to do.

Truth be told, you didn’t care if your daughter wanted to be bald or have waist-long hair as long as she was happy. And you could proudly say your husband thought the same.

Eddie’s words echoed in your mind “My baby girl will do what my baby girl wants to do and I support her rights as much as I support her wrongs. Just don’t tell her I said that otherwise, she’ll take advantage of me”.

“There we go, now it’ll be easier” You stated, laying her thick ponytail inside the grocery bag Eddie brought to you.

“Thanks, Mom” Salem smiled and continued to shave her head.

You quickly glanced at Eddie, who had tears pooling in his eyes already. A faint chuckle escaped your lips as you kissed his cheek “Hold it together, papa bear. I’ll go grab the Polaroid so we can take some pictures”

Before leaving the bathroom you stared one more time at Eddie and Salem side by side. Now, with half of her head shave, she looked so much like Eddie. The strong, thick eyebrows, the big expressive green eyes, and now the buzzcut. These two made up the two pieces of your heart.

“What’s wrong, Dad? You don’t like it? Do you think I look ugly?” Doubt could be heard in Salem’s voice as she looked at her father’s reflection in the mirror.

“Of course not, chickadee! You look gorgeous, baby! I’m just emotional because you’ve grown so fast and now look at you, you’re a woman now! You’re not my little princess no more, the one that came running after me backstage whenever I walked to the gorilla, crying and asking me to stay with you a bit longer because you didn’t want me to go out in the ring and get a boo-boo. You’re growing up and don’t need your old man anymore”

“Dad” Salem turned off the clippers and turned around so she could look at her father face to face, “I’ll always need you! I don’t know what I'll do without you the day I move out. You’re my dad, the one man I know will never let me down, you’re my teacher, my best friend, my twin” Salem smiled when Eddie chuckled at her last statement. “You’re the only person on earth who truly understands me. Because we’re the same… ‘two hearts beating as one’, wasn’t that what you always told me when I was a kid?”

Eddie nodded and Salem continued “It’ll always be like that, Dad. No one can ever change or replace it, no matter how old I am or where I am, you’re my father and I love you forever”

Eddie pulled Salem towards him in a tight bear hug, not minding the hairs that were already sticking to his shirt. As the tears rolled down his bearded cheeks, he stated “I love you, kiddo. I love you to the moon and back. I love you in this life-“

“And in the next one” Salem completed her father’s sentence for him before she pulled back “So, will you help me shave the back? Because I can’t see shit”

Eddie chuckled before taking the clippers off her hand “Girl, you know I got some mad barber shop skills”. He pressed the blade against Salem’s head and shelved the short hair on the nape of her neck when you suddenly called from the bathroom door:

“Big smile, you guys! Give me big smiles and look at the camera”

Salem hugged her father’s waist tightly as she crossed her eyes and poked her tongue out to the camera. Eddie turned off the clippers and held them in his hand, his arms hugging his daughter equally tight before his cheek came to rest on the top of her - now - bald head with a big smile plastered on his lips.

Later that night, while you waited for the picture to glue on your family album, you grabbed a red pen and wrote on the blank space of the Polaroid:

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 ❤️

#where i belong series #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston imagine #eddie kingston fanfiction #eddie kingston #masochist writes