#i'm getting you a tanning appointment

[rjchocobi]

﹙🍃 𓂃 satan's right-hand man — lee haechan ! ﹚

♡ . . . synopsis ; you've known lee donghyuck your whole life, admired him from afar for half as long and yet, why does it take a cross-major project to get you to properly interact?

♡ . . . pairing ; computer science major! haechan × multimedia major! reader

♡ . . . genre ; non-idol au, college au (? very inaccurate portrayal of the education system haha). a few curses flying here and there.

“I don't think I can do it. There's way too many people around.”

You follow the tan-skinned target dressed in baggy jeans and a varsity jacket as he walks past your table, out of the cafeteria billowing murmurs of conversation. His brown hair flops down on his eyes, wired earphones making him oblivious to the world.

Or, in this case, you and your friend's schemes.

“Y/n, just breathe,” Gyuri chuckles, typing away on her laptop. “Most people here are too occupied with their own shit to care about yours.”

“Astounding analogy, truly,” you deadpan at the Literature major who shrugs, leaning back on the chair. The crop top you'd worn was sticking to your sweating back, uncomfortably so. “And sure, nobody would be curious as to why I'm walking up to the newly appointed captain of the soccer team. The last time someone asked him out, they went viral!”

“Hey, you're asking him out for an entirely different reason. Unless, you have a thing for bratty jocks with pretty faces?”

You couldn't stop the roll of your eyes. She was right, until you account for his soft brown eyes, tech nerd tendencies that came off as way too appealing than they had any business being and a presence that everyone heard yet missed when he wasn't around.

Oh god, you really were hopeless.

Gyuri pipes up next, looking away from the screen before her, “Also, it takes about five minutes to make it to the front gate. So, unless you have any other place in mind to ask him before the first game tomorrow, you should be running.”

The world screeches to a halt. Your eyes flicker to the wall clock, as you stand up immediately. “Shit, there's no way I'll make it to him before his usual bus leaves in these shoes!”

“Should I be concerned that you know his bus route?” Gyuri raises an inquisitive brow.

You muster your deadliest glare, grabbing for things and shoving them in your bag. “Don't make it sound creepy, weirdo. I used to take the same bus before we moved.”

“Eh, tomato to-mah-to,” Gyuri cocks her head. “Now, chop chop. You have precisely two minutes on the clock.”

Taking a deep breath, you try (and fail, evidently) to settle your stomach which had been dancing the tango on a loop for the whole day. “I'll see you later. And thanks for the coffee!”

Gyuri throws you double thumbs up. Whether in acceptance or encouragement, you don't have the time to figure out.

When you manage to stumble through the crowd going the opposite way, past the gates of your college campus and to the nearest bus stop, it's been nearly ten minutes. With your heart pounding against your throat, you scan the listing on your phone, “Let's see... Cheongpa 2GA, Cheongpa...”

“It got cancelled today. There was a big crash by the Hangang road.”

Your head shoots up at the distantly familiar voice, so fast that you're surprised you dodge a whiplash. He stands leaning against the pole upholding the overhead shade, a small smile on his face.

Inhaling sharply, you nod and speak after having reinstalled basic social skills. “Right. Uh, are there any other buses going the same way?”

“Not if you want to reach home past ten,” he muses. “I'll catch the next ride to the subway and take the train.”

The need to know why he was telling you this registered a little too late.

"Shouldn't you be looking for the Bogwang side buses, though?” he asks.

You nearly trip on the transition curb, going to stand beside him. “I'm visiting family in Cheongpa. Anyway, it's kind of weird that you know where I live, isn't it?”

He's still staring you down as he says, “Not as weird as you and your friend memorizing my schedules or tracking my hourly whereabouts.”

For the second time in the span of five minutes, you look up at him, finding the corners of his warm gaze crinkling with mirth. You feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I—”

One syllable doesn't make it out your mouth before he's humming in approval. About what, you're none the wiser. “Yeah, you guys are not as quiet as you may think.”

Humiliation burns red across the apples of your cheeks and creeps up your neck. If Lee Donghyuck had managed to overhear, how many other within earshot knew all about your business?

You settled for an indignant response. “Hey, it's rude to eavesdrop.”

Donghyuck chuckles, an airy sound but still low; lower than the pitches you know his laughter reached. “Or I just have really great hearing. So, what is it you wanted to ask me so badly?”

You catch up on the teasing lilt. “What if I say it's a love confession?”

Your flippant reply has him lose his cool for half a second yet you still consider it a win. He shoves his phone back in his pocket, “Doubt it. Setting aside the massive stroking my ego will receive, you don't seem like the type to lose your mind over asking someone out.”

“Touché,” You mumble, your next words put on hold due to the people near your surging forward as the next bus arrived.

Donghyuck walks forward, so at ease you think he had taken and discarded your conversation in the matter of seconds. Before your heart could drop to the depths of hell, he looks over in confusion. “You’re not coming?”

You follow him wordlessly, hanging around the back of the bus. Donghyuck stands near you, chuckling when he sees you're unable to hold onto the handlebars above.

“Too high for you?”

“Shut up before I stomp on your feet. I can assure you it hurts like a bitch,” you threaten and he thinks you look about as menacing as a kitten.

“Enlighten me then, Y/n. What made you stalk me on a Tuesday?” he asks instead, moving a little closer as the bus lurches forward.

Ignoring the zoo of butterflies in your gut, you sigh. “Remember the project that's supposed to be thirty percent of the semester's final grade? Well, my assignment goes way off my area of expertise."

He hums in acknowledgement, full lips parting in an 'o' of realization as he catches on. "And what do you expect me to do?"

Ever the overthinker, you translate that to him wanting nothing to do with this. You drop your head, eyes trained on the yellow wedges you'd put on for the day. It had given you nothing but blisters. That's what trying new things, going out of comfort zones get you—a reality check.

You voice is too small for your liking, "I was thinking of making a videogame. Nothing fancy, just the barebones of an interactive interface. I thought if I get a computer major on board, we could both submit the project and present different aspects of the process."

The split second of silence before he speaks is gut-wrenching. “Killing two birds with one stone. It's a smart idea.”

You glance up to see a leisurely grin on his face. Is it weird that the loosest definition of a compliment from him is throwing you into a spiral? Probably.

“So? Will you work on it with me?” you ask, all too eager.

He pretends to think it over, hand on his chin and everything. Then, “Say 'please' first.”

For a second, you're rendered speechless. “What?"

“What?” He blinks owlishly, parroting you. “If a cute girl asks nicely, maybe I'll agree.”

Your jaw slackens. “Lee Donghyuck, you are a menace to society.”

“Because I ask for my fair share? I see how it is.” He pouts mockingly, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

“You get to present the project, too! That's a fifty-fifty bargain unless you have a better idea for partner-work that assures you an easy A,” you cross your arms over your chest. You may be a hopeless case of anxiety and lackluster connections but you're not that desperate. And who does he think he is, anyway?

Donghyuck chuckles, head bobbing. “Not nearly enough. If I'm doing this, I want you to do two things for me.”

You nearly rethink your decision for even asking him in the first place. But acting like his personal errand girl is not worse than showing up to class with a half-assed project. “Nothing that entails me publicly making a fool out of myself more than I already do.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won't ask for anything like that. Who do you take me for?”

You eye him up and down. “Right now? Satan's right-hand man.”

Donghyuck smirks, poking his tongue onto the inside of his cheek. “Alright, then. Satan's right-hand man says you must first ask him politely and second... go out on a date with him.”

#🍨 ── 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙤𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 ᵎ #lee haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct dream fluff #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #nct drabbles #nct #haechan #haechan nct

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 6

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Shower smut, Slight breeding kink if you squint, Simon Riley being a literal angel, basically all smut with a little bit of plot.

A/N: Hi loves, imma be real, i wrote this entire part in a day. I spent pretty much my entire afternoon writing this after i scrapped about 4 different versions. This is the best i got at the moment. Im still working on this series and requests. Just life is kinda busy. So please bear with me and enjoy the brain rot. This is also not proofread at all so RIP to any grammar police.

Word Count: 3012... This seemed longer.. sowwie, its smol.

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 5

You sleepily make your way towards the bathroom door, hand closing over the knob as the incessant need to pee urges you forward. It was a little after 2am, you had fallen asleep rather early having spent most of the day lounging around the apartment. 

Simon was on base for the day, running training exercises with Soap, Gaz and Captain Price. During the 3 months you have been living with Simon, you have come to learn his patterns. Training days meant that 9 times out of 10 he would spend the night on base. The days before a deployment he would make sure to stock the fridge and pantry with your favorites. On Sundays he did laundry, every 3rd wednesday he would get his haircut. Saturdays after returning for deployment were reserved for going out to Soap’s bar and having a well deserved drink. You also learnt his day to day routine, every morning he was home Simon rose at exactly 5:00am, went on a 12 mile run, when he returned if you weren't already awake he would prepare you a healthy breakfast and leave it out for you before heading to work. 

On days when you were awake when he got back from his run he would shower, and you both would spend some time preparing breakfast together. Although those mornings instead of the nutritionally packed meals he usually prepared you often convinced him to make some sort of carb and sugar filled breakfast. Those mornings he would often leave the flat grumbling about how he should’ve run extra. Those mornings were your favorite. 

Since you moved in your relationship with Simon had not progressed further than friends, sure there was still the burning desire that he ignited within you from just looking at you. And you would often linger just a little bit too long in his arms when he would give you a hug. But there hadn't been any kissing, and you haven't managed to end up naked in between his sheets. But that wasn't for lack of wanting.

As you shove open the bathroom door, you fail to realize that not only was the light on but the sound of running water was coming from the shower. As you quickly beeline for the enclosed toilet space, you don't feel a set of brown eyes watching your every move from behind the foggy glass. It isn't until you wash your hands in the sink and glance up into the large mirror on the wall that you realize you aren't alone. Through the fogged glass of the mirror you can make out Simon’s large silhouette, his tanned skin reduced to nothing more than a tan blob. 

“Oh my god!” You squeak, whirling around, your chest heaving as you finally face Simon. He's mostly obscured by the fogged glass door of the walk-in shower, but his bemused smile is clear. “I didn't think you would be coming home!” You mutter out, your cheeks turning pink as he runs his hand across the glass cleaning away some of the fog. Now you can clearly see his face, although distorted by the water droplets on the glass. 

“I should’ve texted you, I'm sorry.. I just didn't want to be late for the appointment in the morning..” Simon says as he reaches up, running his hand through his wet blonde hair.

“No, no! I'm sorry, I should've paid more attention. I'm such an airhead sometimes I didn't realize that there was someone in here..” you rush out as you try to desperately keep your eyes from straying from Simon's face. You aren’t sure if it's the heat from the shower or the pregnancy hormones but it takes all your willpower to keep your eyes from trailing down his toned body. 

Simon pauses for a moment, his dark brown eyes trailing over you, from the adorable flush of your cheeks to the swell of your stomach under the sleep shirt you have on. “It’s alright. Love," Simon smiles. One of his panty dropping smiles that you swear he reserves for only you. It's the smile that sends shivers straight to your core. That leaves you a hot panting mess behind closed doors. Living with Simon and not jumping his bones at every opportunity was damn near torture during your second trimester. You were able to take care of things yourself, but now that your bump had grown substantially, you hadn’t been able to find relief.  

Without thinking, you walk towards the shower and yank open the door, the hot steam pouring out. Little splashes of water hit your skin as you step into the small space. Your sleep shirt and shorts quickly drenched, as Simon stares at you wide eyed. 

“Sweetheart…” Simon warns as your hands come to rest on his wet cheeks, your thumb catching on his bottom lip as he looks down at you, his pupils blown wide. You quickly close the space between you two, your bump pressing against the firm plains of his abs, your arms snaking around his neck as you sharply tug him down to your height. Your lips capture his in a sloppy, wet kiss. Simon groans low in his throat, his chest vibrating against your overly sensitive breasts. A new wave of need pluses through you as you try to get closer, Simon's cock jumping to life as it presses against your lower stomach. Simon's large hands land on your hips squeezing slightly as he turns you, pressing your back against the cold tile wall of the shower. 

A startled gasp rushes past your lips as your back makes contact with the cold tile. A shiver running through you as your wet shirt makes it feel colder. Simon smiles against your lips, one hand coming up to graze over your pebbled nipples through the sopping wet fabric of your shirt. A breathy moan slips from you as Simon peppers kisses down the side of your jaw to your neck. The spray from the showerhead now sprays off his shoulders as he leans lower. 

“Fuck.. Please,” you whine, nails scratching along the tops of his shoulders Simon wraps his lips around one of your nipples, over the fabric of your shirt. The friction from the wet fabric sends waves of pleasure through you straight to your core, your legs starting to shake with need and Simon has barely touched you.

“Such a needy girl…” Simon murmurs against your skin, as he flicks his tongue across your nipple. Your cheeks flush pink at his words but you’re hanging on to each one like they’re your life line. “Why didn't you just come to me if you needed some help baby?” Simon whispers softly, as his fingers trace the bottom of your bump, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pushes it up.

“I…I don't know,” You mumble your head tipping back against the cold shower wall. 

Simon hums, his lips once again brushing across one of your nipples, pulling another moan from you. “God, your tits are amazing. It’s been hell walking around trying not to stare at them. Knowing that my child is the reason, knowing that they are growing to provide milk for our baby,” Simon whispers against your skin, and you swear you could cum just from the sounds of his voice. 

“Simon… Please…” you whine, it's small and breathy, in any other circumstance you would be ashamed for sounding so weak, but right now you couldn't give two shits if the damn queen of England was standing here witnessing your plea.

“Tell me what you need baby, I don't want to hurt you..” Simon stands back to his full height, his hand coming to cup the side of your face. You force your eyes open, Simon's beautiful brown eyes staring at you. Simon is a large man, in all aspects of his life and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you unintentionally. Especially now, as you carry his child within you, he would rather be buried alive again than accidentally do something to hurt you or the baby.

“I need you to bend me over and fuck me senseless. I feel like I'm going to explode,” you whine, your needy hands coming to rake down his bare chest, sending a shiver through Simon's entire body. 

“Whatever you need, Love,” Simon grunts before he bends down and picks you up, nudging open the shower door with his shoulder as he cradles you against his wet chest. He doesn’t stop to turn off the shower or even dry himself off as he brings you into his room. He sets you down on your feet and quickly drops to his knees in front of you. His still warm hands catching the waistband of your wet sleep shorts. He pulls them down your legs, goosebumps erupting across your skin from the sudden change in temperature. 

Simon presses a series of soft kisses to the stretched skin of your stomach, his hands briefly cupping your belly/ “Hi Lovie,” he whispers softly to your bump and if you weren’t so ravishingly horny you could cry. The sight of probably one of the scariest men you know on his knees in front of you talking to his unborn child makes you want to scream in the best way. But your mind quickly goes blank as Simon's fingers trace the smooth skin of your inner thigh. 

“Turn around, elbows on the bed, pet,” Simon stands again, his hands on your shoulders as he gently turns you. As if on autopilot you lean forwards, resting your elbows on the bed, giving Simon a perfect view of your ass. A deep groan hits your ears as Simon's hand comes to massage the puffy flesh of your ass. Your skin prickles with anticipation as his fingers dip lower, gathering the slick wetness from between your thighs. The breath wooshed from your lungs as he thrusts one finger into your slick cunt. 

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl aren't you?” Simon hums, lazily thrusting his finger before he adds a second. You tip your hips back, trying to make him go faster, this slow languid pace he was setting was driving you mad. You needed to be fucked, and god damn if you didn't get it right now you were going to cry. 

“Si…” you whine, pushing your hips back into his hand as he curls his fingers within you. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant, not made of fucking glass. I swear if you don't fu-” Your voice cuts off as Simon slams into you in one quick thrust. Your world spins for a moment and if you hadn't been holding onto the bed for support you would’ve fallen over. A startled gasp passes your lips and Simon all but freezes. “No please don't stop, it just feels different but not in a bad way…” You quickly mumble reaching back haphazardly with one hand to try and grab Simon's hip to force him to move.  

“You sure?” Simon mumbles, his hands coming to rest on your hips, as he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. 

“Oh god, yes, please,” you moan, your face now pressed into the mattress. That was all it took for Simon to continue, his hips thrust into you at a rapid pace, obscene moans leaving your lips as he slams home each time. Sex felt different this time, there was no slight burn from how big Simon was but you felt full, so deliciously full. You had been worried about having sex at any point during your pregnancy, having read that some women have no sex drive during pregnancy, especially the 3rd trimester. But thank the lord above it was not the case for you. Your thoughts turn to nothing as Simon lets out a harsh moan, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Simon grunts as he adjusts his grip on your hip bones,his fingertips digging into your skin.

“Feels so good Simon.. I'm gonna cum..” You whimper as the familiar coil in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release as he pounds into you. Your skin slapping against each other so loud you're sure the neighbors know what's going on.

“Cum for me baby,” Simon leans forward, one hand wrapping around your shoulder as he pulls you up slightly, your elbows no longer resting on the bed as he pulls you up against his chest. His hips still pistoning into you as he uses the new position to fuck into your harder. You reach up and grab the back of his neck with your hand, anchoring yourself to him, your other hand coming to find the hand still on your waistline. You guide his hand up to your throat where he gives it a gentle squeeze. 

That small squeeze was all you needed to go tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Stars dance in front of your vision as the world goes quiet for a moment. Simon finds his own release moments after yours, his entire body tensing behind you. As you turn to putty in his arms, “Woah, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers into your sweaty hairline as his arms carefully wrap around you and he manages to slip out of you and hold you up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, fully sated as you lean against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, one arm firmly around you, right under your breasts the other resting lightly on your bump. His fingers softly rubbing along your soft skin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Simon grunts, maneuvering you to the edge of the bed where he helps lower you into it. 

“I just basically jumped you in the shower… “ you mutter, your eyes heavy as exhaustion hits you like a freight train hitting a brick wall. 

Simon pauses as he gathers your wet pj’s from the floor and shoves them into his laundry basket. “You think I would be upset by you jumping me in the shower?” He asks, a small smile on his face. 

You lift your head, watching as he shoves the clothes into the basket and grabs a black long sleeve shirt from the closet. He walks over, standing in front of you still in all his naked glory, the shirt in his hands. “Well.. I mean.. we haven’t exactly expressed wanting more than friendship..” 

“Love, I’ve been taking it slow because I thought you only wanted to be friends… not because I wanted to. God, watching you walk around the apartment, your stomach growing with my child drives me insane, I’ve wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you sensless every morning since the first day you got here.” Simon pulls the shirt over your head, and you put your arms through, the shirt still fits loosely even over your baby bump. 

“Oh…” you freeze for a moment, you and Simon had gotten closer over the time you’ve lived with him. You had learnt about his past, about his mother and brother. About his nephew. You held him when he cried one night, his words a broken mess of how he was afraid he would turn out to be his dad. How he wished he could talk to his brother one last time, so he could ask him how he got past the fear of turning into his dad. How he handled the fear of being a dad when he had Joseph.

But the entire time you had lived together Simon had always treated you with respect, he never touched your stomach without asking. He always made sure to keep a respectable distance from you when you were on the couch. He never entered your room without permission and never asked about your life before coming to London. 

But it wasn’t to say you didn’t share things with Simon, he knew your favorite color, your worst fear (unrelated to your family’s passing) , your greatest wish, he knew what you used to dream about being as a little kid. He knew that your favorite food could make you smile on your worst days, and that you liked to watch old sitcoms when it rained. If someone was to look into your conversations they would probably think you were already together. That you probably didn’t flaunt the physical aspects of your relationship. Simon had quickly broken down the walls you had put up around yourself, and had comfortably made his own spot in your heart.

Simon sits next to you, now dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, his large hand covering yours. You slowly look up at him, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. The small scar in his eyebrow evident this close, you reach out running a finger across it. The skin is slightly raised and water drips from his hair onto your finger.

“Then you should stop fighting the urge…” you finally whisper, your hand cupping the rough skin of Simon’s face. 

“Would you be okay with that? With me touching you whenever I wanted… holding you.. kissing you?” Simon whispers, his eyes closing for a moment as he leans into your hand.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your forehead coming to rest against his, your eyes closed. For a moment you just sit there. Your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling.

Could you be okay with that?

Could you let someone in that way?

Let someone get close enough that they could see all the broken and jagged edges of you?

Could you open yourself up to losing someone again?

The thought of Simon being gone suddenly, ripped away from you by some unknown, the same person who ripped your siblings and mother away from you makes you want to vomit.

But a small part of you chimes in, the part that knows Simon isn’t defenseless like your family was. Simon was a trained military man, a man who single handedly killed an entire crew for crossing him. He could handle himself. He had proved that time and time again in the field. He also had the rest of 141, the team who would go to the ends of the earth to find him. 

You open your eyes, and look at Simon, the answer on the tip of your tongue as you stare at his beautiful face. His light blonde stubble, the small scars, the crook in his nose, the slightly uneven line of his lower lip. “Yes… I-I want that.. I want all of it.”

Next Part: 7

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18

#x reader #simon x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #one night stand series #soft simon #simon #call of duty modern warfare 3 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost #cod x reader #x pregnant reader #x pregnant! reader

[fanaticsnail]

That Thing I Like

Masterlist Here

Word count: 2,100+

Synopsis: You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.

Themes: Law x gn!reader, platonic yearning for more, crying, angst, swearing, hurt with comfort, processing grief, professionalism and duty getting in the way.

Notes: @feral-artistry said she wanted some comforting Law. Man needs a hug. Go comfort your captain, he needs you. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity

Written with two songs in mind: Lora Lai Lo - Patty Gurdy, Baby Mine - Sharon Rooney

Fingertips brushing with the tanned pages of your novel, focussing on the cleverly articulated poetry depicted on the pages. You began blindly reaching in front of you, your index finger meeting with the ceramic edge of your rapidly cooling teacup.

Your eyes continued to mull the same sentence over and over again, the masterful penmanship scorching into your memory as you rose your cup to your lips. Halting, you narrowed your eyes on the final two words of the sentence: “My boy.” You spoke aloud those words in a hushed whisper, brow knit and focussed.

Finally raising the teacup to your lips, you choked on the fluid within. Where you expected to taste the bitter tang and subtle sweetness of liquorice tea, your palate was assaulted immediately by the overwhelming flavor of seawater.

“Damn it, Shachi!” you immediately yelled, placing down the cup loudly on your saucer. A loud gaggle of laughter had your eyes burning with a violent rage over the spine of your novel. The redhead smirked at you, his brother in arms, Penguin, clutching his own chest alongside grasping Shachi’s bicep.

“I couldn't not!” he confessed between cackles, “It was right there!” You shook your head at him, rising to your feet and readied yourself to berate your fellow Heart-Pirate crewman, only for the drone of your Captain to spark over the Den-Den speakers.

“Ships’ Counselor, to my office,” your anger immediately cooled, huffing away your exasperation with a puff of breath.

“Saved by the captain, as per usual, Orka,” you snarled at him. His smirk only widened as you shook off the flavor of seasoned water with a shrug of your shoulders and a rotation of your neck.

“Ooooh, Counselor to the Captain’s office,” Penguin taunted you with a higher pitch to his regular drone, “How many times does that make this week, hm Shach?”

“That makes the fourth day in a row, Pen,” Shachi taunted back. You placed your marker within the pages of your novel and tucked it within your satchel. Shaking your head at the both of them, you eyed them off cautiously.

“Four days of not so secret, secret meetings,” Penguin continued in his teasing tone, “What do you get up to in there? Want to share with your two bestest friends?”

“After that little stunt?” you quipped at him, gesturing to the ceramic teacup, “Absolutely not."

“It was just a little switch-e-roo,” Shachi chuckled, “A little switch up to make things interesting.”

“I will get you back for that little switch up, boys,” you threaten them with narrowed eyes and a wide smirk, “When you least expect it, I'll enact my revenge.” The seriousness in your tone had both men on edge beneath your icy tone. 

“Jokes on you,” Penguin snarled your name in a hushed whisper, “I'm always on edge.”

“A terrible coping strategy, Pen,” you remark with a soft chuckle, “When you're ready to work through that, make an appointment with me, okay?” He hummed a soft acknowledgement at your comment, both men watching as you turned to make your way through the Polar Tang. 

As you left the common area and wove your body down the hall, Shachi turned to Penguin and bumped his shoulder against his. 

“You reckon Cap and Sel are a little friendly?” he asked his dark-haired crewmate. 

“More than that, I think,” Penguin smirked in return, scrunching his nose up, “Why else would he call ‘em into the office so much?”

Both men looked at one another with a small shrug before returning to their own recreational activities in the mess hall, leaving thoughts of romantic dalliance between you and Law alone while their hobbies occupy them. 

As soon as you knock, your practiced routine for the last few days has your momentum carrying you to the desk Law remained sat behind. 

“Counselor,” Law addressed you with a soft nod. 

“Captain,” you mirrored his expression with a nod of your own. Your soft, melancholy smile rose up to your lips. 

“I need you to do that thing I like,” he confessed with an even tone. You shook your head, your brows furrowed to a low frown. 

“Captain,” you begin, shaking your head, “This is the fourth day in a row that you've-.”

“-I need it,” he spoke over you, a small growl in his tone, “I need you to do it again.” You sighed in response, weaving your way over to his position behind the desk. 

He swivelled his chair, his knees parted and hands gripping the denim over his thighs. His teeth clenched behind his tightly clamped lips, his brow deepening in a frown of his own. 

“Are you certain?” you asked him, reaching out and smoothing your hands over his shoulders before cupping his chin beneath your fingertips. 

“I know it's a request not common in your training,” he confessed, his inked fingertips tentatively and soothingly brushing over your own, “And it's well out of your job description and comfort zone. But I need you to do this for me.” 

You smile softly at him, his eyelids falling into a cresent shape with his small smile. His hat lay askew on his desk, his documents all neatly compiled in a catalogued heap beside him. 

“Alright, Captain,” you smiled at your captain, turning your hands and capturing his within your digits, “Let's go do that thing you like.”

You led Law by the hands, tugging at his wrists and slowly moved yourself to a seated position over the suade sofa in his office, patting the empty space beside you to indicate for Law to sit. 

Immediately, he fell in a heaped mess beside you. His head hit your thighs, his face hidden against your stomach as your hands gently began caressing his hair. He lay himself down, tucking his lanky legs against his chest as you began the routine you had been practicing for the past four days. 

“My boy, dry your eyes,” you sung melodically to him, your voice not professional by any means, but well enough to carry the simple melody. He immediately became transported back into a memory. 

“Tomorrow will soar, as the dove flies,” you massaged his scalp, hands soothing over the unruly strands. He tucked his head further against your stomach, using your body as a shield to muffle any uncharacteristic whimpers from falling from his lips. 

“You are loved from your head to your toes,” you continued, your own emotions almost betraying you as you felt his shoulders shuddering, “May my words spread light over woes.”

“For you are my best boy,” you repeated your lilted chorus, “My only boy.” 

As your words hung thick in the air, you attempted to ignore the dampened streaks of fresh, hot tears soaking through your shirt. You knew Law needed to linger in this space, process this state of grief and use you as a lightning rod to draw in his thundering strike of raw emotion. 

For the past four days, he needed a space to linger in his grief. When you noticed him making simple mistakes navigating the Polar Tang through still waters, you immediately set an appointment up with him to talk through it. It took you the first month to get him to open up, the following two to reassure him that nothing ever said here would leave.

It only took two months after that one to have him process his childhood with you there as an ear, a council and a guide to usher him through. You had become friends through this, sometimes using the opportunity to discuss hobbies and jokes. But lately, he would use your time together to remember all those lost to him. 

For the past four days, that focus was on his mother. 

After clutching against you within this state of vulnerability for several, you chose not to make a sound. Disguising your breath by taking lengthy inhales and exhales, your heart soared, and relief washed over you when you felt your captain match your intentional breaths. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against your naval, withdrawing his face from your body and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“You've done well,” you acknowledged him, withdrawing your hands from his hair as he moved to sit upright, “Less time than the last few sessions we've done this together.” 

He hummed, his heart feeling lighter and less overcome beneath the strangling waves of oppressed sorrow. His eyes were red and glossy, the streaks of tears now drying on his cheeks. 

“Do you want to talk about it this time, or do you want to leave it?” you offered him, feeling his bare grief still lingering, “We've spoken so much about Dressrosa, Corazon and Doflamingo. Do you want to tell me why this melody means so much to you?”

He sighed, his tattooed fingers drawing over his eyes as he scraped them over his cheeks and down to his whiskered chin. 

“My mother sang that song to me every night,” he confessed in a voice just above a whisper, “She would change the lyrics for my sister when it was her turn. I would often catch her humming it when she thought nobody was around.”

You nodded along, ushering him to continue with your eyes supporting his release of pent up emotion.

“I was a child when my whole country perished with the poisoning, or the extermination,” he continued, a wave in his voice causing him to gulp back a dry lump forming, “I don't think I had the opportunity to process this before, and now that her birthday is coming up-...”

“...You miss them,” your hands subconsciously sought out his knee, giving the cap a gentle squeeze in acknowledging his emotions, “And there is nothing wrong with experiencing the gravity of such a loss well after experiencing it. You've been through so much, Captain.”

His hand reached down to cup yours over his knee, his head shaking a soft denial to your words. 

“You likely think me weak,” he confessed with a dark smile, “You have the ability to dismiss me from duty and take command, should you no longer see me fit to lead.”

“For experiencing human emotions?” you quirk your brow up, a soft smile elevating to your lips, “Hardly a valid reason for mutiny, sir.”

He chuckled at your answer, his rare smile once again drawing over his face. The moment of the memory had left him once more, his mind now fully present beside you. Your smile was one he had seen a thousand times before, but this particular one penetrated his cold heart and swelled it with an engulfing warmth. 

“I appreciate you so much, Counselor,” he admitted, his body moving against its will in a hypnotic trance as his forehead met with your own, “I will be forever grateful that Bepo convinced me that our crew needed one.”

“For what it's worth,” you whisper, closing your eyes and lingering against him, “I think you are an excellent captain,” you used your thumb to brush against his knuckles, “Your parents, your sister, your country, and Rosinante would be proud of the man you've become.” 

Lingering against each other, Law fought back the urge flooding his chest to release more of his stress physically. He wanted to lunge forward and press himself against you, cry into you and show his appreciation with embracing you.

But he remembered who he was, where he was, who you were, and who you were to him. You were an equal, a colleague, a friend, and someone who acts as both therapist and deepest confidant to him as your superior.

He could never betray that to seek out a physical dalliance, no matter how much his body screamed at him to clutch against you.

You were plagued with a similar plight, desperately wanting to join your lips with Law’s and demonstrate how safe, secure, and loved he is with you. To become a person far greater than a mere colleague to him.

These past few months had drawn you both close - but these past few days had propelled you even closer. You could never betray your station and your standing as his confidante and counselor.

As the night lingered on, you both opted to remain like this for several moments: enjoying the soft, emotional touch and the world you had carved out behind the safety of the office door. Both yearning and craving the touch to deepen between you, like a swelling rush of water behind a rapidly caving dam wall.

You just needed one more, simple push before that wall would shatter for you to give into this craving. But stubourness, duty and your minds often stood in the way of you both giving in to he desires your heart screamed for.

#one piece #x reader #trafalgar law #Trafalgar Law x reader #op law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #op law x reader

[vividwritinglove]

gray sweatpants - Pierre Gasly

I don’t know why but I kind of have the feeling it’s the magic of this campaign that makes me want to write so much at the moment 🔥 and according to that, gray sweatpants are next to a suit the most sexiest thing a man (especially this one) could wear!

warnings: smut (minors dni)

word count: 1.3k

~

The 2022 Formula 1 season has been over for a week now and after a short vacation in Abu Dhabi, you are finally back home in Milan. For Pierre, however, the work is far from over, his move to Alpine is in full swing and in addition to his training camp for the new season, many more appointments with the new racing team are pending. Because of your work, you won't be able to accompany Pierre often, so every moment you can spend together is sacred for you. However, this is disturbed with the constant work calls that Pierre is receiving.

The first call woke you up shortly after 7 a.m. No morning cuddles. You also did the morning jog alone and brought breakfast from his favorite bakery on the way back home. As you enter the apartment you hear the shower running and you decide to prepare breakfast for both of you. Besides the things from the bakery, you had also stopped at a kiosk to get some magazines to improve your Italian. The table was set, you were sitting in front of your porridge bowl and flipping through a magazine as Pierre left the bathroom in just his gray sweatpants. You look up briefly and the spoon almost falls out of your hand.

Those gray sweatpants are your kryptonite. And he knows it! They hang loose and low around his hips, the waistband of his boxers and his V-line quite visible. Although he has no erection, his cock stands out clearly. His hair still wet and some strains of hair were stuck to his forehead. His skin was noticeably tanned again from the Abu Dhabi sun and defined his muscles at a different level. His body hair had lightened a bit.

Again he had the cell phone to his ear and discussed something in French with the caller. He tapped barefoot into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, which you had already prepared for him. Your magazine was long forgotten. Thinking of your hot boyfriend and his incredible upper body, you nibble on your spoon with your lips and suck on it from time to time. Pierre doesn't pay any attention to you, at least you think that, because he doesn't look at you and continues to talk on the phone. You continue to languish shamelessly at him. Pierre keeps stroking his own chest and you wish your hands would touch his incredible body. Pierre turns away from you and now you can admire his wonderful back. You love his broad and muscular shoulders, his bull neck and the strong lower back muscles. Still visible from last night, some streaks from your nails on his shoulder blades, as he fucked you without restraint. Not to mention his well-shaped butt, which looks perfect in those gray sweatpants.

Pierre ends the call and now looks at you. Hands propped on the countertop so his arm muscles are tense.

"You have to stop looking at me like this when I'm having important calls," he admonishes you, looking at you seriously. You feel caught and put your spoon down on the table. Pierre's expression changes immediately and he grins cheekily at you. He could never be angry with you, especially not when it comes to the most beautiful triviality in the world.

"Come here." he asks you gently, holding out his hand and you listen to his word. You are crazy about him and would do anything for him.

As soon as you stand in front of him, he pulls you into a tight embrace and lets his big hands roam over your back, down to your butt. He loves it when you put on tight yoga pants, your butt always looks fantastic in them. His hands are now kneading your butt cheeks and your arms are wrapped around his neck. Your foreheads are leaning against each other and your noses are touching.

"I have to leave in two days already." he sighs softly. You had hoped to spend a little more time with him, however you were aware that you would not have an ordinary relationship with him. You knew that you would have a long distance relationship. But your time together is incomparable and makes up for any separation.

Pierre's hands grip tightly into your butt cheeks once again and the next moment he lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs wrap around his middle, pulling him even closer to you. You feel his semi-hard cock through the fabrics on your now wet core.

"What's our sex high score in a day again?" he asks against your lips, then kisses you.

"Probably 5..." you say inbetween kisses, "Maybe 6."

"Hmmh, I think we can top that." he grins into the next kiss.

"Then we shouldn't waste time." you agree with him, opening and taking off your track jacket. Pierre's hands literally fly to your sports bra and massage your tits through the elastic fabric.

Your hands wander from his neck into his hair. By now it was half dry and it was getting a little curly. You love it when his hair is wild and untamed. Pierre's hands are on another foray and find themselves at your waistband. Quickly you prop yourself up on the countertop with your arms so that Pierre pulls down both your tight gym pants and your thong in one go, tossing both carelessly behind him. You spread your legs and present yourself to him shamelessly. Pierre licks his lips. You naked, in his kitchen is an image that he would keep in his mind forever. Pierre also eagerly pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, both landing in a puddle of fabric around his ankles. You slide even closer to the edge of the countertop. Pierre immediately seizes this opportunity and grabs his cock to slide it through your already glistening folds.

"Ouh, already so wet for me." Pierre murmurs and lets his tip roam around your clit. You lay your head back in your neck moaning.

"Do you want to talk or fuck?" you mumble a bit annoyed and start to get impatient.

Pierre has to grin, he loves your unfiltered and direct way. He positions his cock at your hole and thrusts into you bluntly.

You moan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. His hands wrap around your waist to keep his pace even. You want to feel him even deeper inside you and your legs only wrap tighter around his middle.

"Fuck Pierre!" you almost cry out, because by now he's pounding into you recklessly. His pace is getting faster and you know he's about to cum.

You firmly suck the skin on the crook of his neck into your mouth. This will leave a thick hickey and you like the thought of having him marked by you for everyone to see. You were both a few thrusts away from climaxing and as the sweet relief washes over both of you, you linger in the tightly entwined position a little longer.

"You didn't seriously give me a hickey." grumbles Pierre against your collarbone, as he leans his head exhaustedly against your shoulder.

"Oops, sorry..." you say with a grin, and not being sorry at all.

"Cherie, I have photo shoots with the new team. It won't be gone by then..."

"Oh, it’s not that bad." you try to brush off his concerns and examine your artwork. The hickey is more severe than expected, even imprints of your teeth can be seen and your look speaks volumes.

Pierre rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "First the nails and now this..."

"Don't act like you're not into it." you purr as you hop off the countertop and reach for your underwear. As you bend over for it, Pierre gives you a hard slap on your bare ass.

"Such a naughty Madame." he grins.

"The only thing to blame is that gray sweatpants..."

"Thank God for those fucking gray sweatpants!" he mutters as he slips the said pants back over his butt.

#pierre gasly #pg10 #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 smut #pierre gasly imagine #f1 x reader

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Reader and Alejandro interactions that make Simon jealous and a wee bit insecure. Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

____ pulled into the underground parking lot of the apartment complex, sighing. She had just come back from an underwhelming meeting with her editor. 

She had proudly submitted the first few chapters of her manuscript, hoping they would be a hit, but was instead bombarded with the many suggestions of changes that should be made; while the plot itself was alright, the main complaint had to do with the male lead. 

“Frederick is not captivating or interesting enough. He needs more depth and personality… Definitely something different from Elystran,” the voice of the editor echoed in her thoughts as she killed the engine of her car and stepped out of the car. The thought of it once again made her shoulders slump with disappointment. 

Just as she did, out of the elevator across her parking spot came Alejandro. He spotted her and smiled. “Hey,” he greeted, twirling his car keys around his finger. 

“Hey, where you off to? I thought you were at work already.” 

He shrugged, “Took a day off for a doctor's appointment.”

“What happened?” 

“Nasty back pain,” he sighed. Then noticing her dull spirits, he asked if she was okay. 

“Yeah, I just came back from a meeting with the editor and apparently, I have a lot of stuff to change in my manuscript.” 

“Ah,” he nodded solemnly, “I'm sorry to hear that.” 

She shrugged. “It is what it is.” 

Alejandro was silent for a moment, unsure whether to ask whatever he had on his mind. He decided to just go for it. “Do you mind if I read the manuscript? I'd like to see what it's all about. Maybe get a sneak peek into your next book too.” He winked at her. 

“I was actually thinking of asking you just that.” She beamed, happy that he asked. 

Alejandro raised his eyebrows. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Actually, most of the problems in my manuscript are with the male lead, so I think your valuable input as a man would really help me out. And your general opinion as a reader too.” 

The man couldn't help but feel flattered. “Is that so? Then I'd be happy to help you out. Just send me the manuscript and I'll read it soon.” He threw his car keys in the air and caught it in his rugged, tan hand and smiled. 

“Perfect.” Just as she was about to say something else, she got a notification on her phone, which she immediately took out, hoping it was a message from the editor changing his mind about the manuscript. 

But it was Simon. Though a little disappointed, she still smiled, and he noticed.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, raising his eyebrows teasingly at her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, grinning. She kept the phone back in her pocket, deciding to answer him later. 

Alejandro found it a little odd that she wouldn’t reply to Simon immediately, but he figured, “Maybe it’s just me,” and decided to let it be. 

“I’m offended you didn’t tell me you started dating,” he smirked, playfully putting on a tone of feigned offense as he put his hand on his chest. “How’d you two meet?”

She laughed at his dramatics and then briefly related the incident to him. 

“So you two started dating only a month and a half after meeting each other? That's… quick.” Alejandro remarked, raising his eyebrow. He knew people could fall in love at first sight, but that wasn’t the case with everyone. 

“Yeah,” her voice squeaked and her gaze faltered; she cursed herself for it. “We found a lot in common and… hit it off.” 

“Hm…” he exhaled, noticing the vagueness and lack of conviction in her voice and body language, but decided not to comment on it, not wanting to jump into conclusions too soon. “Well, good for you. I’m glad you found someone,” he said with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He then looked at his watch. “I should get going. Don’t wanna be late for the appointment.” 

“Alright, see you later!” she said with some eagerness, wanting to end the conversation, for she didn't know how else she could cover up. 

“See ya, muñequita.” 

Simon had recently followed ____’s spam/personal account, and saw that the skeleton plushie made a very frequent appearance. It showed up even on her main account to her tons of followers. 

The story on her personal account posted late in the morning showed the skeleton perched against her laptop screen along with the caption, “Serious writer’s block rn. He’s cheering me on!”

The next image, posted three hours later was of Alejandro in front of a laptop that looked like hers, captioned, “@-alevargas is giving me some pointers. He's ruthless 💀”

Simon grunted, feeling a spurt of jealousy. He rolled over on his side on Gaz's sofa, nearly kicking Johnny– who was seated on the floor– on the back of his head. 

He didn't hear his friend's yelp as he was too busy feeling bummed that she didn't ask him, especially after the two shared meaningful conversations over her novel before. 

“It's not like I can control who she chooses to share her work with,” he told himself resignedly, “Besides, we're just friends. I'm not supposed to be feeling jealous like this.” 

Yet he couldn't help it. 

Simon decided to scope out his competition by paying a visit to Alejandro's Instagram page. Upon reaching there, he found that the man was an up-and-coming part time model with a fair amount of followers. Even though Simon saw him in real life and found him to be a handsome man, his modeling photographs rendered him dangerously handsome; he had perfectly tanned skin, thick glossy black waves styled gorgeously to suit his masculine features, straight pearly whites for teeth, a near perfect five o'clock shadow, an athletic and muscular body, and a dazzling smile characteristic of motivational speakers. He was Mexican, to top it off, which meant that he most definitely was an outgoing and energetic guy. 

Simon felt his confidence fade into insignificance. Here was a man perfect in every respect like an expertly cut diamond, and compared to him, Simon felt like an ugly, misshapen rock. His own features contrasted with Alejandro's in his brooding, glaring eyes, his pale skin, thin lips, crooked teeth, his somber and quiet outward personality, and most of all, his marred face and body. 

He immediately exited Instagram and dropped the phone on his chest, sighing. “Yeah, with a bloke like him as competition, there's no way I'm winning,” he thought to himself, now resting his arm over his forehead. 

“Oi, Ghosty,” Johnny nudged Simon's leg with his elbow. 

The familiar nickname irked him all of a sudden, as it felt like a reminder of his flaws. “What?” he asked, trying not to sound snappy. 

“Did ye ask ____ if she wants tae come for our one night camp?”

Simon grunted. “I'll ask later.” 

“No. Yer gonna forget. Also, tell her that Lindsey is coming too.” 

Lindsey. Simon remembered Johnny telling him about her soon after he confessed their stalking. A short, freckled, ginger girl; Johnny spoke about her a lot and with excitement too, even calling her ‘Jolene’ in reference to the Dolly Parton song. Simon wasn't particularly surprised that Johnny was gallivanting with yet another lady; that's what he had always been doing since high school. His wit, charm, smiles, energy, and particularly his Scottish accent recommended him greatly to the opposite sex. He only hoped that Lindsey wouldn't take him too seriously. 

Simon picked his phone back up and sent a quick text to ____  about the camping trip and its general details. No sooner was he about to throw his device aside on the coffee table to pay more attention to Gaz who was playing his electric guitar nearby, her reply came. 

Author Girl: of course I'd love to come!  Simon Riley: great. I'll let you in on more details later Simon Riley: Johnny has invited your friend too apparently Author Girl: Really? She didn't even tell me. Simon Riley: u better ask her about it then. 

There appeared to be a slight delay in her reply even though she was online, and he wondered what she was up to. Finally, a reply came after two minutes. 

Author Girl: I'll do that :)  Simon Riley: Are you busy?  Author Girl: yeah kind of. Alejandro is giving me some suggestions for my story

He felt a twinge of jealousy again. “He's still there? At this point, maybe they make a better pair than she and I,” he thought despairingly. 

Simon Riley: yeah, I saw ur Instagram story. How's it coming along?  Author Girl: it's coming along great. We're almost done here Simon Riley: he's at your place?  Author Girl: yeah, he came over to give me some enchiladas he made and I invited him to come in. 

Another twinge of jealousy, and another skill to add to Alejandro's repertoire. 

Simon was so close to typing, “I wish you invited me instead,” but immediately deleted it. 

Simon Riley: cool.  Simon Riley: I'll leave you two then, I got other things to do Author Girl: sure. I'll text u back soon :)  Simon Riley: alright. Cheers

She noticed how he went offline so quickly and stared at her phone for a moment. “Is it just me or did he seem a little off?” she wondered to herself, hoping she wasn't reading too much into it. She shrugged it off, thinking it had to do with whatever he was busy with. 

“Muñequita?” Alejandro's voice interrupted her reverie.

Her eyes snapped back to the man sitting across her. “Yes?” she smiled, not realising she had been engrossed with Simon. 

He looked at the clock on her wall. “I should get going now. It's gotten late,” he said, now placing her laptop on the coffee table and rising. 

“Oh right, I've kept you here long enough,” she chuckled as she rose too. “Wait here for a moment.” 

Alejandro, confused and curious, stood by the coffee table as he watched her disappear behind her kitchen door. She soon appeared with a can of soda, which she put in his hand. 

“That's for you, as thanks for the enchiladas and helping me out,” she said, grinning at him. 

He chuckled and playfully gave her forehead a gentle knock with the edge of the cold can. “Thanks, muñequita,” he smirked, opening the tab of the can with a single finger and taking a long sip of the soda. “Well,” he began as soon as the sip was drowned, “I'll be off now. Good night.” 

“Good night, Alejandro. Take care,” she said as she walked him to the door. 

“You too, nena,” he gave her a little smile. “Call me if you need any more help, alright? I'll be at your beck and call,” he said only half-jokingly, giving her a wink. 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “You don't need to do that, but I'll let you know.”

As soon as he left, she breathed a heavy sigh. The conversation with Alejandro was fruitful, but she was exhausted. She decided to decompress and wind down for the night by taking a nice, long shower and a soak in the bathtub. She then had a simple dinner and just before bedtime, she was found on her bed in her satin pajamas and her phone, cuddled with the cushions and plushies; Little Simon, the most preferred and well loved, was tucked under her arm and pressed against her breast. 

Her cute animal video marathon was interrupted by a message from (Bigger) Simon. 

Simon Riley: wyd? Are you busy?  Author Girl: watching videos. Hbu?  Simon Riley: [photo]  Simon Riley: watching a film with the lads. It's boring 

The photo showed a glowing television screen in a dark room, and a little cameo of Johnny's familiar mohawk at the bottom as he was seated on the floor in front of Simon. 

Simon Riley: I'd rather talk to you

She felt her heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: I hope I'm not disturbing you btw Author Girl: no no you're not Author Girl: tbh I'd rather be talking to you too 😂

It was now Simon's turn to feel his heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: good, because I'm in for a conversation  Author Girl: what do u wanna talk about?  Simon Riley: hmm Simon Riley: how did it go with Alejandro? 

Unbeknownst her, Simon had to revise that text several times so as to not make himself sound unnecessarily overprotective, prying, and smothering. He hoped that he sounded casual and carefree enough. 

Author Girl: went well. He gave me a lot of pointers for my male characters. My editor wasn't so happy with my male lead so I had to consult an actual guy to help me out Simon Riley: you could've asked me Author Girl: yeah well Alejandro was the first guy I came across so I thought I'd ask him. I was going to ask a bunch of different guys too so I'll be asking you next 😁 Simon Riley: good. I'll be glad to help.  Simon Riley: btw about the trip Simon Riley: I need to fill u in w the finer details. Can I call you rn?  Author Girl: sure

She sat up straight on the bed with bated breath. Though he had a few phone calls with him, she still felt a little bit nervous. She was about to get lost in her thoughts when the blaring of her ringtone made her jump with fright. She scrambled to pick up the call. 

“Hey!” she squeaked in a high pitch, and immediately cleared her throat. 

“Hi darling,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate; she could hear him smiling. “You alright? You seem a little… I don't know, surprised?”

“No,” she said breathlessly, “No, no, I'm fine.” She chuckled. When she heard the faint sound of traffic on his side, she asked, “Are you out already?” 

“Just the balcony,” he answered.” How could you tell?”

“I could hear some traffic.” 

“You're sharp,” he complimented. 

She smiled. “Thanks. Now, what did you want to discuss?” 

“Right, yes,” his voice immediately turned serious. He gave her all the finer details of the trip for a few minutes and at the end of it, he asked, “We're planning on using a car to get there since it's gonna be the five of us and it will save on petrol. Do you think we could use your car?” 

“Well if my car is in good enough condition for you, then I don't mind,” she said, a hint teasingly. 

He chuckled. “If I check it and find anything wrong, I'll give you a bollocking,” he teased back. 

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes, smiling, “You gave me enough of a bollocking the other day when my battery died. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

She heard him laugh, and like it always did, her heart melted. 

“You deserved it,” he scoffed. “But anyway, batteries and bollockings aside, you're okay with your car being used?”

“Absolutely.” 

“And you're comfortable driving long distances? Like I said, it will be a three hour drive, which is quite long by European standards.” 

“I'm okay with it. It's been a long time since I've driven that long though.” 

“Don't worry, if you're tired, I'll take your place.” 

“You? But didn't you say you were a bad driver?” she smirked. 

He could hear her smirking and thought he'd try to make her laugh. “If I try really hard, I can avoid hitting a tree.” 

She burst out laughing. “You're banned from the driver's seat!”

He smiled, gratified. “Whatever shall I do,” he said sarcastically, smiling and shaking his head. 

“If you can prove that you won't hit anything within the first five minutes of the drive, then maybe I'll consider letting you drive for longer,” she challenged, shifting in her seat on the bed and running her finger over the contours of Little Simon on her lap. 

“Challenge accepted,” he said with a self-assured snort. 

She smiled at his confidence and willingness. “So where are we all meeting again?” she asked. 

“At my place. I'll send you directions for it after this.”

“Okay,” she exhaled, now thinking of what his place looked like. What sort of decor and aesthetic he preferred, what sort of colors he liked, and if he kept house plants. 

The two continued to converse a little more until their eyes felt heavy and they started yawning. 

“Are your friends still watching the movie?” she asked, by this time half sitting up and half laying down on her bed. 

“I think it's almost over,” Simon, who was still seated in the balcony, looked over his shoulder at Gaz and Johnny who had their eyes still glued to the television set, despite them having melted into the sofa. “You sound sleepy, darling. You should go.” 

“Hmm…” she sighed. “But I don't want to go,” she whined in a soft, sleepy mumble. 

“Why not?” he questioned smilingly, not wanting her to hear how her sleepy whine was making him melt. 

“I like talking to you,” she replied in a tone that was trying to convince him to stay. She rolled over on her side, holding Little Simon close to her chest. 

The man's distant eyes softened as he heard this and he felt a little tickle in his stomach. His voice deepened, quietened, and mellowed as he replied, “Same here, my darling, but we'll talk again soon, alright? You sound like you're gonna fall asleep right now.” 

He heard another little whine, and he chuckled, unable to stop finding her cuteness so endearing and sweet. “Go on now,” he encouraged gently. 

She finally relented. “Good night, Simon,” she said in a half-whisper. 

“Good night, my love.” 

There ended the call, and Simon kept his phone on his thigh, feeling his face turn warm against the cool, damp air of the outdoors. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. 

“Fuck me…” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. 

This phone call was a huge boost to his earlier insecurity. Their banter, her acting cute, her not wanting to stop talking to him was evidence enough that she preferred him over Alejandro. He could only hope that his hunch was right and that she wasn't doing the same thing with the other man. 

When the sound of her puppy-like whine echoed in his mind again, he groaned, wishing he could punch a wall so he could feel manly again. 

Any more, and she was going to be the death of him. 

The same woman, blissfully unaware of how her unintentional cuteness affected Simon, was now half-asleep on her bed, fingers curled loosely around her phone, and Little Simon nestled under her arm. 

“Elystran, from your first book, was bubbly and energetic. So I think that it would make sense for Frederick to be a little more reserved and aloof, but someone with power and authority, unyielding, and kind to nobody but Adelheid. Maybe if you knew someone with similar traits like these, you could use them as a model.” Alejandro's words from their earlier discussion echoed in her thoughts. 

Like lazily floating clouds on a clear summer's day, her thoughts drifted, trying to think of who would make the perfect model. 

Her thoughts settled on one man: 

“Simon.”

End of Part 7.

Part 8

Thank you all for your love on this series! I enjoy writing this and all your wonderful likes, comments, and reblogs fuel my passion some more. It's sm fun to write fluff; too bad I don't see a lot of it on tumblr lol. But anyway, thank you all once again. Remember, if you enjoyed this and want to be notified for updates, leave a comment so that I can add you to my tag list. x

#call of duty #aoioozora writes #Simon series #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fluff #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfictions #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #cod ghost fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley

[idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy]

Hello! I'm not really used to leaving requests but, was wondering if it's okay if we have a 1610 miles with a reader who has braces and is kinda struggling with yk the bands they forget to put them on someti or has an occasional lisp that can happ by mere accident and they just feel embarrassed about it?

Thank you! If this is weird or confusing feel free to igno i!

Him with braces!reader - Miles 1610

A/N: I decided to make this headcannon style cause I think this is such a cute concept!!🥰🥰

BE PREPARED FOR: FLUFF AND THATS PRETTY MUCH IT😭😭

———————————————————————————

• He loves your braces and thinks they suit you so well

• He also finds your lisp very adorable and doesn’t like you to get embarrassed about it.

•He loves your little smile and how your brackets shine.

•When you try to cover up your smile in pictures/selfies he’s quick to catch it and shut it down

“¿Por qué no sonríes mamita, tu tan adorable?”

•You hated when you had braces at first but he’s brought out a new confidence in you to make you feel proud of them.

•You would probably get your bracket and rubberband colors in his spidey colors (black and red) or just colors of his choice.

•He would keep a little reminder in his phone for you to put your rubber bands on. Cause he knows you tend to forget.

There was also an error with the reminder I put “take off your rubber-bands when I meant to add put on so please excuse that!

———————————————————————————

• If your parents are busy working and can’t take you to your retightening appointments in time he will definitely be happy to. Helping you pick your new colors and buying you food afterwards!

•He’s very serious about the foods you eat and making sure you follow the rules, so no chewing gum on his watch!

•If your super tired during one of your sleepovers and ready to go to sleep but don’t wanna take out your rubber-bands he will happily do it for you. He loves doing acts of service!

He’s a very supportive boyfriend 🥰🥰🥰

———————————————————————————

I had a lot more fun writing this than I thought I would!

I’m always writing Miles 42, which don’t get me wrong I love him, but he’s more stoic and hard, atleast that’s how I write him, so I love being a little more fluffy and writing 1610! Thanks for this requests and thanks for reading 💖💖💖💖😁

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #prowler miles #earth 42 miles #miles morales prowler #earth 1610 miles #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles x reader #braces #m a c e ’s c r e a t i o nミ★

[octuscle]

Hey there. I guess I need help with my chronivac. In my neighborhood there are more and more Arabic and Turkish men. It doesn't bother me that they are Arabic or Turkish or whatever. But they all look so extremely good - nice hair, nice beard, nice tan, nice bulges, extremely self confident... and I'm starting to get a little jealous, cause I'm a chubby, shy, white German (Alman).

Now the real Problem - the chronivac basic settings can't help me and the chronivac pro settings are way too complicated for me. So I hope you can help and change me to become less jealous in my neighborhood.

Okay, let's see how chronivac pro premium support can help you.

On your way to the subway in the morning, you usually grab a coffee to go at the kiosk in your ecologically sustainable reusable mug and buy a Süddeutsche Zeitung. But this morning you forgot your mug. So you order a Turkish mocha, which you drink directly at one of the bar tables. You also get a sesame seed curl and the BILD newspaper. For the first time, you talk to the owner of the kiosk. You've been a customer here for years. You take a second mocha and buy a pack of cigarettes. Fuck, then you're in the office half an hour later. Who cares?

You don't give a shit that smoking is not allowed on the platform. You blow your smoke onto the platform out of the subway and just throw the cigarette out onto the floor, while the doors are closing. And you snot right after it.

The work in the office pisses you off today. Boring chatter, unproductive meetings. During the lunch break, your colleagues are talking about Turkey's role in the Ukraine conflict. When you say that Erdogan is a great leader and that you would like to see more statesmen like him, everyone stares at you in disbelief. Fuck, that's right. Most heads of state are effeminate losers! We need more men who can thump their fists on the table. Like Erdogan and Putin.

You're glad when you can finally call it a day. You need a reward. Just normal people around you. You allow yourself a visit to the new barber store on your street. On the street in front of it a group of young men smoking. You have to wait only one cigarette length for a free appointment. You let one of the guys give you a light and smoke a cigarette with them. And then you sit down in the barber's chair. Can is an artist. You love the way he shapes your beard, makes your skull look more angular with the undercut, and trims your sprawling eyebrows. And he makes a damn good mocha.

When Can takes away the hairstyling cape, you're more than satisfied. Yes, to your brothers here, you're just an infidel. But you fit in quite well visually. Sure, most bros are better worked out than you. But you don't have to hide. It's just that you are so pale that annoys you. That's why you go directly before training on the tanning bed in the gym after the haircut . And so that the sweating is really worth it, after pumping up to the sauna. Hammam would be better, but there is no such thing in your discount gym.

It doesn't show that you are not a Turk or an Arab. And since you speak fluent Turkish, Arabic and Albanian, no one in the sauna would suspect that you have a German passport. Infidel! No matter what they think of you. The main thing is that nothing can separate you and your brothers!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #race change #sweat soaked

[beautification-tales]

The Flight part 1

An Outbreak Story

Holly had always wondered what it felt like to be on a yacht. The white, billowing sails stretched taut against the blue sky, the sea breeze carrying the salty scent of the ocean. As she stepped onto the luxurious vessel, her eyes darted around, taking in the gleaming teak deck, the shiny fiberglass hull, and the well-appointed cabins. She couldn't help but marvel at the sheer extravagance that surrounded her.

She walked confidently on the deck ready to sunbathe her bright blue bikini hugging her curves. As she stretched out on one of the plush loungers, she felt the warmth of the sun on her skin. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, and she closed her eyes, letting the peaceful sounds of the ocean lull her into a state of relaxation. She felt a tap on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Standing before her was the yacht's owner, a handsome, middle-aged man dressed casually in khaki shorts and a polo shirt.

"Hey baby." he asked with a warm smile. "You are looking magnificent as always." Holly smiled as she arched her back looking up at him. “Babe, what did I say about wearing khaki shorts? You’re a millionaire and this is your ship. Now take them off sailor.” He chuckled and started to unbutton his shorts. She watched as they fell to the deck revealing his tan, muscular legs. He climbed onto the lounger next to her and propped himself up on one elbow.

“Did you hear the news about the outbreak?” The man asked in a woman’s voice. “Huh? What outbreak?” Holly shook her head as the man became fuzzy. She closed her eyes and opened them again. A black haired flight attendant was standing in front of her in the galley. She pulled her phone out and showed the story to Holly. Holly sighed as she realized she was no longer in her fantasy but back on her shift on the international flight. Holly held Lucy’s phone and read the article. Holly nervously bit her nails and wiped her uniform off as she read. “It says it’s airborne already.” Holly groaned. “I can’t do another Covid!” She handed the phone back to good friend Lucy.

“Yeah! But it’s like a weird disease. Some people get really sick but others….” Lucy trailed off not knowing how to explain it. “Others.. what Lucy?” Holly asked, her voice tense. “Well they change but it’s like hard to believe what I was reading.” Lucy said nervously, looking around the galley. Holly nodded, feeling a chill run down her spine. They both knew they had to focus on their jobs, but the news was hard to ignore. Holly bit her nails again before asking. “You think it might have reached Australia yet?” Holly asked as they had just left the country on their way to L.A.

Lucy shrugged, looking worried. They both knew it was only a matter of time before they found out. In the meantime, they had to go back to their duties. Holly attended to the first class passengers as she eyed the middle aged man reading from his paper. “Sir?” she said politely, trying to catch his attention. The man looked up from his screen, his blue eyes meeting hers. He smiled warmly.

“Umm, is there anything I can get you, sir? Another drink? A snack perhaps?" Holly asked, trying to catch his attention. The man shook his head, his smile never wavering. "No, thank you, Holly. I'm just catching up on some work here. You know how it is." He chuckled, and she couldn't help but smile back. "Of course, sir. I'm here if you need anything."

Holly brought the cart back to the galley as she found Lucy sitting reading from her phone. Holly wanting to distract Lucy brought up a new subject. “Hey did you see the guy in L6?” She asked, motioning to the business class section of the plane. Lucy nodded, looking up from her phone. “Yeah that’s Brent Book he owns that new tech company. Heard he was a real playboy back in the day. Not bad for his age though, huh? I wonder what he does on these flights...." Holly grinned, imagining the possibilities.

“I bet he still flies commercial because he has a thing for flight attendants.” Holly winked, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. She glanced over at the man in question, wondering what it would be like to be with someone like that. Holly was a sweet competent flight attendant but desired the life Lucy and many of her colleagues had. Holly was a bit average looking and her friends like Lucy got all the attention. Lucy was always glued to her phone because she had over 100 k followers on TikTok. Lucy would brag and show off the hundreds of DM’s she received as Holly read them with envy. Rich businessman and eligible bachelors would take her on amazing dates as Holly spent nights alone in her hotel.

“Oh yeah?” Lucy said as she got up from her bucket seat. “Let’s see if I can get his number.” Lucy adjusted her stockings and breasts as she walked into business class pretending to check on passengers. Lucy reached Brent’s seat and leaned down with a seductive look. Holly looked on with jealousy as Brent laughed and talked with Lucy.

A bell went off and it was a passenger in economy in . “Just great.” Hollly grumbled as she put on her fake smile and went to help them. As she reached the passenger she saw he was shivering and sweating at the same time. His face was pale as he rubbed his shoulders. “How can I help you?” Holly asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “Yes, I’m feeling really cold all of a sudden. Can I get a blanket?” The man asked, his voice barely a whisper. Holly nodded and went to get him a blanket from the galley. As she returned the man coughed in his hand as Holly leaned over to hand him the blanket. The man sneezed violently as fluid hit Holly’s face. “Are you ok sir? Are you feeling sick?” Holly asked, her face now inches from his. “No, so sorry about that. I am just feeling cold. Thank you for the blanket.”

Holly and Lucy exchanged stories when they met in the back again. “So he said he doesn’t go on TikTok but he has one for his company.” Lucy explained. Holly nodded, a little disappointed. Holly continued to wipe her face. “You are so lucky Lucy. You got to flirt with an almost billionaire while I was in the bathroom rinsing snot off my face. Ew I can still feel it. I think some got into my eyes.” She said, rubbing her face with a tissue.

“Yuck…. What if he’s infected?” Lucy whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “ Don’t you fucking go there Lucy!” Holly snapped, her tone harsher than she intended. They both looked at each other, Lucy heard a notification ping from her phone. “Oh my God! His company is following me now! Look!” She showed Holly her phone, Brent Book's company was now following her on TikTok. Holly couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. “Aaagh fuck your TikTok Lucy!” She yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. “Ok? Rude!” Lucy snapped back, crossing her arms. Holly went to her bucket seat as Lucy did the same. Holly began biting her nails as she read about the outbreak on her phone.

The captain's voice came over the intercom, announcing that the flight was halfway over The Pacific Ocean on target for L.A. Holly glanced at the clock, her heart racing. She couldn't shake the thought of the sick man from her mind. Lucy seemed to be oblivious to her friend's distress, busily engrossed in her phone, seeing if any celebrities slid into her DM’s. Holly felt sleepy as she felt her eyes closing.

It was two hours later that Holly woke up in a sweat. She felt her throat was dry and she was shivering uncontrollably. She glanced around and saw that Lucy was fast asleep, oblivious to her friend's distress. Holly struggled to sit up, her head throbbing with pain. As she grabbed a bottle she guzzled it all in seconds. It was then she heard a ping from business class. She forced herself to stand, her legs wobbly, and walked unsteadily to the curtain. Holly felt a bit woozy and heavy. She approached Brent who was deep in his phone. “Can I help you sir?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah Lucy, I was looking at your TikTok and…” Brent finally looked up and adjusted his glasses. “I’m so sorry you’re not Lucy.” He said, his face flushed.

“No, I can get her for you.” Holly said, her voice barely audible. She felt dizzy and her vision was starting to blur. Brent looked at her strangely. He sat up and said. “No, that’s ok but what’s your name?” Holly forced a smile. “Holly sir.” Brent gave a confused look. “Really? I could have sworn there was another flight attendant named Holly on this flight. I haven’t met you. Are you an influencer like Lucy?” Holly felt confused as he noticed Brent looked a bit uncomfortable as his hands were in his lap.

“Umm are you ok Mr. Book?” Holly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and it seemed to intensify the more she stared. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and she could see his face get red at her question. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine and please call me Brent.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it came out a little strained.

Holly quickly glanced down at Brent’s hands and could see that he was covering a bulge. She could feel her face heat up and her heart start to race. She knew what was causing that bulge, and it made her even more nervous. "Of course, Brent. Is there anything I can get you?” she asked, trying not to stare at his pants. “Not right now but I have a feeling I might need assistance later.” He winked at her, making her blush even deeper. She quickly looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

Holly walked quickly to the galley. Lucy was still dozing away. Holly rushed into the bathroom and almost squealed at what she saw. The woman in the reflection was completely different. She was looking at this stunning blonde woman in her uniform. The hair was a bit disheveled but her body was slightly bigger. She looked down and fully realized how her bust was more pronounced. She reached and cupped her right breast, feeling the weight of it. "Oh momma like," she thought with a sly smile. She noticed her nail bitten fingernails were gone replaced by red nails that matched her red lips.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She remembered Brent’s reaction at seeing her. She smiled “So this is what it’s like being hot!” she thought to herself. As she continued to explore her new curves, she noticed something else. There was a strange tingling sensation between her legs. She had never experienced anything like it before. She couldn't help but wonder what it was and if it had anything to do with what was happening to her.

Holly left the galley with a bottle of water in her hand. She made it to Brent’s seat and took the cap off the bottle. “Hey, I thought you could use some water. Oh no! I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy!” Holly had dropped a few drops onto the crotch of Brent. He jumped a little in his seat but smiled at Holly. “It’s ok… not a big deal really. It’s not that much…” he said, trying to be polite. “No this is my fault! Let me help you clean up.” She quickly ran and got a towel as she began dabbing at Brent’s stain. “It’s ok.. I think it should …ungh.” Brent groaned as Holly knelt in the aisle and began rubbing at his crotch. Brent’s eyes widened as he looked at Holly’s sensual focused face. “Don’t worry Mr. Book. I’ll have you cleaned up in no time.” Her words were dripping with confidence. Holly laid the towel down as she continued to rub at Brent’s crotch.

She looked up at him and smiled, "Like I said. It was my fault so I need to take care of it.” Brent’s became red as he realized what was actually happening. He looked down her cleavage and licked his lips. “Oh no. I think it may have reached your boxers. Let me help you.” Holly said as she leaned over even more to get a closer look. She unbuckled his pants as Brent attempted to stop her. “Shhh, let me do my job.” She whispered, seductively. As she pulled down his boxers, Brent gasped, revealing his throbbing arousal. Holly looked up at him with a wicked grin.

She grasped his member as he shivered. He covered his mouth not wanting to wake the other passengers. Holly continued to stroke him, her grip firm and confident. She leaned closer and whispered, "I know just how to take care of this." Brent's heart raced as she increased her speed. Brent grabbed onto the sides of his seat as the pleasure was immense. “Ungh fuck!” He cried as he could feel himself close to release.

As she continued, Brent felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He tried to hold back, but it was no use. Holly could feel him twitching and knew what was coming soon. Brent erupted as almost a river of cum shot out of his cock. He completely relaxed as Holly took the towel and cleaned him. She pulled up his boxers and buckled his belt. “There we go. I’m so glad I could assist you. Remember to buckle your safety belt when the Captain turns on the light.” Brent in complete shock of what just happened nodded and smiled. He felt so relaxed that he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Holly wanted more. She had felt something unleashed in her. She was sexy, she was powerful and she was still horny.

-To Be Continued-

#beautification #transformation #breast expansion #f2f transformation #bimboification #origin stories #beauty is power #slutification #flight attendant

[jungle-angel]

Playing Doctor (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett will literally do anything to get out of going to the doctor, but a little roleplaying goes a long way

Warnings: SMUT, parenthood, Rhett trying to get out of going to the doctor's, cancer scare etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @bradleybeachbabe @callmemana @attapullman @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist

You groaned when you saw the number for the missed call on the answering machine for the phone in the kitchen.

"You ok hon?" Cecelia asked as she began prepping the raw green beans for dinner.

"That's the third time this week," you huffed. "Rhett was supposed to go for a doctor's appointment on Friday and it's Tuesday."

Cecelia chuckled a little. "Typical Rhett," she said. "Him and Royal are two of the same. They'll think of any excuse to not go, they both hate going."

"I know Cece, it's just annoying," you sighed, helping her snap off the ends of the green beans.

"Annoying as it is, they still need to be careful," Cecelia remarked. "Still haven't forgotten Roy's reaction when they found that cyst in my left tit last year"

"Ooooooh."

"Yep," Cecelia continued. "Nasty, nasty stuff. Mom had breast cancer and so didn't Aunt Anna, Aunt Betty and Aunt Mariah."

"Isn't that what Oma Heidi had too?" you asked.

"Oh Roy's mother had it bad," Cecelia answered. "Both his father and my father had it too but part of that was because his father was over in Vietnam and my father smoked for forty two plus years."

You and Cecelia chattered away when you heard Rhett trailing through the door, groaning as he kicked off his boots and hung his tan carhartt jacket up on the hook.

"Hey Ma," he said, greeting his mother cheerfully. "Something smells real good, what's for dinner?"

"The prime rib your father had sitting in the drop freezer," Cecelia answered. "By the way, I think ya'll might've missed something this afternoon."

"Huh?" Rhett said, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"I saw a message on the answering machine from the doctor's office," you said, giving him 'the look'.

"Oh um......yeah about that......ya see, a funny thing happened, Wes called and one of the cows had a breach birth and......"

"RHETT!!!!!"

"Hey ya'll try havin some creepy old dude feelin up your nuggets!" Rhett blurted out. "It's awkward as hell!!"

"Rhett need I remind ya'll that I have to have my tits felt up every six months?" Cecelia reminded him.

"No, but it's still awkward!"

"Oh you wanna talk about awkward?" you chuckled. "You wanna hear about my last gyno appointment?"

"NO!!"

"Well first she takes a speculum, which is like a freezing cold pair of salad tongs and widens the hole a little bit," you explained, delighting in watching him squirm. "And then she takes a little stick and scrapes my cervix......."

"LA LA LA LA!!!!! I CAN'T HEAR YA'LL!!!!" Rhett interrupted, covering his ears. "I can't hear ya'll!!!!"

"MY CERVIX DAMNIT!!!"

Rhett ran right out of the room and hurried upstairs to wash up for dinner, leaving you and your mother-in-law to laugh it off.

*****************************

Rhett fucking HATED being in the doctor's office.

He hated the cold, sterile feeling of the room, the smell of rubbing alcohol, but most of all, that you had managed to lure him to the truck with a trail of mini KitKat bars and the fact that he had been gullible enough to take the bait. But here he was, sitting in Pete's exam room in nothing but his shorts and awaiting the awkwardness that was to ensue.

The door creaked open and in walked Pete, one of only a few doctors in the whole of Wabang who had known the Abbotts since Royal was knee high.

"Ah there's Wabang's favorite bull rider," Pete remarked. "How's it going Rhett?"

"Not alot of complaints Pete," Rhett said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well that's good," Pete said, glancing at his clipboard. "Wow.....looks like the last time you had a physical was the turn of the century."

Rhett made a face and nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you came in when you did," Pete remarked as he began probing Rhett's neck and along his jaw with his fingers. "According to the medical records you had some pretty nasty injuries with a bull last year."

Rhett had remembered clearly the ornery son of a bitch that had landed him in the ER right around the time of Amy's second birthday and having to have concussion tests every two weeks. "Quit the bull riding about a month ago," he said, squirming a little at the feeling of Pete's fingers on his neck.

"Good on you," Pete chuckled. "Told my son the same thing. Deep breath for me."

Rhett took four deep breaths as Pete listened to his lungs and then his heart. Good God he hated the feeling of that thing moving all over his chest and under his left tit and especially along his belly.

"Anything hurt?" Pete asked as his fingertips began probing Rhett's abdomen.

Rhett shook his head.

Good grief his hands were gnarled and cold. He winced a little when Pete felt up around his bellybutton, not from pain but from the uncomfortable wave of awkwardness that washed over him.

"Alright, looks good," Pete remarked. "Mind rolling over on your side for me?"

Rhett rolled over so Pete didn't have to see his face scrunching up, more so when Rhett heard the snap of a rubber glove.

*****************************

You came up from the basement with a pile of freshly dried laundry in the basket. The house was relatively quiet seeing as Amy had gone down for a nap, but the sight of your husband laying on the couch with a grumpy pout on his face told you that something wasn't as it seemed.

"Alright, talk to me cowboy," you said, setting the laundry down near the coffee table. "What happened?"

"Don't wanna talk about it," he said flatly.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. "Come on," you purred, slithering all over Rhett, the same way Garfield usually did. "I know something's up."

"I just had my balls and my asshole diddled by a creepy old dude with gnarled hands," Rhett answered, barely moving.

You snorted and giggled a little.

"I mean it darlin I ain't goin again," Rhett insisted.

"Rhett."

"I mean it."

"Ok, you know what you need?" you said. "I think you need a little help and that entails a little roleplaying."

Rhett arched his eyebrows. "Roleplaying?" he asked.

You nodded. It was something you did with your fifth graders when they were practicing for the spring play and had done with them ever since you had first had them in first grade.

Rhett joined you upstairs in the bedroom as you dug around looking for some things that your friend, Tara, had been storing at the house. You found her extra scrubs and medical equipment while Rhett stripped himself down to his shorts and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"Can I get your name and date of birth sir?" you asked him.

"Only if ya'll buy me dinner first," Rhett answered, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. "Name and date of birth please sir," you told him.

"Mike Rotch, January twenty-nine, ninety three," Rhett answered with a shit eating grin.

"Mike R......NO!!!!!"

Rhett laughed, an annoyed groan escaping your throat as you began to probe his neck and jaw, feeling his lymphnodes for anything out of the ordinary. You could feel the low purr in his throat as he leaned in for a kiss which you couldn't help but return.

"Mind laying back for me?" you asked him.

Rhett lay on his back before you began to gently probe his belly with your fingertips. "Lower," he said. "Just a little lower........nah that's still too high......there you go....."

You rolled your eyes, still feeling lower and lower until you hit pubes. A naughty little thought had bloomed in your head as you took his flaccid dick in your hand.

"Oh woah wait....wait a sec what are you....??" he said before sucking in a breath.

"Oh I'm sorry, where does it hurt? Here?" you asked him cheekily.

Rhett groaned as you slowly gave him a few gentle tugs and rubbed the underside of his balls. "Fuck......feels so good darlin," he hissed.

You took his dick in your hand again, gently massaging and caressing his shaft and his tip with your thumb until he had hardened right in your grip. "You sure it hurts there?"

"Feels so fuckin good," he groaned again, thrusting his hips into your hand.

You leaned up and kissed him full on the lips, your tongue slipping over his bottom lip and into his mouth to sneak a taste of him. "Well hello nurse," Rhett purred.

You giggled as you helped him get the scrubs off. Rhett practically tore your panties off of you, shoving his cock deep inside your already wet pussy. You moaned feeling his lips and tongue on the curve of your neck, his hips ramming into yours with so much force that the bed shook and knocked against the wall. You felt him gutter into you just moments later, the both of you out of breath and thoroughly fucked enough to forget your troubles.

"Feel better?" you asked, your head resting on Rhett's chest.

"Loads better," Rhett purred.

"Think you'll go back once a year from now on?"

Rhett kissed your lips and rolled on top of you, pressing you a bit further into the mattress. "For you darlin? Anything."

And ever since then, you never had a problem getting Rhett to go back to the doctor's office.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #outer range

[mattblackagain]

Written for Honey @d2bm some time ago but as a few of my followers like stories, here it is again.

The Hitchhiker

Part of my job entails driving around the country in a nice car (not mine) visiting dealers for the brand that I work for. It’s not unpleasant; it gets me out from behind a desk and generally people are pleased to see me. It also means spending quite a few hours in a car on my own, with sometimes an overnight stop up north, in Scotland, or the west country. Occasionally, but not as often as I used to, I’ll see a hitchhiker. Usually these are men delivering cars to dealers and finding their own way home, easily recognisable by them carrying trade plates. I sometimes pick these guys up just to see if they have anything interesting to say, but usually they don’t. They just want to get home as quickly as possible.

On this occasion though I spotted a single female. Young and wearing a very short denim skirt, she was holding a tatty piece of cardboard with something scrawled on it that I couldn’t make out. The light was just starting to fade so obviously, spotting her immediate danger and being a gallant chap, I pulled over and wound the passenger window down.

“Warwick?” she asked, poking her pretty face and long dark hair through the window.

“Yes, as it happens!”, I lied. I was actually going nowhere near Warwick but had completed all my appointments for the day and had nothing waiting for me except an empty motel room.

“Jump in”.

“Great! Thanks a lot!”

She opened the door and dumped her pink backpack on the floor of the car. It looked familiar somehow, but I couldn’t think where I’d seen one like it before.

She got in the seat arse first and knees together. She was clearly practised in wearing short skirts, and this skirt was VERY short. It was faded, with a frayed edge that contrasted with her nicely tanned legs. She had just a vest top on, no bra and she didn’t need one. Her small but perky boobs jiggled as she got comfortable and put her belt on. She smelled lovely, fresh and sweet but not overpowering, just clean with the merest hint of perfume. We set off.

“Bit risky isn’t it, hitching on your own I mean? And it’s getting dark”. Yes, for some reason I was turning into her dad. Although she was easily young enough to be my daughter I didn’t really want to draw attention to this fact.

“I know! A friend was supposed to pick me up but they let me down and I didn’t know where the bus station was or anything!” she explained, slightly air-headedly. She had nice teeth, very little makeup, just a bit of mascara and some lip gloss. Must stop staring at her lips, look at her eyes....

“Well, no harm done. You’re safe now, I can drop you off wherever you like”.

“Cool, thanks again! I owe you! By the way, I’m Honey.”

“Pleased to meet you Honey, I’m Matt”.

“Oooo...I like this one!”. She reached forward and turned the radio up. “Perfect” by Exceeder.

“1, 2, 3, 4, let me hear you scream if you want some more. Like ahhhh, push it, push it, watch me work it, I'm perfect” she giggled, arching her back against the seat and pouting.

“You are very cute”, I ventured, trying not to make my leering too blatant.

“Awww! Thanks! You’re not so bad for an older guy!” she smiled. “And I really would like to thank you properly.”

With that, she pulled up the middle of her skirt a few inches to reveal white cotton knickers with little blue and red pictures of ice cream cones on, stretched across her mound. She slipped a hand inside, her knuckles stretching the material still further, then pulled her hand out and popped two fingers in her mouth.

I swerved to narrowly miss a traffic island. Fuck. There was nowhere to pull over though, I’d just have to keep going.

“Hehe, that was close! You concentrate on the road mister and I’ll look after everything else”. She took my left hand and placed it on her tit. I squeezed, rubbing her nipple with my thumb. She pushed her boobs together with her arms to let me grope both with one hand. “Is that what you want mister?” she said, moving my hand down to her crotch. Through the knicker material her mound felt soft, warm and slightly damp. She pushed her hips into my hand as my middle finger ran down the crease.

“Mmmm...yes, do that more please” she moaned, biting her bottom lip. I could smell her pussy now, and I knew what to expect when I pulled her knickers to one side. She was already soaked, and my finger slipped easily between her swollen lips.

“Let me find somewhere to stop before we crash”.

“OK!”, she smiled, and ran her finger across her bottom lip.

We carried on for a couple of miles and, thankfully, a layby appeared. I’d used this one before for a “power nap” on my travels, it had a line of trees between the parking and the road so was relatively secluded, if not that quiet with the traffic going past. It was empty, and the light was fading fast.

As soon as we’d stopped she released her seatbelt and dived in to kiss me. Open mouthed, her tongue finding mine and flicking across my lips in an eagerness that usually only the young possess - one that I’d not felt in a long time.

“I need it in me” she whispered, unbuttoning my shirt. Yes, well, I’d figured that much out already but thanks for confirming. My dick was already straining for attention in my black jeans as she ran her fingers over the bulge. I undid my belt and fly buttons and pulled it out into the cool air. She let out a squeal of delight and dropped her dead down, her hot mouth enveloping my cock head and an inch or two of shaft.

I pushed down on her head, her nose pressed against the inside of my thigh, then let her bob on it, her tongue lashing around the head on each upstroke before pressing down as far as she could. I ran my left hand down her back and rested it there.

She looked up, a string of saliva connecting her lip to my cock. “I want all of it”. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Classy.

“Stay there”, I instructed, opened the driver’s door and got out. With hindsight, maybe I should have tucked my dick away first, but I was on a roll. Fuck it. With my jeans halfway down to my knees I waddled round to her side of the car and opened her door.

“Oooo! Perfect!” she giggled, swivelling on her seat and taking me in her mouth again. At least I could claim to be err...brushing something off the roof with my hand if another car appeared. Cupping my balls in her hand, she want to work on my cock pushing deeper and deeper. “Arrggggh” she gargled, as he head of my cock reached the narrow restriction of her throat.

“Fuck yes!” I blurted out. “Fucking suck it”. She looked up at me as if to signal yes, and I felt her tongue touch my ballsack. Yes, she was good…

Placing one hand on the back of her head, I pushed hard. She had just about taken it all to be fair. I held her there for a few seconds, then released. She came up gasping. “Yesss...” she hissed. “Make me choke on it please!”

Using both hands this time, I pumped her mouth. “Gug, gug, gug…” accompanied by the suction sound of my cock head blocking and then releasing in her throat. She placed her hands on my thighs and looked up for a signal. Not yet Miss, not yet. “Gug, gug”. Her eyes started to water and she pushed her hands against my thighs to signal enough.

Nearly there. Just a little more, petal. “Gug, gug, cough!”. A stream of thick spit burst from her lips, I released her and she inhaled loudly, sucking in deep lungfuls of oxygen like someone who had escaped a submerged car in a river.

“Thank you, Sir”.

Wow, I love being called Sir. Especially by sluts.

“Get up and turn around”.

“Yes, Sir”.

She did as instructed, bending at the waist a little and gripping the roof edge of the car. A quick glance right to check nothing was coming (although I was close) and back to business. Crescents of arse cheeks poked from her knickers, her skirt was halfway up her arse and her legs were perfectly straight. She stood a little on her toes, wiggling.

“Please fuck me”.

Not needing to be asked twice, I pulled her knickers down onto her thighs and squatted down. She lent forward slightly in response, arching her back, as I spread her arse cheeks with my thumbs. Her holes were perfectly clean and shaven, and I was hungry for a taste of both. I poked my tongue between her pussy lips first, which was wet and sweet as expected, then hooked a forefinger into it. My tongue moved up to her brown hole, poking into that tight little starfish. She pushed back onto it, the filthy slut.

There was no need to wait any longer. She was soaking wet and my bulging dick was feeling like it would burst. It needed driving into some flesh. I stood up, and held the head up to her cunt, my balls just catching the elastic of her knickers.. “Is this what you want?” I said, rubbing the head forward and back between her swollen lips.

“Fuck yes! Please!!”

“Please WHAT?”

“Please SIR!”

I pushed, it sank in easily. That familiar wet grip, so perfectly designed, the flesh so firm, yet yielding.

“Oh!!” she gasped. I grabbed her narrow waist with both hands and pushed again, deeper.

“Oh my god, I love it….please”.

I pumped her, running my hands up and down her sides, over her tits, relishing her tight young body. She met my thrusts, pushing back on her heels, then pulling forward onto her toes. I gathered her hair up with both hands, then held it in my left fist and pulled. It smelt wonderful. My right hand returned to her tits, pulling at her vest top to expose them and kneading them like dough balls. Plunging into her faster, her arse slapping against my thighs, I knew it wouldn’t be long before my frustration was released.

“I’m going to….going to….” she whimpered, before reaching back with her hand and dipping her middle fingertip into her asshole. I felt her cunt contract, then she started bucking.

“Oh...oh….YES!! Fuck it! Harder!”

I was seconds behind her. Gripping her waist hard to maximise the length of my thrusts and pulling her onto my cock, using her whole torso as a fuck tube.

“FFFFUUUUUUUCK!!” I yelled as a torrent of cum rose from my balls, ripped through my dick and spurted deep inside her. Pound, pound, pound...timing each thrust with a spurt until finally staying buried in her while I caught my breath, gasping.

“Wow”, was all I could say, before slipping out of her.

“Here, let me”, she said, turning around, squatting down and taking my still half hard dick in her mouth and expertly sucking it clean. One last chance for me to take in the sight of the top of her head bobbing on my cock and commit that vision to my memory. Perfect.

Still slightly wobbly and dazed from the experience, I arranged my clothing and she got some wipes from her backpack. My cum had run down the inside of her legs, and she couldn’t resist running a fingertip through it before tasting it in front of me with a smile. Pure filth. She pulled her knickers up over her squidgy cunt and got in.

We made our way to the street where I dropped her off without saying much, just smiles mostly.

“Thanks again mister!”. She waved, blew me a kiss, spun around and left, that tiny skirt wiggling on her hips as she walked away. I don’t suppose I’ll be lucky enough to see her again. What a girl though. What a honey!

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

alicia

annie had a standing appointment with julia now, a weekly facetime call that was more or less therapy. it seemed clear to annie that julia was suffering from depression, but julia refused to see it at first.

annie found the conversations grueling, as julia was trained enough to evade everything annie wanted to get at. she took to walking down the street to a bar after every call and getting drunk by herself.

she was two drinks in one evening when a pretty girl sat next to her. her name was alicia, and she had blonde hair with pink streaks and very white teeth and seemed almost cartoonishly chirpy, but was also very direct about her flirtation. she told annie she thought she was really hot. annie observed to herself that they had a very similar body type -- thin and tall but with big tits. of coirse, annie was brunette and pale and wore glasses and alicia was blonde and pink and tan - very californian, which was funny because she was a local gal, even had traces of the chicago accent--annie's family had been too upperclass to ever allow traces of such a thing. in elementary school annie had been mocked for her crisp diction by both her classmates and her teachers. that had stopped as soon as annie had grown tits, of course.

alicia very obviously wanted to fuck -- impatiently played with the drink annie bought her, and so when annie proposed they go somewhere, alicia took her immediately back to her apartment, where they had a far-better-than-average makeout session on her couch.

"do you always fuck girls?" annie asked her.

"no," alicia said. "rarely, honestly, but i promise i'm good at it. you?"

"very rarely," annie said. "i'm better at sucking cock."

"hot," alicia said. "you're a slut."

"yeah," annie said.

they moved to alicia's pink bed and got naked. alicia was shaved, and squirmed and thrusted hard against annie's hand while she fingered her. she was so active and exciting in bed that they quickly moved through a few positions. annie was surprised how fast her first and second orgasms came.

alicia was on top of annie when her speech began to slur in a way that was immediately alarming.

annie's medical training clicked in and she told alicia calmly "i think you are having a stroke."

alicia did not seem to comprehend.

annie moved her down on the bed and got her phone from her dress and called 911. she spoke very calmly with the operator who connected her to a doctor as the ambulance departed. the man on the phone immediately clocked that annie was a doctor. she was still on the phone with him keeping alicia in a recovery position when the EMTs came in. annie had not really even considered that they were both completely naked until one of the EMTs offered her a blanket.

later, annie wondered if that was a standard part of the kit they brought in when they knew something like this had happened during sex. she tried to figure out who in her friend group would be the best to ask.

when alicia was gone, in an ambulance, annie got dressed and wondered what to do. she heard a phone ringing and realized with a start that alicia's phone hadn't gone with her. she answered it.

"hello?"

"hey, ali?" said a friendly voice.

"no, uh, no..." annie said. "hi, um, my name is annie ellison, i was here with alicia tonight and... who is this?"

"this is her brother tom,"

"ok great, uh tom, i think she had a stroke--"

"is she okay?"

"i'm not sure. i kept her stabile until the paramedics got here but it seemed pretty serious i--"

"stable? are you a doctor?" it was a little sarcastic, a little edgy.

"yes," annie said.

"oh," he said. "wait, but you called 911? why were you there?"

"i was having sex with her, um, at the time?" annie offered.

"oh, jeez, okay, wow, yeah, so has alicia told you about her condition?"

"condition?"

"alicia has a neurological disorder. this has happened before."

"oh god, okay."

"yeah, stay calm, she should be OK," he said. "listen, i guess, keep her phone on you. i will get in touch with my parents and we'll take it from here but i will keep you in the loop."

annie went home bewildered. robbie was up. he had a girl over, she was asleep naked in their bed. they sat together and she told him all about it. he asked if she needed anything and she laughed and said, "i kind of want to cum?" robbie pulled her into his lap and fingered her until she came. annie slept on the couch that night. in the morning, she woke to the sound of robbie and the girl fucking in the next room.

she came out a few minutes later, a skinny, cute girl in her early 20s, fully shaved, robbie's cum all over her tits and stomach. she was annie sitting on the couch and said, "oh hey! are you robbie's sister?"

"yeah, hi!" annie said.

"nice to meet you, he says you're like, so cool," she said.

"robbie is a sweet boy," annie said.

"sorry about being naked and covered in his cum though," the girl laughed. "i'm casey by the way."

"well that is totally fine, casey, we are pretty open around here."

"i love that," she said, as robbie wandered into the room wet cock dangling. "my parents definitely taught me that sex and nudity are natural."

"you ever see your parents fuck?" annie asked.

casey laughed. "yes actually. they have sex in our hot tub a lot and like, i'll look out the window into the backyard and see my dad railing my mom. it's kind of sweet, right?"

"that is kind of sweet."

"and my dad is very well hung so i am always looking for boys like robbie," casey continued.

"you're so little," annie said. "doesn't it like destroy you?"

"well, that's the goal, right?" casey laughed. "who doesn't want to be fucked to death?"

"oh man, too soon," robbie said.

"what?" casey said.

annie told casey about the alicia situations. her mouth dropped.

"okay i am soooo sorry," she said.

"it's fine," annie laughed. "it was just really weird."

she realized she hadn't checked alicia's phone in a while. there was a missed call from tom. annie was able to call him back from the home screen.

"hi, is this dr. ellison?" he said.

"yes. you can call me annie, though."

"hi annie. okay, so alicia is in a coma."

"oh fuck."

"no, that's okay. like i said, this has happened before, she was in a coma for 6 months when she was 17."

"wow."

"so yeah, she is stable, they think she'll come out of it gradually... she's going to live."

"i'm so glad to ear that," annie said.

from the kitchen, cleaning cum off of herself with a paper towel, casey gave an excited thumbs up.

"this is going to sound weird but my parents want to make you dinner." he said.

"um?"

"they are just really grateful that you were there with alicia. if you weren't, who knows what might have happened."

"tom, just so you know, like... i met alicia at a bar like an hour before we fucked. it was a very casual hookup."

"i get it," he said. "they do too. alicia has never been the long term relationship type. they just want to meet you."

he gave her a date and an address. annie hung up. "they want to meet me."

"you're a hero," casey chirped from the kitchen.

"yeah, totally," robbie said. casey giggled and grabbed his cock.

[nagisa-666]

《Muzan! F! Reader x Yan! Izana》

《CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD》

《WARNINGS!: kind of yandere, mentions of cheating, reader is a cheater, curse words, threats, reader is manipulative, crossover KNY x TR》

"Ah, Kibutsuji-san! What a pleasure to see you again-" Kisaki began, trying to talk to (Name) in a light hearted manner as he sat down, smiling at the (e/c) eyed girl who just glared at him, ignoring the white haired male who walked in after the tanned male.

"Who ever said you can talk to me? Kneel down and stay silent before I give you permission to talk to me, peasant. Don't ever look into my eyes without my permission." (Name) interrupted, voice bland but eyes glaring at the male in front of her, making the long haired male behind her step forward, before she raised a hand to stop him.

Kibutsuji (Name), a cruel and vile woman whose poison was like honey, who dressed extravagantly, showing her wealth and status constantly. Just like now, she was wearing a fine black kimono, decorated with red lilies and wearing elegant heels that went with her kimono, matching her (h/v) hair and (e/c) eyes. Her make up was excellent, showing off her features well.

"Haha... Okay..." Kisaki chuckled in a sort of weirded out, dejected kind of way. Fuckin weirdo.

"Hey, Kisaki. Who is this?" Izana asked, watching them with a blank face as (Name) took a glance at the dark skinned male, face making a disgusted expression.

"This woman right here is Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires and surprisingly not surprising, she runs a gang too. The reason I'm meeting with her today is for deal, in fact." Kisaki bitch face said, giving a fake smile as (Name) scoffed, crossing her arms as she scowled, Michikasu, or more known as Kokushibo, stepped forward and broke out a bokken.

"I'm not 'just' Kibutsuji (Name), one of the youngest millionaires. I am the leader of the current most dangerous gang, with 6 total units and over 150 members in each unit. In fact, I find almost pathetic that a rival gang was created in na attempt to defeat my own. They've been failing to do so in all of the years they've existed. My dear cousin is so pathetic. He's been switching the captains every time they fail." (Name) explained nonchalantly, putting her hand out as she talked with a bored face, making the dark skinned male focus on her sharp nails, noticing how the tips were a faint blue color, then bringing it back to the arm holder on her chair, before the male behind her cleared his throat, making everyone focus on him instantly. (Name) just rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What is it now, Kokushibo? Are we running late for an appointment or what." (Name) said, crossing her legs as she brought one hand up to her face.

"(Name)-sama, Akaza says that he's done with his task now. We'd better get back before Douma irritates him into breaking his jaw again." Kokushibi said simply, making (Name) roll her eyes sharply before standing up, her heels clicking loudly against the stone flooring as she ignored the stuttering the tanned male was doing.

"It was a waste of my time to believe that I would personally need to be here. Kokushibo, finish up here. I trust that you won't fail me." (Name) threatened, glaring at the taller from the corner of her eyes as he bowed, nodding his head before taking opening the door for her to escort her out to her car while Kisaki and Izana watched from a window. Kokushibo watched the car drive away before glaring at the window, going inside and sitting in front of them with a glare.

"Quit contacting (Name)-sama. She's far above filth like you. Her pure blood will not be tainted by you. Don't think of contacting her again. Now, what did you want to meet for?" Kokushibo said, glaring at them with a monotone face before allowing them to speak.

"Aren't you confident for just a servant? I bet you aren't even her favorite. We wanted to meet with your master for an alliance against Toman. Recently, we've heard that they've teamed up with that gang her cousin created. We just wanted to know if you wanted to join in a alliance to defeat them for good." Kisaki said, false grin finally falling as Izana stared at him with his creepy ass wide eyes and blank face. Kokushibo was a master at staring contests though so Izana lost.

Fucking loser.

"... As much as I hate to admit it, (Name)-sama would love for her cousin's pathetic gang to die. Fine. Only this once will I allow this transgression to occur. (Name)-sama hates those who are useless. In fact, because of it, she enjoys the third captain. If you kill him, I might let (Name)-sama even meet with you more. But that's only if you get rid of Hakuji Akaza."

"Such a disrespectful being shouldn't be allowed to be in her gang."

《Manila Future, Izana and (Name) engaged to be.》

Izana and (Name) were such an envious couple. With both looks and power, many of the underground were jealous of how great they were together, as the Emperor and Empress of the underworld.

Of course, (Name) knows that she doesn't actually mean shit about her vows.

'I swear till death do us part'? 'I'll love only you'? What kind of cringy shit was that? How do you think she managed to get so many under her foot? Even the child she held in her custody knew better.

(Name) Kibutsuji was a stone cold bitch. Any and all who fell for her traps knew that under any if her facades, she didn't give a single fuck who they were or what was wrong with them.

She just wanted soldiers who would do anything for her. Out of love or respect or fear, it didn't matter. Only those that would give up their lives for her no matter what happened to them would be rewarded. Just like Akaza.

Akaza is definitely her favorite, even if she doesn't act like it. But when you have a favorite, you have high expectations. And when those high expectations aren't met, you have to have a punishment ready.

To better someone, you need fear.

Anyone worthless is not needed.

Once Izana is no longer useful, she'd move on and find someone even more useful.

He doesn't matter in the end. He's just another fool who fell under a trap.

He'd understand that soon enough.

"Who was that?! Why are you acting like we're not married?!" Another day, another fit. Izana is slowly getting more useless. So, to not waste time, (Name) began to court another man from a top rising company.

Yes, she was married. But she wasn't going to be for much longer. Izana was just losing his mind, and when he loses his mind, he loses his respect. When he loses his respect, she gains it. And with every fit he has, she gains more followers.

She was playing a long game, but it was almost over, with her as the lone winner.

Everything she did, she did to make herself a higher authority. That's why she raised from a simple gang leader to the empress of the underworld. How she raised her parents company from good to exemplary.

And Izana was near useless now.

In fact, even she was surprised that she was still with him. If she left him, he'd lose everything he had. Just the fact that she thought to leave him made almost all find him pathetic. For the one who's been with him since high school to stay with him despite the embarrassment of his temper tantrums was humbling enough, but for even her to leave him?

It was honestly pathetic.

#tokyo revengers x female reader #yandere izana #Nagisa_666 works #izana kurokawa #kokushibo #kisaki tetta #michikatsu tsugikuni #mentions of other characters #mentions of abuse #crossover

[pennylanefics]

Change - Jake Kiszka

a/n: i desperately wanted to write a fic with him being nervous about his new haircut, but the thing is i've been struggling bad with writing bc of many things, but mainly being so anxious and focused on my health and all. so i'm not entirely happy with it, but i tried :) also barely proofread, i finished it at 3 in the morning lmao

this idea is thanks to @maud-gone and a small moment is inspired by this post from @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine :)

*photo is not mine, credit goes to the owner. if anyone knows, please let me know!*

The sun filtered through the curtains of Jake’s bedroom, your eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings. They soon land on Jake, who was awake and out of bed, with his back turned towards you.

All you could see was his tan, bare back as he brushed his long hair in the mirror of the closet next to his bed. He was already dressed in his usual pair of light-washed jeans, seemingly getting ready to leave for the day.

“Jakey?” You call out. He turns around in an instant and smiles upon seeing your sleepy figure, still trying to wake up.

“Morning, honey,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He smelled of his shampoo and body wash, a sign that he has showered and has been up for a while.

“Where are you going?” He takes a seat on the bed next to you, taking a hold of your hand. His thumb rubs along the backside of it, soothing you within seconds. The comforter slides down your body upon Jake scrunching it up from when he sat down, and his eyes immediately attach to the sight, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I have some errands to run and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Nodding against your pillow, you gaze up at him, drinking in the sight. His usual silver medallion necklace rests perfectly around his neck and between his pecks, his wavy hair splayed out across his shoulders and sculpted back. He looked like an angel, especially with the sunlight hitting him so beautifully, highlighting his features that you loved so dearly, and all you wanted to do was lay in bed with him for hours and admire him.

“Okay. How long are you gonna be?” 

“I’m not sure. But I’ll be home in time for dinner, alright?” You nod again in response and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips, cupping your cheek to hold you there. The necklace swings down and falls against your own bare chest, the medallion right between your breasts, the feeling sending a shiver through your spine.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against his lips, tugging at the necklace to pull him in for another kiss after he parts. A chuckle escapes him and he gives in, deepening the kiss just for a moment.

“I should get going, I have an appointment I can’t be late for.” Thinking nothing of this, as you are still very tired, you let go of the jewelry and allow him to continue getting dressed.

Jake slips on his navy blue button-up, grabs his wallet and phone, and is out of the house in an instant as you scroll through your phone, still in bed, attempting to wake up before getting up for the day.

The entire day goes by, and Jake still hasn’t returned home. You busied yourself with doing some chores around the house, but you were desperate to know where Jake has been. When the time came around, you ordered a pizza for dinner, which you were planning on enjoying by yourself at this point, until Jake walks in. Walking out from the bedroom, you find him kicking his shoes off by the front door.

“Hey Jake, where have…” your voice tapers off as soon as he faces you. His shoulders tense up, a small frown is displayed on his lips, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to you.

His hair is the first thing you notice. And it’s different. 

It’s short, not something you were expecitng him to come home with, but still very attractive nonetheless. The length was just about shoulder length, maybe an inch or so shorter than resting on his shoulders, but it was still the same color, as far as you could tell.

“What do you think?” He shyly asks, gazing into your eyes. He tucks a piece of hair behind his left ear nervously, which accentuates his face so perfectly. Though immediately, you notice something deeper hiding behind his general exhaustion from being out all day. Something you’ve seen before.

Insecurity.

“I-I fucking love it,” you reply, a huge smile curling at your lips. You close the space between the two of you and grab onto the ends of the short, brown bob. Your fingers then thread through the soft locks from the root to the ends, and already, it feels a ton more healthier.

“You do?” His voice was still quiet, unsure of how to feel in this moment.

“Yeah! Why? Don’t you?”

A soft sigh slips from Jake and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, something he does when feeling anxious.

“It feels nice to not have so much to take care of, but…” he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. Your hands fall to his waist, knowing that it comforts him, and wait for him to get what he wanted to say out. “I’m not sure what the fans are going to think.”

There it is.

Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion and hurt. Jake has always been worried about what people think of his appearance, it’s something he never really grew out of. Sure, he was confident and feeds off of the fans screaming positive things at him during shows or telling him when they meet him, but he knows what social media is like.

“You shouldn’t care about what fans think, babe. You look so good and you’re happy with it, right?” He nods in response, not trusting his voice yet. “And that’s all that matters. Plus, I love it, too.”

You reach up and tuck the hair on his right side behind his ear, cradling his face in your hands. Leaning forward, you kiss him sweetly and his own hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. Your thumbs stroke along the apples of his cheeks after you part from the kiss, feeling the warmth of a blush underneath them and watching them turn pink.

“But…you saw the way people reacted to Josh’s haircut. What if they do the same with mine?” He was so unsure, and despite your words of praise, he seemed like he was still not entirely happy with his decision.

“Then they aren’t happy with it. Your hair feels so much healthier, it’s far more easier to manage, and, the best part, it frames your face so well. You look so fucking cute, Jakey.” Another blush rises to his cheeks, and he sheepishly looks down and away form your gaze.  “And I just know that so many fans are going to love it, it’ll outweigh the ones that don’t.”

When he raises his head, both tendrils of hair fall from behind his ear, giving you another chance to really see the length and how it looked around his face. Resting your hands on his cheeks, you take the sight of him in, how healthy his hair looked, the pain still evident in his eyes, and the pink blush remaining on his cheeks underneath your touch.

“I can’t get over it,” you gush, cooing as you play with the ends of the locks, twirling them around your fingers, the silky threads that you’ve always loved playing with feeling so light between your fingertips.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek, then his nose, moving to his other cheek. But you don’t stop there, you begin to kiss all over his face, his forehead, his eyelids even, before moving down to his jawline as well. His giggle rings out in the otherwise silent house, and your heart flutters at the sound you love so much.

“I’m so obsessed with you,” you add in the same tone of voice. “Everything about you. Please don’t let anyone else’s opinion get you down. And I know that’s hard to do, but I’ll be here for you through it all.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, love and adoration dripping in his words “Thank you.”

“I love you too, Jake. Always will.”

The pizza delivery man interrupted your sweet little moment with a ring of the doorbell, so after paying the guy and tipping him, you two take a seat on the couch and enjoy your dinner together.

As you two chat about your day, you could tell Jake was still really nervous and insecure about the change, and your thoughts were confirmed when he slipped up on telling you that he went over to Danny’s for a little.

“Yeah, well, after my appointment, I went to talk to Danny and…he kind of gave me some good advice to take and all that.”

“Advice about what?” You push, your hand falling to his shoulder, gently massing the tense muscles.

“You know…about how he changed his hair and all and how he dealt with the change himself. He told me basically the same thing you did, that if I’m happy, then everything is okay. And his haircut really brought him out of his shell.”

“I really hope you go through the same because you are still so fucking hot with short hair.” Jake can’t help the giggle that bubbles in his throat, and of course the sound makes you laugh with him, happy that he was showing improvement with his mood.

“Can you…or, would you mind taking a shower with me?” Jake asks after a few seconds of silence and him playing with your hand.

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t mind,” you joke, standing up and attempting to dart to the bathroom, feigning exaggerated eagerness. He laughs loudly and joins you, following you into the bathroom.

Your routine of showering goes as normal, however you decide to take care of Jake tonight. As he reaches for the shampoo, you stop him and pump the soap into your own hand.

“Let me,” you whisper. He nods and straightens his back under the running water. Lathering the shampoo between your hands, you raise them up to run the suds through the newly trimmed locks, scratching your nails against his scalp to work the shampoo in.

The sweet smell fills your nostrils and Jake’s eyes shut as he basks in the feeling of your touch, a small grin on his face. Taking care of Jake was one of your favorite things to do. Whenever he got back to the hotel from a rather rough show, or even after a long flight where all he wanted was to collapse in bed and sleep for hours. you were there to help him.

Though right now he didn’t exactly need help, however he appreciated the kindness and love that you give to him in moments where he’s feeling down about something or himself. Right now, you were showing him that you love his new hair by tenderly washing it, and that means the world to him.

You continue with everything, washing your own hair as he rinses the shampoo out of his, tending to him the same way with the conditioner, though only paying attention to the ends; you even wash his body for him, massaging his tense muscles through the soap to try and get him to relax even more.

He of course had to pause for moments just to kiss you, grabbing your face with his hands to hold you against him, throwing in some soft ‘I love you’s’ as well. Even after all the soap and conditioner in both of your hairs was rinsed and washed down the drain, you stood there under the falling water, curled in each other’s arms, not ready to get out just yet.

Eventually, though, the water runs too cold and you have to get out. Jake grabs two towels for you and one for himself in the process, but, the care doesn’t stop there. After he dries his hair with the towel you used for yours, you pick up his comb and sit him on the toilet.

Gently, you begin to brush through the knots, starting from the bottom and working your way up. Jake stares up at you, both of his legs on either side of yours, locking you between him. His hands come up to cradle your hips, softly stroking the cotton towel that covers your body.

He takes in the look of concentration on your face as you work through his hair. Trying to be as careful as you could be without hurting him, you were locked in, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and all he could do was smile like a fool in love.

Finishing up, you scrunch the locks up a little in your hands, just to add to the wavy pattern that was prominent in his hair already. He remains on the toilet, watching you do your own nighttime routine of brushing your hair, washing your face, and getting dressed and ready for bed.

Soon, you and Jake are curled up in the warmth of his bed, surrounded by the smell of him, a mixture of his strong-scented body wash and the usual cologne he wears daily. Laying side by side, facing each other, Jake sighs softly and reaches for your hand resting between the two of you.

“Thank you for tonight. It’s just that I haven’t really had this much of a change in a while, and it scares me,” he admits, his voice low and cautious.

“It’s okay to feel that way. Change is scary, especially if you’re in the public eye and constantly have people making comments about your appearance. Everything you’re feeling is completely valid, okay? And you don’t have to thank me. You’re my love, Jake. I’ll always be here for anything you need.” 

He scoots forward a bit to meet your lips, your hand falling to the side of his neck, your thumb running back and forth over his soft skin. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours, and you move your hand up just a bit to play with his now-dry hair. His eyes flutter shut and a soft and quiet hum vibrates in his throat.

“I really do love your new look. And I really hope you keep it this length for a while,” you tell him, repeating your actions from earlier and kissing all over his face. He giggles again and just sits there, taking in all the adoration and praise you were more than happy to give to him.

“If it leads to you kissing me like this, then I’ll become a vampire so it never grows again.”

“That was so cheesy,” you laugh, smacking his chest playfully. A smile spreads across Jake’s face as he tugs you into his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead. “And speaking of that, I’d then have to become a vampire to be with you for eternity.”

“If it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you, sign me up.”

—

taglist: @maud-gone @doodle417 @digitalcalamity @rocknrolls-child @fan-girl-97 @writingcold @thecoldwind @allieisacrybaby @jordierama @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @stardustchxrds @gretavanfran @gretavankleep37 @saremar1 @gvfungi @Mamalikes_gvf @jakekiszkasmoon @joshkiszkatoe

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka imagines #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #greta van fleet imagines #gvf imagines #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[jaketposts]

shears | jtk

a/n: i was very inspired by cob's haircut and had to put it down in words. this is the result. also this is my first fic! warnings: none! just a lot of fluff. mention of scissors maybe? word count: 3.7k

You weren’t exactly thrilled that your first job out of cosmetology school was at Great Clips. You hoped to score a job at a fancier salon as you had shelled out a pretty penny for a more prestigious beauty school, but it was, at the moment, your job.

You didn't even like men’s styles. You thought the endless slew of clipper cuts and fades were repetitive, and you longed to get your hands on a head full of long, luscious hair. Sadly, most women already had a stylist that they trusted and had a bond with, so you were stuck with every Joe Schmoe in Nashville who didn’t care to run a dab of pomade through his comb-over every once in a while. 

Sometimes your customers were even rude. Many pompous businessmen who never looked up from their phones had sat in your chair. You had cut the hair of just as many older men who made crude comments about your figure or told you to smile while you tried to fix up their rapidly thinning crew cuts. Neither of these groups tipped very well. 

Truthfully, you loathed Great Clips, but the job kept you afloat while you built a resumé. 

You found that you had much to complain about while idle at the front counter, waiting for a walk-in when the doorbell pulled you from your daydream of a real salon. 

The bright chime of the bell echoes through the empty lobby, alerting you to someone's presence. Your eyes rip away from the spot on the wall you had been absentmindedly staring at while your mind wandered, falling to the man stepping through the doorway.  

He was gorgeous, you thought. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat and a stylish pair of sunglasses. Between the two accessories, you weren't sure what he actually looked like, but you just knew he was pretty. He wore a pair of off-white linen pants paired with a black linen button-down that looked to have been cropped to his hips. The shirt was mildly wrinkled but barely buttoned, which gave you an ample view of his smooth, tan chest adorned with a couple of silver pendants. 

You were enamored with his jewelry and open shirt before you realized the most important part of his appearance.

His hair.

He had wavy chestnut hair that spilled over his shoulders and fell past the collar of his shirt. You hadn't had hair that long walk through the doors in months, maybe ever. 

You were pulled out of your silent admiration by the sight of him walking towards the counter, towards you. You quickly shut your mouth, as your jaw was beginning to hang open at his beauty, and flash him the brightest smile you could muster. 

"Hi, welcome to Great Clips! Do you have an appointment?" you chirp, silently thanking whatever power was above that your voice didn't crack. You bit your lip in anticipation of his answer. You were next up to take a walk-in, but there were stylists in the back who had appointments with regular customers. You hoped he was not one of them. 

Even his voice was gorgeous, "No, just looking for a walk-in if you have time," he replies. He had a perfectly deep, but kind rasp to his voice. You felt your cheeks redden at the sound. 

"Sure! Follow me, please." This time, you aren't so lucky, as your voice breaks and your face flushes deeply. You quickly turn and motion for him to follow you to the chairs, attempting to hide your undoubtedly scarlet face. You could have sworn he chuckled under his breath at your shyness. 

Once you arrive at your station, you gesture for him as you take your spot behind the chair. You start to introduce yourself, "My name is y/n and I'll be cutting your hair today." You pause, expecting him to remove his hat and sunglasses. 

Instead, he rasps, "Hi y/n, I'm Jake." He smiles a gentle, toothy grin at you that you can't help but return. He still does not move to take off his hat or glasses yet, so you pause again, moving to lightly graze your fingers along the brim of his hat. 

"Can I take these off?" you ask. 

Jake's eyebrows raise in realization, "Oh! Of course." He reaches up to lift his hat off his head and place it in his lap, which you had been avoiding looking at. Then, he removes his sunglasses, folding them and sliding them into the top of where his shirt was buttoned, no higher than the bottom of his sternum. He looks back up expectantly, finally making real eye contact with you for the first time since he arrived. Tragically, your face flushes again, but he seems to blush as well.

"There we go," you whisper. Then, in a louder voice, you say, "It's nice to meet you, Jake. What are we doing with your hair today?" You move to run your fingers through your hair to feel the texture and judge the care that it might need. 

"Well," he starts, "My little brother says the ends of my hair look ratty and that I need a haircut. So, here I am." He grins. As you comb your fingers through his hair, you understand what his brother meant. His hair is soft until you get two inches from the ends, where it feels rougher and dryer than the rest. He continues, "Take off whatever needs to come off."

Your mind automatically ponders the dirty implications of his directive, but you furrow your brow to push that thought away, "When did you last have your hair cut?"

Jake squints in thought, then shrugs, "Eight months? Maybe a year? I'm really not sure. I've been so busy with work lately, I just haven't had time to think about a haircut."

You hum and nod at his answer, "What do you do that has you so busy?"

His face splits into a wide smile and his eyes shimmer at your question, "My brothers and I are in a band. We've been on tour and finishing up our next album," he replies, still wildly grinning. You smile back and your heart flutters at the passion for music he exudes.  

"Very cool, anything I might have heard?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but with a tiny smirk that you almost miss, "Maybe," he starts, but he turns his focus back to his hair, "what's the damage?"

You pull the pieces of his hair that lay in front of his shoulders between your index and middle fingers and let the hair feed through until you reach where you think his locks need a chop. About two inches of hair needed to be cut off to keep it healthy. You reply, "About this much."

His eyes widen in shock at how much you indicate. He swallows, then asks, "Are you sure?" Jake's voice is almost timid, and your heart aches.

You nod solemnly, "Sadly, yeah. You have a good bit of split ends here and the only way to get rid of them is to cut them off." He nods back in understanding. 

"I get it. It just seems really short. My hair hasn't been that short in a while." 

You can tell Jake is a little nervous about the necessary length, so you lean over so that your head hovers right next to his, just above his shoulder. You look deeply into his eyes in the mirror and smile, "Yeah, but I promise you'll still look amazing," you reassure him. 

This time it's his turn to flush a deep crimson, which he couples with a shy smile, "Whatever you say."

"Perfect," you reply as you stand up. You pat his shoulder and he follows you to the shampoo bowl. You grab a towel and lay it over the divot where his head is to rest. He sits down and leans back, his hair falling into the bowl. Usually, your customers focus on a spot on the ceiling, but he looks directly into your eyes. His gaze is piercing but soft, his smooth chocolate eyes dulling the sharpness of his glare. The pesky flush of your cheeks rises again, so you quickly avert your gaze in search of the shampoo and conditioner. You could feel his eyes tracking your movements.

You turned the water on, waiting longer than usual to make sure that the water was warm enough. You wanted it to be perfect for him. You ran the shower head over his hair, soaking it in the warm water and turning the faucet off when it was saturated. After pumping shampoo into your hand and lathering it between your fingers, you started to work the solution through his hair. His eyes, once trained on you, flutter shut with a sigh at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. His cheeks were rosy and you swear you saw a content smile play across his lips. 

With his head stretched back, the smooth column of his neck was on display, leading your eyes down to his necklaces, which glinted in the overhead light. Your eyes moved to the smooth expanse of his chest, and you almost wished you could run your hands down the warm, tanned skin. At that moment, you realize you had been massaging the shampoo into his hair for too long, distracted by the man in your chair. You rush to grab the showerhead and turn it back on. You gently rinse the suds from his hair, holding your hand between the water and his forehead, protecting his face. Once his hair is clean, you grab a couple of pumps of conditioner and work it through his ends. As you run his wet hair through your fingers, you can tell that his hair really is gorgeous. It just needs some care. 

After rinsing the conditioner from his hair, you gently squeeze out the excess moisture. His eyes open at this, sensing that you're done washing his hair. His eyes find yours again and he gazes up at you. You try to cut the tension with a joke, "Good morning, sleeping beauty," you say softly while a wry smile creeps across your face. 

Jake flushes at your bold joke, "Oh hush," he replies. His words don't hold any malice. He continues, still making eye contact with you, "It felt nice." His face pulls into a shy smirk. 

You have him sit up, and when he does, you grab the corners of the towel by his face and fold his hair up into the towel on top of his head. You lead him back to your salon chair and he sits down. After you grab a cape from the hooks on the wall, you drape it over him. The movement of the cape wafts the sweet smell of the conditioner towards you, but you can smell something else, a scent that is uniquely Jake. 

After you snap the cape around his neck, you remove the towel from his head. You match his gaze in the mirror. He flashes a grin at you, again, and says, "Cut away, Doc." You nod in return. 

You turn to grab a comb and a pair of shears and get to work. As you work through his hair, you strike up a conversation. "What kind of music do you and your brothers play?"

"Rock 'n roll mostly. Maybe a little bit of blues. Whatever we want, really," he replies. You can't see his face from your position behind him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

"Ooh, rock 'n roll? Are you a rockstar, Jake?" you tease. You move to cut the hair on the side of his head. 

"Maybe a little bit," he chuckles. He tries to turn his head towards you to punctuate his reply. 

"Hey, keep your head straight." You stop his head with the back of your hand. He raises his eyebrows and flushes with embarrassment as he snaps back to face the mirror. 

"Sorry," he replies. He averts his gaze in the mirror. 

You smile reassuringly, "No worries," you say. He settles again, "What instrument do you play?"

This question truly makes him light up, "I play the guitar." He beams at you in the mirror and continues, "I started when I was pretty little, and it's taken me a lot of cool places." His grin shows off his shiny, white teeth. 

"Any Grammys yet?" you jest. You assumed he was a small artist waiting for his big break. 

He looks down at his lap and chuckles, "Just the one."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the mirror, "Really?"

He lets a small smile play across his face, "Yeah it was kind of a miracle, actually." You stand up as your mouth hangs open. Then, you begin to laugh, full and from your belly. He flushes again, "What's so funny?"

It takes a second for you to stop laughing and collect yourself to answer him, "You've won a Grammy and you're getting your hair cut at a Great Clips!" The thought, once said out loud, sends you back into a laughing fit. His own bright and genuine laughter joins yours. 

When the laughter dies down, he turns his head towards you and you let it slide this time. He looks up at you and says, with a smirk, "Yeah, but you're cutting my hair here, aren't you?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You blush furiously, but roll your eyes and turn his head back to the front with a hand on top of his head, "Oh, stop it," you mumble. His self-satisfied smirk remains as you finish cutting his hair.

Once pleased with your work, you set down the comb and shears. You reach for a bottle of light mousse and pump a small amount into your hand. Jake looks at the product in your hand, then up into your eyes, and asks, "What's that?"

You rub the mousse between your hands and start to rake it through his hair. "It's a mousse. It'll make your hair voluminous and give your waves some definition," you reply.

"Oh," he whispers and nods as you finish with the product. You grab the hairdryer and run it over his head for a few minutes, spinning the chair as you evenly dry his hair. 

Once you've finished, you run your fingers through his locks one last time, breaking the cast and giving his hair the tousled look he came in with. You suspect he likes that look. 

You finally spin Jake back around to see the final look in the mirror. The corners of his mouth and his eyebrows rise in unison. He turns his head from side to side, examining his new style. He brings his hands up to his scalp to tousle his hair from the roots. The wide, sparkling grin you were newly familiar with grows even stronger across his sharp features. 

"It looks amazing. You were right about the length," he says. The gratitude is evident in his voice, and you match his grin. 

You watch him admire his haircut in the mirror for just a little longer before he meets your gaze and sighs with contention. After standing there for just one more moment, you pat the back of the chair and say, "Alright, let's go get you checked out, Jake." He stands and follows you as you lead him back to the lobby. You notice that he puts his sunglasses back on his head, but continues to hold his hat in his hands. 

You resume your spot behind the counter and give him the spiel on the cost and other services provided at Great Clips. When it's time to pay, he slides a shiny card toward you. Upon picking it up, you find the card is heavy for such a small item. Your eyes widen at the weight of it in your hand and he chuckles. You look up at the sound, and he shrugs, "Rockstar money, I guess."

You laugh at his jokes one last time before you swipe the card and hand him the receipt with a pen to sign. He scribbles something on the receipt and hands it back to you. Your fingers brush as you take the paper from his hands and a shiver runs down your spine. You smile as he pats the counter, rings clacking against the hard surface. He puts his hands in his pockets and goes to leave, but before he opens the door, he turns around to say, "Thank you, y/n, it really does look great." A kind grin accompanies his expression of gratitude. 

You match his grin with a sugary sweet smile, "No problem, rockstar. Good luck with the new album." He waves and continues walking backward toward the door. It comes up quicker than he was expecting, and he turns around with surprise and embarrassment when he runs into the door. He waves goodbye before he's out the door and never to be seen again. You watch his profile walk down the street through the window, illuminated by the warm afternoon sun. 

You looked down at the receipt, hoping to find a sweet message or even a phone number, but you were met with a tip that far outweighed your service. Your heart flipped at the bittersweet gesture until another customer strolled through the door. 

❁❁❁

After closing out your last customer for the day and sending him out into the night, you began to sweep up. All the other stylists had gone home, so it was just you closing up the shop. Technically, you didn't close for another five minutes, but nobody was coming in, so you figured you would get a head start on cleaning up. 

You had just begun sweeping up the loose clippings left over from the day when the doorbell chimed again. Your heart sank at the sound. You hoped to get home early, but it seems your dreams were shattered by the high-pitched chime. You turned to see who had ruined your plans, but you froze mid-spin. The sight of Jake leaning on the counter shocked you. His elbows rested on the counter with his arms crossed while his fingers absentmindedly tapped at his bicep and his eyes darted around the lobby nervously. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head. 

"Back again, rockstar? Wanna go shorter?" you tease as you saunter back to the counter. You stand across from him, arms spread and hands grabbing the edge of the counter. You pop your hip out to the side and wait for his response with a smirk on your face.

He laughs at your question, "No, this is perfect actually." He moves to run his fingers through his hair.

"Well, what can I do for you? We close in," you check your watch, "two minutes." 

"I have a question for you, actually."

"Sure! Is it about the mousse? I can sell you a bottle, or I can let you take a picture of the label. If you don't like it, I can recommend you something else, too!" You start to ramble a little bit, flustered at the proximity. 

"No," he pauses, "well, actually I'd love to take a picture of the label, but that's not why I'm back."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. You don't want to get your hopes up, but you like the direction this conversation is going. You reply, "What is it?"

He takes in a shaky breath, "Well, uh, I really enjoyed my haircut."

You smile at his accidental display of nerves, "I'm glad you did. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No. I, um, well, I really enjoyed your company, and, uh," he pauses to search your eyes, biting his lip, "I wanted to know, well I wanted to ask if, maybe, um." He stutters and trails off.

You try to help him out, "Wanted to know what?"

He stands up and sucks in a deep breath, "Are you free on Friday night?"

His question, though it was the one you had hoped to hear, hits you like a freight train. Your eyes widen and a giddy smile slowly creeps across your face. 

Jake is seemingly impatient, pushing for an answer, "Well?"

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as you reply, "Yes, I am."

He doesn't celebrate yet, but asks, "Can I take you out to dinner, then?"

Your smile stretches even further across your face, "Yeah, I would love that."

The biggest smile you had seen from him that day erupts onto his face. You stand there grinning at each other for a second until he breaks out of the trance, "Great, it's a date," he exhales, "could I maybe get your number before I go?"

You nod, "Of course." He hands you his phone, already open to a new contact. You type in your number and your name, making sure to add a ":)" at the end. While you type, you can see him bounce on his toes with anticipation, and it makes you smile. You hand the phone back to him and he smiles down at the contact. You watch him for a moment before you lean across the counter and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, against your better judgment, "See you Friday, Jake."

He quickly looks up, having flushed scarlet yet again. He smiles and whispers, "Yeah, see you Friday." He turns to leave, clutching his phone to his chest and still gazing at you. He runs into the door again, distracted by you, but finally makes it outside. You watch as he exits and holds his phone up to his ear, smiling as he speaks to whoever is on the other line. 

❁❁❁

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you shut the door to your apartment. You drop your keys into the bowl by your door and scramble to fish your phone from your jacket. Only one notification is displayed on your lock screen. 

unknown number: hey gorgeous :)

You immediately save his number and giggle to yourself. You lean back against your door as you type out a response. 

you: hey rockstar :)

❁❁❁

if you'd like to be tagged in any future works let me know!

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf x reader #gvf fic #jake kiszka fluff

[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Seven

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language, I'll add more warnings as I post, so please check the warnings for updates on each chapter.

"The brakes need replacin'."

You liked the gruff sound of the mechanic's voice.

"Is that what the problem was?"

His eyes drifted to your cleavage, then back up to your face.

"No, mam. You needed an oil change. Badly."

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"Yeah, well, you keep forgettin' it's gonna happen again." He said very matter of factly.

"What's your name?" You asked.

His eyebrow raised.

"Daryl. Why?"

You put on your sweetest smile.

"Well, Daryl, I just moved here. I was wondering if maybe you would show me around?"

His eyes widened.

"Me?" He asked with disbelief.

"Yeah, you."

He sized you up for a moment. You thought he would say no. Then he wet his dry lips with his tongue and said, "I get off at six. If you wanna meet me here then."

You nodded.

You were there promptly at six.

Daryl took you for a ride on his motorcycle through town. The wind in your hair and the feeling of freedom had been thrilling. He took you to a diner afterwards and you had asked about his future plans.

Apart from making the shop a bit more successful he really didn't have any plans. You decided to fix that. You had kissed him that night and it had been the start of your whole lives changing. A new adventure.

You had gone from an aimless wanderer to a wife in a year. You had tacked on the title of Mother a year after that and your life had become about caring for your little ones and your home,. Your routine had since become a little predictable. Slowly you noticed there was a rift in your marriage that was steadily getting worse.

Then He had come up to you in that grocery store and told you, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The man was tall, tan, and lean, hazel eyed, with black hair and a handsome smile. He asked for your number and when you said you were married he said he was too. He told you he had never done this before. He told you he was drawn to you, that he couldn't help it.

He asked again for your number telling you if you wanted to, you could just be friends, but that he would love to get to know you. There had been a glimmer of danger in his eyes and the excitement it sparked in you had been enough to persuade you to give him your number.

Six months of flirting and meeting for coffee on the down low hadn't been enough. You craved an even bigger risk. It turned into kissing and making out in the back seat of your car, escalating into your needing a motel room. And there it was that thrill again, the feeling of excitement and freedom. When would you ever learn? You planned it all very carefully a doctor's appointment here, a dinner with your mom there. For him a poker game with the boys, and having to work late. You both came up with reasons to get away though you didn't see each other more than twice a month as a rule.

Now you were giving up that wonderous feeling so you could keep what was truly important, the happiness of your kids and the love of your husband.

"Has your physical intimacy improved since your last appointment?" Your counselor, Sherry asked.

Daryl nodded.

You shook your head.

His eyes widened.

"There have been a couple of instances where he didn't tense up or move away and we held hands once, but two of those times led to sexual touching and," You sighed. "that isn't progress."

He said your name.

"Do you know how hard it is for me to do that? It doesn't come naturally to me. I'm doing my best."

"Are you- ugh." Daryl's jaw ticked with frustration.

"I know that. I'm not saying that you aren't trying. I see you. I see the effort you put in. I'm trying to tell you that the point of this is non-sexual touching. You never had a problem with touching me that way in the first place."

"It's alright. Take a deep breath then tell her how you feel." Sherry guided him.

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out.

"We haven't had sex in years. Three years, in case you didn't realize. We haven't been touchin' at all until recently. So yeah, I think sexual touchin' is an improvement."

You caught your therapist raising her eyebrows at the revelation.

"You haven't slept together in three years?" She inquired.

"Yes, it's been a while." You admitted.

"And how are you handling your desires if not with each other?"

You went still for a second, unable to look at Daryl, just waiting for him to answer. You could feel him watching you. You sat there in the quiet long enough to make you feel nervous.

"We're all adults. Masterbation is a normal healthy thing."

"Yeah, well. I've been handling things myself." Daryl said.

You said nothing and worked on getting your body to relax a bit.

"Maybe, you should try what did you call it? "Sexual touching?" Maybe at night before you go to sleep, you could touch one another. It doesn't have to lead to sex or sexual acts. Something as simple as caressing your partner can strengthen your bond."

You felt a weight on your chest at the thought of doing what she suggested. It had come easily to you the morning you had almost let him have you, but that was different, you woke up aroused and weren't fully awake. Now to do so completely conscious of what you were doing was a different thing entirely.

"You should still try to implement little touches of affection through out the day, but this new homework can help too."

You agreed to try, even though it made you anxious.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #negan smith x reader #negan x reader #negan #daryl dixon #negan smith

[chicken-fifi]

Captive | Vincenzo Cassano (Vincenzo)

Pairing: Vincenzo Cassano / Park Joohyung x Fem!Reader

Requested by anon: Hi Fifi! I saw you write for Vincenzo, and I was wondering if you would consider writing something angsty centered around the reader and Vincenzo dating and she gets kidnapped by Babel's ppl and he has to rescue her? I hope this is an ok request. Thank you! Your hard work on this blog is always appreciated. ♡

Genre: angst

Warnings: swears, spoilers for episode 16 and beginning of 17, blood, death, murder, psychopath, guns, this whole show is a warning man, mafia, mob, MURDER, i also changed a few small things to accommodate the reader in this imagine

Word Count: 3,173 words

A/n: my first vincenzo request! i loved this kdrama so much man and really hope i was able to do it justice below the cut. and i really just wanna hug you for your kind words there anon. you just made my night (i'm writing this late as hell). as always, feedback is always appreciated! i may have also gone a bit overboard with the length of this one without noticing. it's always the kdrama imagines these days...

“How’s she doing?” Vincenzo asked over the phone. As much as he was trying to hide his concern for his biological mother, his tone gave away his increasing worry about her. 

“She’s fine at the moment,” you said looking at the woman sitting in her wheelchair getting some fresh air. “She seems much more cheery since we took those pictures the other day.”

You turned away just barely missing the way the photograph you were talking about fell from her hands and another person - a man - approached and picked it up before striking up a small conversation with her. “She knows it’s you, you know. Why don’t you just tell her that you haven’t stopped looking over her from afar? Call her ‘Mom?’ It’d mean the world to her, you know,” you turned back hearing her laugh and noticed the man sitting on the bench next to her chatting away. Vincenzo said something that you didn’t quite catch. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you could stay with her tonight,” he repeated, voice trailing off. You could practically envision his brows furrowing. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah…just distracted. I’ll call you back later,” you hurried not waiting for a response before marching over to Gyeongja and the unknown man. “Can I help you with something?”

The man turned to look at you, eyes widening slightly before they went back to their normal size as he rose to his feet, a smile forming on his face. “Jang Hanseok,” he said, extending his hand to you before retracting it when you didn’t take it. “The photograph fell and I simply picked it up and could help but notice how handsome her son was. You must be happy to have such a handsome boyfriend.”

“Oh she is,” Gyeongja giggled softly. “They make a good couple.”

His attention shifted from you back to her briefly before turning back to you, a strange look in his eye. It was then that you fully took him in. His skin was slightly tanned, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled, hair perfectly styled to compliment his casual outfit, a monotone look consisting of a blazer, t-shirt, and slacks, finished with a pair of canvas sneakers, all in off-white. There was an uneasy air about him that made you nervous just being in his presence. Shivers went down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You didn’t have a spidey sense but if you did, it would most definitely be going off like crazy right now.

The look in Hanseok’s eyes changed drastically as you continued staring at him, almost as if sensing your discomfort.  You stepped closer to Gyeongja gripping the handles of the wheelchair tightly, your knuckles turning white. He smiled again, raising his brows momentarily before clearly his throat.

“Well, ladies, I have a very important appointment to get to so I’ll see you both around. I hope you get better soon,” he turned to you and stared for a moment before leaving, not looking back. 

You watched him carefully before hearing a sigh and looking at the older woman as her fingers grazed over the photograph as she gazed in the direction he'd walked in.

“The poor thing. He doesn’t have a single picture with his parents. And his father never cared for him…”

Under most circumstances you would feel some form of sympathy for any one person after a comment like that, but for some reason it only sets alarms off in your head.

“It’s getting a bit cold, we should go back inside so you don’t get sick,” you said, beginning to push the wheelchair.

Your phone buzzed as you entered the hospital. Once inside an elevator you pulled it out seeing a message from Vincenzo.

I’m going to tell her tonight. I’m not missing this chance. I’ll be there later.

You smiled, sending a quick reply before shoving your phone back in your pocket as the elevator stopped and the doors opened and you headed to her room, getting her situated back in the bed and chatted with her for a while before she drifted off, you following soon after.

~~~

Mumbling from outside the door woke you from your light slumber. Carefully rising from your place in the chair you went to the door jumping back as it was opened and a man dressed in scrub entered, the guard posted outside the room being tossed inside like he weighed nothing, blood pooling on the floor underneath his head. You turned to rush to the bed to press the call button, an arm wrapping around your neck preventing you from doing so. The grip tightened as you scratched and pulled at the man’s arms, mouth opening and closing as you tried to make a sound, only for nothing to come out.

“Just pass out you bitch,” he uttered as he tightened his hold on your. You began getting light headed and fought even hard against his grip to try and break free to no avail. You began going limp in his arms as a sharp stinging sensation spread in your neck. He’d injected you with a sedative that only quickened the effects of the lack of oxygen. You finally passed out. 

Quietly, he sat you next to the door, slumped against the wall and made his way over the bed, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he stared at the old, sick, defenseless woman. She turned around slowly as she awoke, the photograph clutched to her chest.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she looked behind him seeing the bloodied floor and the seemingly dead man. Her eyes shifted to your body slumped over, not moving either but no blood.

The man rushed at her wrapping his gloved hands around her neck beginning to choke her. Her own shot up attempting to push them away with the little strength she could muster as the beeping of the heart monitor sped up. The machine flatlined as she lost consciousness after a number of minutes, arms falling away from him. Letting go, he stepped back, walking over to your body and picking you up, taking you out of the room and laying you down on the gurney he’d been using to get around without suspicion. Placing you on it, he covered you with a sheet - not noticing the shoe that had fallen off in the room. Closing the door, he began pushing the gurney away from the room nurses only giving him a spare glace.

Taking an elevator to the first floor, he pushed it out walking right past Vincenzo who didn’t spare him a second glance as he got in the elevator, a brown paper bag in hand, ready to call Gyeongja ‘Mom’ for the first time in a long, long time. To see your face as you smiled at him when he did so. Ready to be on the receiving end of a strong embrace from the two of you - the two people who truly made him feel like he had a chance at being a normal civilian.

Unbeknownst to him at that moment, none of those things would happen. Instead he’d be met with his good friend Death once more, ruining all of those plans. Police rushed past him as he neared his mother’s room. A crowd was formed outside looking in. His eyes drifted to the linoleum floor seeing the blood splatters outside. His heart rate sped up as he kept walking, pushing away a doctor to look inside, fear growing in his chest. He stood in the doorway seeing his mother’s - his mom’s - covered body laying lifeless, arm handing over the edge of the bed. You were nowhere to be seen, a stray shoe laying discarded on the floor.

The paper bag crashed to the floor just as his entire world began crashing down around him. Tears welled in his eyes as he neared the bed falling to his knees, spotting the crumpled photograph directly underneath her hand on the floor. The tears spilled from Vincenzo’s eyes as he held her wrist softly, everything hitting him and being processed through his mind. In that moment he swore he would find whoever was responsible for her death. He would find you and fight to keep you safe. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - allow you to suffer the same fate because of him.

~~~

Hanseok tore the pictures in half as he smirked after having met Myunghee’s gaze as she hung up the phone. He looked over at you sitting on the floor, your hands bound and mouth gagged, with an equally sinister grin as he tossed the pictures in your direction. They were images of Gyeongja and you in her hospital room. Neither of you were aware you were being watched. Hanseok rose to his feet, sneering in your face as he did so, before grabbing Myunghee by the hand and beginning to waltz around the room with her as they both let out manic laughs.

Tears welled in and spilled from your eyes as you realized what must’ve happened. Gyeongja must be dead. They’d killed her. They’d order for her to be murdered. And they let you live as live bait for the one person they were truly after. 

Vincenzo.

Hanseok stopped dancing, laughter still falling from his lips as he looked over at you making his way to you. With brute force, he forced you to your feet, holding you up with one hand, fingers pressing painfully against your jaw and cheeks.

“You have got a temper,” he scolded. “I don’t like being ignored. But seeing as though you clearly mean something to that consigliere, I may just be able to get more than enough use out of you before throwing you away.”

Fear coursed through your veins as you looked at the eerily cheerful man. No remorse or even regret was evident, which scared you even more. This man wasn’t normal, that much was evident. And right now you really wished he was. That he would be capable of having some guilt. But you knew he wouldn’t.

“Call Hanseo and Seunghyuk,” he ordered. “We’re celebrating a victory tonight.”

~~~

“All right,” Hanseok sighed, holding a glass of liquor in his hand. “Tonight, we’re going to drink ourselves stupid.”

“Sir,” Hanseo began glazing over at you sitting on the floor beside him. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“Because I just killed Vincenzo’s mom. And I happen to have his other most prized possession at my beck and call,” he spared you glance, hand pulling your hair roughly knocking you over. Hanseo and Seunghyuk were clearly shocked by his words. “Can you imagine? Finally reunited after 30 years, then BAM!”

“What?”

“I mean, poor guy. It must be killing him. Mother dead. Girlfriend missing,” he laughed.

Hanseo looked at you in shock, heart pounding his chest. He could allow anything to happen to you lest his own plan be ruined. Seunghyuk looked at you momentarily before looking at Myunghee, “Were you aware of this?”

“What’s wrong?” Hanseok asked. “You disappointed in me?”

“Oh, what? No, sir,” Seunghyuk stuttered, laughing hesitantly as he looked at you struggling to sit back up. “I’m worried about the consequences. That’s all. I mean, the poor girl. Can’t you treat her a bit more, humanely?”

“He’s right,” Hanseo agreed. “Why would you go and poke the bear, sir? And to treat her like this?”

Hanseok bit the inside of his cheek, staring at the two men, before looking down at you and scoffing.

“Of course you two are in agreement…since you’re such good buddies,” Myunghee commented.

“Excuse me?” Seunghyuk questioned meekly. “Just what are you saying? Hey, Ms. Choi-”

Hanseo stood up, “How dare you speak to me like that?”

“Please, I’m just stating a very simple fact.”

Hanseo huffed looking at Hanseok who couldn’t look any more disinterested in the conversation watching you struggle as he played with his glass, “Come on, sir! She’s exaggerating. He saw I was struggling with some business stuff, and he was helping me out.”

Hanseok’s gaze flitted to him almost as if daring him to keep lying to him.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t explain all your secret meetings,” Myunghee added leaning forward, her foot jutting out and kicking you. “Not to mention the meetings you’ve had with this one.”

Seunghyuk and Hanseo began arguing with Myunghee - who kept her cool - attempting to climb out of the hole they’d unknowingly put themselves in. Whilst Hanseok continued playing with the glass as he foot began tapping against your head rather harshly. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted Vincenzo to come and get you out of this situation or pray he kept his mind straight and focused on taking Babel down. But knowing him as well as you did, you already knew he’d rather get shot time and time again before allowing any of these people to get away with his mother’s murder and your kidnapping.

The three continued arguing as Hanseok forced you up and gripped your face tightly, not looking at you as he watched them go back and forth.

“You’ll all end up just like this too,” he whispered, a smirk on his face. “Just watch.”

You jumped back as a bloodied man came running through an entrance stopping the begging from Seungyuk to Hanseok to believe him as Myunghee screamed from shock. For the first time in a while Hanseok looked slightly shocked as he spotted the man, the same man who had been in the hospital room. The man you could only assume murdered Gyeongja.

He was muttering something incomprehensible to your ears before a gunshot echoed through the air, a bullet being fired into his torso. Followed by another through the back of his head. Your heartbeat sped up as you shuffled backwards attempting to distance yourself, Hanseok holding you in place. Everyone was shaking and whimpering in fear as the man’s body fell revealing Vincenzo standing there gun aimed and ready to fire another shot. 

From where you were you could see the blood on his hands and face, his bruised and bloodied knuckles and cold expression reminding you just exactly who it was you were with. He never hid it from you but you’d never seen him like this - this cold. He’d never allowed you to see this side of him. Not even when you left Italy after Paulo attempted to have you both killed in his apartment. 

There wasn’t a single emotion in his eyes as he stared blankly at Hanseok, gun aimed at him. He didn’t glance at you as he walked forward calmly, eyes trained on the man holding you firmly beside him. Fear settled in your stomach as you stared at the barrel that was pointed in your direction by sheer chance. He moved his arm and pointed the gun at Myunghee who cowardly fell down then to Seunghyk and Hanseo who hid behind the couch, before going back to Hanseok who continued to stare him down. His eyes flitted to yours for a split second twitching his head slightly, before going back to Hanseok’s. He began firing the gun in different directions forcing everyone to take some sort of cover - even you. Glass and porcelain shattered upon contact from the bullets. With Hanseok covering his head, you took your chance to move away from him as best as you could, struggling as you did so.

With you out of the way, Vincenzo aimed the gun once more at Hanseok as he made his way closer, giving you a chance to crawl behind him. He lowered the gun helping you stand and giving you a brief once over before turning back to the man he was there to give a message to.

“Murdering my mother…kidnapping my woman…those were unforgivable and absolutely foolish actions,” he said monotonously. “I knew that you killed countless people and even tried to kill me. Do you know why I haven’t killed you?” he paused looking at the gun. “It's a hassle.” 

Hanseok looked up and Vincezo took a few steps forward, your feet staying glued to the floor where you had been standing behind him. 

“I had a job to do. So putting a bullet in you, wasn’t worth wasting my time over. I’m not sure your measly sidekicks would inconvenience me much.”

He took a seat on the couch.

“But now…you all have to die.”

There was an exclamation of ‘don’t kill me’ and whimpers as he paused, staring directly in front of him before he continued speaking.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be tonight. I live by this principle: ‘What a blessing it is to have a painless death.’ I’m going to give you two things you’ve earned. First, the humiliation of a lifetime, and second…a slow and agonizing end to your life,” Vincenzo turned his head to Hanseok. “I swear.”

He looked away, “You can take care of that garbage. And don’t even try pinning his death on me or it will be all over the news…who hired my mother’s killer.”

Vincenzo rose back to his feet, beginning to walk back in your direction before stopping as he made a noise as if he’d remembered something, going back to Hanseok who crawled backwards as Vincenzo lifted the gun and took aim, cocking the gun, “Here’s a preview for all of you.”

He moved the gun a few centimeters before firing it, taking off a chunk of Hanseok’s ear, his scream filling the air. Vincenzo turned back around walking briskly in your direction and grabbing your arm, pulling you with him as he left as though he were leaving a very rough legal meeting.

~~~

Vincenzo was bent over his mother’s body crying as you stood beside him, unsure of what to say or do. The man who had always been so strong and fearless, void of much emotion was breaking down before your very eyes.

“Ma,” he cried over and over again as he sobbed. “Ma.”

~~~ “You should get some rest,” you offered as you stood beside him near the memorial front of the funeral home. “You’ve had a rough time.”

He looked over at you, the bells chiming and drum beating at the monks chanted something consistently, but didn’t say a word before looking away. Everyone from the plaza was there with him offering some semblance of support but clearly mourning and feeling the pain Vincenzo was feeling himself. 

~~~

Vincenzo sobbed into the scarf his mother had asked to be given to him. The words she’d written in her letter pieced his hardened heart over and over again as he read them. He sobbed as he leaned forward on the small table. You walked over from the kitchen and sat beside him wrapping your arms around him tightly, allowing him to cry into you.

“We’ll make them pay,” you whispered tears welling in your own eyes as he arms pulled you tightly against him. “We’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”

#kdrama imagines #kdrama scenarios #vincenzo #vincenzo masterlist #vincenzo cassano #park joohyung #vincenzo cassano imagines #vincenzo cassano scenarios #park joohyung imagines #park joohyun sceanrios