#yes his fucking mustache looks like

[that1overthere]

My college art professor is a trekkie (and a big ds9 fan) and I can't go on Tumblr during his class and look at fanart of Garak with big ol naturals without him spawning behind me and asking questions

My greatest fear illustrated

#yes his fucking mustache looks like #omfg please dont look at my screen its filled will people drawing cardassian cloacas and doctor twinks #star trek #college life #ds9 #gashir #garak/bashir

[ckygetsjobs]

hear people say they prefer clean shaven dico like his haggard era wasn’t the hottest he’s ever been oh am I a sucker for his mustache and beard

#He’s hot as fucking hell #Like I wanna kiss him 24/7 anyways but that look makes me rabid #UGH #Also his look in cky or at least some of it was his mustache and beard #Dico give me a chance #Yes I’m thinking about that pic from yesterday again #jackass #viva la bam #cky #brandon dicamillo #dico

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe

fem reader

Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.

You can't believe what’s happening – can’t believe his words.

Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.

You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you – trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if you’d been trying to lift a mountain.

He’s too big and too heavy – too strong.

He doesn’t even bother restraining your fists – not even when you start banging them against him. It’s as if he doesn’t even recognize the assault – busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.

“Stop it!” You hic through tears – sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs – flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.

He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin – and you fall still in wait. 

“You' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for you…” His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt – whispering ruggedly, “Or I might just have to put you over my knee.”

You’re frozen beneath him – eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare – feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetpea? Y’gonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?”

You stay still, and he takes it as your answer – smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. 

“That’s Daddy’s good girl~”

Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold – all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.

“You can cry out all you like, pretty girl~” He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands – lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest – tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. “But the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is – yes please, daddy – more please, daddy – and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?”

You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds – dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.

“Walkin’ ‘round my house dressed up like a little slut – teasin’ me all day long.” He gruffs. “Tch – this pretty cunt’s gonna get what you’ve been beggin’ for, and you’re gonna take it with a smile – understand that, little lady?”

Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And he’s messy with it – spitting, then slurping it up again – splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it – tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare – hungry like a starved animal – eagerly set on your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth – trying to stifle all moans.

But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air – soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat – thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.

“Oh~ look at yah~ my little slut~” He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face – mustache glistening with drool and arousal. “Must feel good to make you tremble like that – does my little girl wanna cum?”

You whine, trying to shake your head in denial – but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not – squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.

“Better ask for Daddy’s permission, or I won't be happy.” He adds, giving your thighs a pinch – hard enough to make you yelp – sure to leave bruises.

“Ah – no.”

You don’t want it – you curl your head to the side with a grimace.

You feel gross – reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut – recognizing the blossoming, knowing you’d soon bloom.

“Mgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need – can I please cum?!”

“Call me Daddy.” He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.

“Please, Daddy – please, can I cum!”

Another chuckle makes you shake – almost impatiently – before he purrs, “Sure, baby – go ahead – make a mess~” 

He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.

You throw your head back and your chest up – whole body quaking – trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb – leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.

You pant with softer moans when it dissipates – still feeling twitchy.

Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face – then regret it.

The shame washes away all pleasure – making your sweat go cold.

But if he sees it, he doesn’t care. “That was beautiful, baby girl~” He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.

You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more – tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.

He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit – then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.

“C’mere – on your knees.” His fist wraps your hair – tugging your head back. “Open wide and tongue out fo’me. It's my turn.”

Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.

He groans at the pretty sight – looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks – plush lips wet and welcoming – pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.

Sighing with a leer, “Such a pretty little thing~” His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.

Thicker tears pool in your eyes – a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping – knowing what was coming.

“This is what you wanted, right – why you've been acting like such a brat?” He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer – warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. “You wanna be Daddy’s big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?”

You don’t close your mouth – the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.

“Come on then, little slut~” He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. “Show me how much you want it – and don’t look away.” The smile on his face made your guts fold. “I wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.”

He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle – watching your eyes tremble up at him – struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.

Rasping out, “Such a needy little whore~” while his other hand dragged the band down.

Your mouth sealed closed on instinct – eyes too – shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face – you tried to turn your head away – but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.

“Bad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.” He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand – hard enough to make you wince.

You peeled your eyes open again – with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.

“Playing games like a snotty brat.” He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips – smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. “Look at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.”

He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching – tasting the bitter salt.

“Mmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~” He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss – only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.

He licked his lips and threw his head back.

“I knew you just needed a firm grip – knew you’d make the most perfect little slut fo’me~”

You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length – weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.

He held your jaw in guidance – keeping you steady to receive him.

Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth – looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didn’t bother him, though – the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.

It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner – creating such a cute mess all over you – looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.

You obeyed as best you could – not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.

He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow – drink his seed like a good whore should.

But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead – feed your womb his hot load – wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.

He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air – panting – nearly barreling over if it hadn’t been for the grip he still had around your hair. 

Pulling you up by it – his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his – kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.

“Mh- c’mere,” He groaned into your mouth – plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. “Up on my Daddy’s lap, baby.”

He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.

You can’t help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest – hands placed on his muscles – pushing yourself up from slacking against him.

You’re still breathless, left gasping – too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.

Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.

He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy “Is my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddy’s cock?” with a lazy grin carved on his face.

And before you can deny it, he’s already confirming the statement.

“You must be – your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.” He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit – rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. “This poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

He lifts your ass up so that you’re hovering over the tip – using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.

Purring, “Don’t worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~ fill you up with my hot cum~”

You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside – but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.

“There we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~” He coos, even though you’re sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest – gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. “Oh, fuuuck – so wet and snug on me~” He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. “Take all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~”

His head hangs back – Adam’s apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince – desperately wanting to lift off. 

But he keeps you seated – tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size – taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.

He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance – lifting his head to look at where he’s got himself sheathed to the hilt – his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace – using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you – keeping himself lodged just as deep – cozily kneading your cervix.

“That’s a good pussy right there – wet and tight and all mine.” He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. “Isn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesn’t it?”

He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.

“Every inch of this slut’s body belongs to Daddy, isn’t that right, little one?” He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.

“Ye-yes…” You whimper. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been stretched like that – it’s been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit – happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.

This is touching on more nerves – lighting other fires – different wells – tapping all sources – you’re leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in – all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.

“You wanna cum again – don’t you, my little slut?” He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.

He groans as he picks up the pace – dragging a moan out from your chest.

You want to deny it again like before – but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.

“Remember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or you’ll be punished.” He warns.

You spot a grin forming on his lips – sharp like a knife – before uttering the next words.

“Better say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~”

You scowl, trying to sneer, “Fuh-fuck you…” but your voice weakens to a whine.

Still, it’s unacceptable.

“That’s not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.” A harder slap cracks across your ass – this time, making you yelp.

Your hair is pulled before you recover – and you’re thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat he’d just been sitting.

He stands above you – using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.

“If your pussy won’t follow the rules…” He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. “Then this ass is next in line.”

You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. “What?” Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.

“It seems you don’t understand who’s in charge here…” He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. “But I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.”

“No – please no-” You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength – but the digit enters you anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s too late to beg now – you gotta take your punishment,” He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. “But to be honest with you… I was hoping you’d bite back like that.” He gruffs eerily at your ear. “I dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.” 

His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in. 

“Make you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me – get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.”

He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening – letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.

He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you – burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until he’s kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.

“There you go, my little anal slut~ That’s Daddy’s brat getting taught her place!” He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. “Getting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~”

The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy – even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention – milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.

“Aah- Daddy…” You moan through a sob. “Please…” Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. “Daddy, please – please let me cum…”

His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.

“Y’know, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?”

You can’t help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, “Please…” 

“Oh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.” He patronizes. “Okay, my sweet little slut~ I’ll let you cum – but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~”

You’re too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, “Ah – Daddy, please – mh-please can I cum on your big- ah – fat cock, please, Daddy please~”

He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.

“Good whore~ Remember to say thank you.” He mocks.

“Th-thank you – thank you, Daddy~” You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth – fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.

He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.

“Such a good slut~” He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. “Come’ere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~”

He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.

“Here it comes!”

White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste – bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.

He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.

“Aw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddy’s little cum covered whore on her first day of training~”

He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.

Grinning as he sing-songs, “Say, all my holes belong to Daddy~”

Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. “All my holes belong to Daddy~”

BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa

JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji, Higuruma

HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Ukai

AOT – Erwin, Zeke

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere demon slayer #yandere aot #yandere bllk #yandere blue lock #yandere attack on titan #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid.

2.7k, dark!Javi P x f!reader | SERIES MASTER

There's now a HOT GIF by @iamasaddie and HOT ART by @bonezone44. PT. 2. | THE RAID masterlist

Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t see before. Peña follows your eyes, looks down at himself, then sighs.  "Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown. He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his. 

WARNINGS: I8+, canon-typical violence, drug abuse, dubcon blow job (power dynamic / transactional / drugs), jacking off, fingering, cumplay, manhandling, handcuffs, gunplay, degradation, kidnapping

A/N: Yes, it's raider Javi. . . inspired by the original raider Joel fic (not the whole series and it will not progress the same way). Tysm 🖤

-------

You're lying on the sofa in your boyfriend Jack's slum house while he and a buddy count stacks of cash on the kitchen table and bitch about their street dealers. It’s a typical night. One friend is still playing grand theft auto on the floor. Every surface is littered with bottles, takeout boxes, crumpled up foil, and baggies.  You're laid out on the sagging sofa, scrolling your phone, about to drift off.  

There's a loud rap at the door. "DEA." Your heart jumps to your throat and you jolt upright. 

"FUCK," Jack yells and grabs his gun off the table.  "Go to the bedroom, you'll be fine," he tells you as he heads to the kitchen and out the back.  You sit there in disbelief that he's leaving you. The DEA doesn't knock again before busting down the door.  "DROP YOUR WEAPONS."  

Several agents swarm the house, wearing bullet-proof vests, crouching as they prowl around, pointing their guns. 

Two men approach you while a few more agents mill around the house. 

"Don't let anyone leave," says a mustached man on his way through the house. 

"Got it, Peña," confirms one of the men standing in front of you. Peña nods, glances at you, then sees Jack running away and rushes out after him.  

Both of the men in front of you are big. One taller, one more muscular. They look at you like you're a piece of meat. They guard you for a few minutes, keeping their guns trained on you.  They talk about you like you're not there. 

"Pretty girl,” the tall one says. 

The other man takes a step back, craning to see out the window before answering, "we got time, Ed." Ed, the taller one, puts his gun in his vest and unbuckles his belt. Meanwhile, you bolt off the sofa and try to dodge the other man on your way to the door. A third agent catches you and shoves you back to the original two, asking "Lose something'?" He sticks around.

Ed, with his pants still unbuckled, slaps you across the face with the back of his hand. It stings, but you laugh at him as if it doesn’t hurt. 

With that, the newest man steps forward and raises his gun to your head.  You flinch and your courage drains away. "Clothes off, he demands." You look to the door for help, but no one's coming. Yet another agent is making his way over. Your'e shaking as you strip down to your underwear with four men now facing you. 

Ed lewdly grabs his crotch. "Woulda been a whole lot happier with this." Then he brings his gun to your face and prods your cheek. "But let's see what this pretty mouth can do." 

. . .

A few minutes later, you’re relieved to hear voices and footsteps outside. Peña skids through the door, panting. He removes a pair of aviators as he takes in the scene. Under his green bullet proof vest, his tan shirt is darkened with sweat. His brow furrows at you in your underwear with the barrel of a gun in your mouth. 

"Dejenla, pendejos," (leave her alone, assholes) Your heart flutters with appreciation as they slowly back away. 

"She tried to run," one says. Peña points his gun at them, arms straining his sleeves.  The men back away obediently. "Outside. All of you," he tells them calmly but sternly. They disperse, slowly and sheepishly. "NOW," he booms. They leave the door cracked. “Cerrado” (Closed), Peña snaps, and they shut the door. 

When the door closes, it’s just you and Peña. You reach for your shirt on the sofa to put it back on, but he points his gun at you. "No. Don't fucking move." He’s still catching his breath.  He walks backwards, keeping his gun fixed on you as he makes his way to the front door. He reaches behind himself and locks the deadbolt, then holds the gun with both hands again. 

"You wanna go to jail?" He asks and you shake your head no. He approaches you in no hurry, still aiming the gun at you."Cause that's what's s'posed to happen."

You look into his big, brown eyes, trying to connect with something. 

"Here’s what happens," he starts, his breath still somewhat labored. "I take what’s mine and the DEA’s. . .” 

You nod. 

“and when I let them back in, they take what they want.”  He gestures to the drugs and money on the table, then wipes his brow. "So. . ." He takes a moment to breathe, then raises his eyebrows. "you want them to take what they want," he gestures his gun down your body. "Or want me to take you in?"  He wets his lips and his eyes fall to your bra for a moment. 

"Neither,” you plead. 

He sighs and finally lowers his gun. He uses his left sleeve to wipe his brow but the sleeve is almost too short. His hairline is matted with perspiration.  He bends forward and braces his hands on his thighs to look at you, right hand holding the gun against his jeans. 

"Here's what we're gonna do. . ."  His face is tense, but his voice is low and soothing. "We're gonna make a deal, aren't we?"  He nods. He wets his lips and looks you over. You nod back, just barely.  Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t notice before.

Peña follows your eyes, looks down at his pants, then sighs. 

"Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown. 

He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his. 

"Be a good girl for me," he says. "And we'll see what I can do." 

You nod. 

“You can call me Javi,” he offers, and you tell him your name. Your wallet is right there anyway. 

"Can I put this away?" He asks, holding up his gun. You nod.  "Nowhere to run," he warns you as he slips the gun into his vest. He adjusts himself then braces both hands on his thighs again and hardens his face. "Try something, and I'll let them back in for an hour, then cuff you myself. ¿Comprende?" 

You nod again. 

"Dime que comprendes" (tell me you understand).

"Yes," you confirm. "Entiendo." (I understand).

"Que bueno, pobrecita" (Good). He lets his eyes fall down your body hungrily. "How should we make this deal official?" 

You reach for his pants. He puts his hands out of the way and rests them loosely on his hips. His pelvis pushes forward as you palm the warm, ample bulge in his tight jeans. The front of his shirt has come slightly untucked from his foot pursuit, exposing a sliver of tummy that expands with his breathing as his cock hardens under your palm.  You catch a waft of his sweat and it sends a pang between your legs. You give him a slow, sensual rub with pressure. 

“Mm, good girl.” 

His massive hand comes to your face.  He grips your jaw and makes you look at him. You pause your hand then continue rubbing him and you feel yourself getting wetter. Then he squeezes your mouth open and looks at your teeth. His face is inches from yours and he reeks of tobacco.  "Not bad. . . at least you stay away from the pipe,” he raises an eyebrow. He looks at the side table of the sofa, littered with empty prescription bottles. "How long have you been using?" 

You don't answer. You slowly rub him and let your mind escape to a world where this is just a nice dick hardening warmly under your palm. 

"When's the last time you were clean more than a week?" 

Unsure what he wants to hear, you say, "Maybe a year."

"And how long have you been with that jackass?"

"I'm not."  You're not.  Not anymore. Not after this. 

"Mm-hm," Peña nods judgmentally and you feel a wave of shame when you see things through his eyes - a trap house and a loser boyfriend. "How does he fuck you?" 

You don't answer.

"Does he make you cum?"   His hips push forward and the outline of his tip presses against your palm.

“What do you want,” you snap defensively and his dick twitches under your hand. 

“You need to figure that out,” he says flatly. You meet his eyes and see desire. In different circumstances–like if he wasn't such an asshole–you'd hop on this man's dick in a flash, so you try to pretend he’s just a guy.

You reach for his belt buckle. His lips pout and his eyebrows go up with a tilt of his head. “Not a bad idea.” You unbuckle his belt, then unbutton and unzip his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear. His dark hair is trimmed close, almost shaven. His cock is thick, tan, and gorgeous. You work to free him from his restrictive pants, and it’s quite a package you’re looking at. 

His dick bobs heavily right in front of you, almost grazing your nose.  You take it in your hand, thumb resting on its crown.  You gently squeeze and admire it and it’s not long until he’s fully hard. Then you glance up at him and he’s looking at your mouth. You hover your lips near the tip and glance up at him again. He gives a go-ahead nod.  You suck the tip into your mouth.  Your tongue flattens under his shaft, then curls around the smooth, veiny skin. Holding his dick in your mouth, you tug his pants down lower and take out his balls before returning a hand to his cock. His balls are on the bigger side of average, symmetrical and only a little fuzzy. 

“Ohh, pobrecita.”  His voice is soft and dark, like Duvalin (nutella). 

Desire stirs between your legs.  He sucks in air through his teeth as you suck more of him into your mouth, and his tip nudges the back of your throat.  You cup his balls in your free hand and he lets out a low, quiet moan.  

“Tan suave, tan mojado. . .Tu boquita inmunda” (So soft, so wet, your unclean little mouth). 

You give his balls a light squeeze and his hands go to the back of your head, one following the other. He pulls your head down on his cock.

"You're a good little slut," He pants and thrusts his hips, his length sliding down the back of your throat– you try not to gag. "Just need somethin' in this mouth to keep you outta trouble." Tears sting your eyes from the gag reflex.  "Look at me, pobrecita." 

It's not easy but you try to look up. You watch him study your face for a few seconds as he fucks it.  Then you can't suppress it anymore.  You gag and pull your head away, afraid you might actually retch. His grip relaxes, but one hand stays on the crown of your head. He takes his cock in his hand. He kneels down on the floor and with his free hand, begins to take your panties down. You're suddenly very aware of how wet and throbbing you are from having his dick in your mouth.  He's soon aware, too, but he doesn't make a move to get on the sofa with you. He strokes himself with your saliva. "Open your legs." 

You obediently spread them but not far enough. He grabs breast and shoves your upper body back into the couch cushion, then he turns his attention to your cunt. He looks at it studiously and knits his brows.

“Que lástima” (what a shame), he mutters as he admires your glistening hole. “I’m a generous lover, too.” 

“¿Que lástima?” you ask. 

He shakes his head apologetically at your pussy, then meets your eyes. "Won't stick my dick in junkie cunt, sweetheart." 

He returns his gaze between your thighs and wets his lips.  “Juicy as it looks.” You huff and begin to close your legs. He places his massive hands on your knees, spreads them again, then runs his hands up your thighs and spreads them more.  He tilts his head as his thumbs reach the creases of your thighs.  Then he plants his thumbs on your outer lips and spreads you open to the cool air.  His nose twitches as he examines you.  Your clit throbs and you gush wetness. He puffs his cheeks out with an exhale. His dick is still hard between his legs, and he’s not touching it – his composure and self control is a little psycho. 

He gathers your slick, sniffs it with a barely visible snarl, and adds it to your saliva on his cock.  Then he fists his cock while staring between your legs. His free hand reaches up to tear your bra down on both sides, and he lets out a quiet moan at the sight of your tits. He jerks himself with his right hand and his left hand goes  between your legs. 

You're laid back on the sofa with your hips at the edge and he's kneeling between them.  He runs the backs of two digits through your folds, then inserts his thick middle finger and rotates his hand palm up. He pumps it twice and adds a second finger. 

He pumps himself and fingers you and when he's about to cum, he points his cock right between your legs.  He cums all over your mound, dripping down through your folds. He wipes his tip off on your inner thigh.  Then, his massive left hand returns between your legs, sliding through his own mess.  He fucks it into you with two fingers. He watches your face with a subtle, devious flicker behind his stare as he keeps fingering his cum into you. 

The lewdness ofi t makes your walls tighten around his thick digits. He curls them so his hand is rubbing your clit and his brow furrows as you begin to come undone. Your body tenses and your hips lift into his hand. Your back digs into the threadbare cushion. You bite your lip but fail to suppress a moan. He sucks in a deep breath watching you cum. 

“Good girl.” He withdraws his fingers and brings them to your mouth.  You suck off the salty, tangy blend and swallow it. 

He gently pats your cunt. "This is mine, now," he nods, then clenches his jaw and looks back and forth between your eyes.  "We’re gonna get you clean, pobrecita.  Entonces puedo usarla" (Then I can use it). Then he stands up and puts his cock back in his pants. "Put your clothes on, let’s go," he says. He picks them up off the sofa and drops them in your lap. 

Javi is watching you get dressed when someone knocks at the front door. Peña moves toward the door, and on instinct you start to make a break for the back exit, but he sees you in the corner of his eye.  “Ay, putita,” (little slut) he mutters as he bolts toward you.  He catches up just as you'ved opened the door.   His massive hands grab your arms roughly from behind, and he shakes you. "You were doing so fucking good," he spits through gritted teeth as he wrangles you back into the kitchen. He slams you face first up against the fridge and pins you with his left forearm while he grabs his cuffs. 

"You asshole. You're really taking me in? On what??"

He regains his composure and brings his mouth to your ear in a near whisper.  "Not to jail.” 

"Then where are you–" 

His voice is deep and quiet. "Callate, pobrecita." (Be quiet). He closes the cuffs, then tightens them. "It's for your own good." 

—---

If you like this, consider raider Joel (read warnings).

------

Thank you so much for reading and engagement!! Your support and interaction really keeps me going when other things drain me and drag me down. I love you guys.

Note: In general, if someone else’s work inspires yours, please share their work and give a shoutout.   

—----

#raider!javi #raider!javier peña #dark!javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #tw dubcon #cw drugs #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #dark!javi #dark!javi p #the raid ☠️

[briefalpacashark]

~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

================================================

You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo. 

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply. 

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said. 

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.  

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you. 

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly. 

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again. 

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat. 

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat. 

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you. 

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away. 

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away. 

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked. 

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings. 

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back. 

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides. 

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets. 

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off. 

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth. 

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet. 

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it. 

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone. 

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins. 

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back. 

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch. 

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target. 

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you. 

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up. 

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared. 

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

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=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

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~COD Master List Here~

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#141 x reader #cod 141 #cod ghost #141 x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod

[soapskneebrace]

disquiet comfort

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: voyeurism, implied masturbation, John is very lonely and very horny Author's Notes: I tried to get this out yesterday as a birthday present to myself, but I was so dead tired it wasn't gonna happen. Late is better than never! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

John hears the creak of your bed springs the next morning.

He’s not surprised by it—you’re not the first neighbor he’s had, only the first he’s met. He knows how thin the walls are now, and has long passed the point of finding it annoying. He listens as the sound of your taps coming on filters through drywall and insulation at a low hum, thinks he can hear the buzz of an electric toothbrush. He wonders if you can hear his razor going as he trims his mustache.

It feels nice to have this odd company, he thinks. The two of you, going through the same motions. It strikes an old, abandoned chord—he hasn’t woken up with anyone in a long, long time.

He puts his razor down and squashes the thought flat. His neighbor—his kind, pretty neighbor—does not need him to think like that. Even if your eyes had traveled the length and breadth of his body before making it to his face.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror, giving himself a flat look. He isn’t used to civilian life. Answering the door shirtless had probably been some sort of faux pas. If you’d been looking, you’d probably been more disconcerted than anything else. That’s the long and short of it, he tells himself, because there’s no room for anything else.

John is never very good at being home. The things that keep him alive out there—hyperawareness, sharply defined mission parameters, strict operational regimens—are, at home, needs that go unmet. Liverpool is not a popular terrorist hotbed he needs to pay attention to. He isn’t going to die if he forgets to buy milk. And he can only go to the gym so often.

But he needs something to do, or he’s going to go crazy.

So today he does on leave what he dreams of in the field: he has his first of two showers for the day, makes himself breakfast in his own kitchen, and turns on the telly for the noise. It’s some dumb morning show, with too-clean hosts shilling for weird kitchen tools. Easy to ignore.

Inevitably, he thinks about Mexico. About Shepherd. About Chicago, and Hassan, and Laswell telling him he needs to get some goddamn rest before he kills himself trying to stop a war that isn’t even happening.

“Yet,” he’d ground out.

She’d just stared at him with dagger-sharp eyes and told him to go home.

John bites into his toast harder than a grown man told to take a fucking vacation should, and turns up the volume.

Three soft, polite taps sound on the wall.

John blinks. Remembers the previous morning, what he’d said to you. The remote is in his hand before he thinks about it, the mute button depressed beneath a quick thumb.

The quiet is like the end of a gunfight. Unsteady.

He waits. He doesn’t know what for. The silence stretches. He notices a shaft of sunlight coming through his window, little motes of dust dancing in the air, as he looks around his own flat for some reason. It’s habit—surveying a battlefield after it’s been passed over by violence.

He looks back to the space above the TV. Rises carefully from his seat. Goes over to the wall.

Raps his knuckles twice against it. All good?

Immediately there are two taps in response. Yes, thanks! And the break of the still silence is like a soap bubble popping. John breathes, and then realizes he hadn’t been.

There are no further knocks. It disappoints him, but he does not expect them. It’s just a friendly interaction between neighbors.

It doesn’t matter. It feels like something has unknotted in his chest.

-

He feels almost like a voyeur as the day goes on. He hears when you work in your kitchen, notes the muffled clang of a pan on the stove. He hears your dishwasher run later, and briefly wonders at the utility of using it for so few dishes.

You’re on the phone at one point, but he can’t make out the conversation. He only half-tries to, but the even the indistinct, low sound of your voice is comforting. It reminds him of late nights in the barracks, listening to bunk mates talk while trying not bother anyone else. The closest to domestic comfort John has really ever had.

You turn music on at one point, something soulful and a little moody. John thinks it might be Marvin Gaye, but he’s not sure. The urge to knock on your door and ask is a strong one, but he doesn’t think you need a lonely old soldier bothering you in the middle of your day. At least, not any more than he already has. And before he can figure it out for himself, he hears you exclaim “Oh, shit!” and the volume immediately drops.

He has to smile at that. It’s a rare luxury for him to experience these days, that kind of consideration.

Something in his chest gives a little jump when he hears two knocks on his wall again. Sorry, he thinks you’re saying.

He knocks twice back. All good.

He should not feel so invigorated by this exchange.

You leave the house a little after noon—he hears your door open and close, and the jingle of keys followed by footsteps quickly retreating. Then, your noise is gone.

John and silence do not go well together. Too quickly, the quiet closes in, and John thinks if he stays in his own home a minute longer he’ll suffocate from it—so he takes your cue, and leaves. He isn’t really sure what to do, but he has to do it anywhere else.

-

He gets home after you do, sore from the weight racks and full on pub food and a few pints. The sky is dark and the sidewalks are illuminated in yellow lamplight, and the air hums with the wind of cars driving in the distance. He sees your window lit up bright and warm, and the relief it fills him with is disproportionate to how anyone should feel knowing that their neighbor is home.

Where did you go during the day, he finds himself wondering? What are you making for dinner? What will you do once you’ve eaten?

John realizes he’s standing there staring at your window, and scowls at himself. He’s a fucking creep, that’s what he is. A pretty neighbor talks to him once, fucking welcomes him home like any nice person would, and suddenly he’s pining like a stupid little schoolboy.

He goes inside. Hears you in your kitchen again and convinces himself he’s ignoring it. Tries to find something to stay awake with. Has one cigar more than he’d planned for the day, and thinks at least he’ll get to go out and get more sooner—something to do with the wealth of time he didn’t ask to receive.

He’s already in bed, second shower finished, when he hears activity on the other side of the wall. He hadn’t really been falling asleep, but he’s wide awake now, and feeling like a pervert as he listens to your bath come on.

He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone in a long time, either.

John lays there in the dark, eyes open, and tries to ignore how easy it is to breathe as the water runs muffled only a few feet away. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he can hear again the tiny buzz of a toothbrush a little after the flow shuts off. He listens to the creak of your bed and does not think about how warm your skin must be, how softly the sheets must fall around your body.

He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep. He isn’t thinking about listening to your breathing beside him. He isn’t drifting off imagining the smell of your hair on his pillow…

He hears a tiny buzz again. Brushing your teeth a second time? No, it’s closer now…

Oh. OH.

John’s eyes fly open. Your bed creaks again. He is rigid under the covers, every muscle tensed. He breathes consciously, testing the limits of his diaphragm, counting to three between each inhale and exhale. He is desperate that his pulse remain even, that his blood refrain from rushing through his ears and other parts.

A small sound. Breathy. Low.

John slaps his hand against his thigh before it can move any further inward. He curls his fingers around the hem of his briefs, grips the fabric as if it’s going to save his damn life. Clenches his other hand into a fist, digs his nails into his palm.

What expression is on your face? What is the scent of your toothpaste on your breath?

What angle are you holding that vibrator at?

You give a low moan again.

His breath shallows out. John considers giving the wall a tap but dismisses the option immediately and ruthlessly. He will take his secret audience to the fucking grave. And he’d shoot himself before denying you this—and, he thinks shamefully, denying himself this, too.

He should get up. He should go into his living room and give you privacy. Your bed creaks again. He remembers his own mattress tends to the same disruption. He can’t move, because it would effect the same outcome as a knock—you’d know exactly how thin the walls are, know that he’s right there and that he’s only leaving after he’s already gotten an earful.

Another sound, higher. John isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. What did your skin feel like? Would his fingers fit you better than that toy? Would his cock?

He thinks he feels a nail break skin. He tries to think of anything other than the throb of blood and heat between his legs, between your legs.

You give a sudden, high-pitched cry, one that abruptly cuts off.

John knows you’ve buried your face in your pillow to quiet yourself. His entire body twinges with the disappointment of it. He breathes so lowly as to be silent, to give space to your noise, and waits.

But the buzzing stops. Your bed shifts again, and then all is silent.

Wait. What?

Was that it?

The silence stretches. John does not move. That was it.

John does not think about how much longer he could’ve made that last. He does not think about teasing you with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Does not picture your legs hung up high on his hips.

His cock aches. He ignores it.

The gym tomorrow. And then a run. Maybe a drive to the coast, and a dip in the cold ocean.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it had to be something. John isn’t going to get a minute of sleep, and he’s going to be hearing that cut-off moan for a long, long time.

Taglist: @yeyinde @guyfieriiii @aduckingpain @jaimiespn @aconstructofamindd @trashy-panda77777 @lich1 @smoggyfogbottom @cielobgers @antigonusyukii @bubble-dream-inc @monsterhighsblog

The taglist is closed. Thanks everyone for your interest.

#john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #mw2 price #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mwii #cod mwii #mw2 #mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod:mw2 #cod imagine #mw2 smut #cod smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #price x reader #og post #need to make a masterlist... #neighbors au

[holllandtrash]

you know 6 to 1 yn said something about carlos’s mustache and lando threatened to grow his hair back out of playful jealousy

word count: 4.1k tags/warnings: some angst, jealousy, mentions of smut kind of part of the 6 to 1 series

carlossainz55

liked by ynleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 391,202 others

carlossainz55 off to Canada 🇨🇦 let's keep pushing

view all 1,542 comments

scuderiaferrari now that's a smoooth operator

spicysainzz its illegal for a man to look this good

ynleclerc god don't tell me you're growing out your facial hair now too

carlossainz55 you love it ynleclerc sure

“Oh so you like Carlos’ facial hair?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You didn't look up from the cutting board, already deciding that whatever Lando was on about wasn’t as important as making dinner.

“You like his facial hair,” Lando repeated, a statement this time. 

It was impossible to not give him any attention when he shoved his phone in your face. You took a breath, asking yourself what you were getting yourself into as you dropped the knife on the counter and tuned in on his screen, more specifically, at the comment you had left on Carlos’ most recent picture. 

“It’s a harmless comment,” you scoffed, knowing that your friendship with Carlos was nothing for him to worry about, yet he always seemed to be triggered by the most mundane things. 

“But you like his facial hair.”

“Are those the only words you know how to say?” 

You pushed the phone out of your face and turned properly to face him, only then seeing that he wasn’t taking this conversation as a joke the same way you were. His jaw had tightened, the lines in his forehead displayed his very prominent annoyance and you flipped a switch to react accordingly, hand going up to cup his cheek

“Lando,” you said, a slight shake of the head. “You’re being dramatic. I commented on my friend's photo. Who is also your friend. It’s nothing to get worked up over, okay?”

Lando and Carlos were still two peas in a pod. Their bond was unbreakable but since you started dating you could tell he was always slightly on edge whenever you and Carlos were alone together. And of course Lando trusted you, you’re the one person who held his heart he knew you wouldn’t do anything to damage it.

It was Carlos he didn’t trust. 

He didn’t like that Carlos had never once talked to Lando about the kiss you had shared. It was this strange, unspoken thing, but when you tried to explain how weird it would be for Carlos to approach him and say ‘hey, I had feelings for your girlfriend and we kissed but don’t worry about’ it didn’t really click for Lando. 

So he just held his breath and watched from a distance whenever you interacted with the Spanish driver and if he felt your conversations lingered a little too long for his liking, he’d find a way to pull you aside and remind you who exactly you were in the paddock for. 

He had no control over what happened on Instagram, though. And it wasn’t like he was going to tell you to unfollow your brother's teammate, so he just ignored any bitter thoughts that came to mind if he saw your name show up in Carlos’ likes. 

But that comment. 

It was friendly, sure, but it was the fact that it was on the topic of facial hair that really stung. Lando knew how much you hated his facial hair when he tried to grow it out and the only reason he ended up shaving was because you made your dislike for it so abundantly clear. 

So why the fuck did you not hate it on Carlos?

Carlos didn’t have as difficult of a time growing out the stubble like Lando did. And his already prominent moustache was just only going to get thicker and you didn’t hate it. It was clear by your comment, despite it being sarcastic, that you didn’t hate it. 

And Lando hated that.

“You’re really bothered by this,” you said aloud when it sunk in that this wasn’t something Lando would get over after a good night's sleep. 

“I am, yes.”

“And what's bothering you, exactly? The fact that I commented on his picture?” You asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem. “Or are you annoyed that I had a different reaction to his facial hair than I did with yours?”

Lando hesitated before finally muttering a quiet, “Both.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest, wanting not only a bit of space from his childish ways of thinking but also wanting to finish dinner. You picked up the knife and went back to mincing the pepper, not about to coddle Lando or assure him that he had nothing to worry about because this was a conversation you had had way too many times for your liking and if he didn’t know you loved him by now then that was his problem. 

But Lando wasn’t about to move on as easy as you had, “I’m just saying-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” You cut him off, voice shaper than the knife in your hand. Each cut against the board echoed in the confined space and Lando could tell you were applying more pressure than needed, relying on your actions to show that you really didn’t want to have this conversation.

And Lando stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Not just about the picture, but in general. When you asked him to set the table, he did so without his usual childish complaints. The conversation between you during dinner was cold and distant but you didn’t want to press further, knowing that he’d get over this in his own way.

You thought things were fine when he crawled into bed shortly after you did because he curled his arm around your waist like normal, pulling you against his chest as his soft breath hit your neck. You whispered ‘goodnight to him, but his lack of response wasn’t something you thought too much about. 

It wasn’t until you woke up did the trouble really begin. 

You walked into the bathroom first thing in the morning, rubbing your eyes and the residue of mascara that didn’t come off after washing your face last night. After turning on the sink and letting the water run, you wiped a disposable cloth over your face and tossed it out immediately after. Naturally, the rest of your morning routine would have followed, had a perfectly good electric razor not have caught your eye at the top of the garbage can.

“Lando!” You basically screamed, knowing he was in the inbetween stages of awake and asleep when you had gotten out of bed. You heard the rustling of sheets and the patter of footsteps as you grabbed the razor out of the bin. 

When you turned around, one hand resting on your hip you saw a very tired Lando standing in the hallway. Usually the sight of him bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers was enough to have you contemplating dragging him back to bed, but not this time.

“What is this?” You asked, so obviously talking about the razor Lando had thrown out the night prior. “A peaceful protest?”

Lando looked at you and then at the little contraption and then back at you, a hint of a playful smile on his face. Of course now he thought this was funny.

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it.” 

“Are you fu-” you sucked in a breath to avoid losing your shit on him five minutes after waking up. “Why?”

“Because I’m growing out my facial hair again.”

“Why?” 

“Oh is that the only word you know how to say?” Lando asked, mimicking your question from last night with more sarcasm than you wanted to deal with at nine in the morning.

You rolled your eyes and shoved the razer into his chest before storming past him, dragging your fingers through the roots of your hair while he was forced to call your name, stopping you from slamming the door to the bedroom.

“What?” Lando asked, voice raised. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Your hands tensed, cupping your own face as you exhaled into your palms before your arms fell back to your side, “I’m upset because you clearly are doing this because of that stupid comment on Carlos’ picture.”

“Maybe I just want to grow my facial hair out again,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t thrown the razor out again, but that didn’t give you any sort of hope that he would hear you out.

“You don’t,” you scoffed. “You told me yourself it wasn’t permanent the first time. You just wanted to try it out. You tried it and it turns out, not for you.”

“Maybe I’ll like it more the second time.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, instead choosing to turn on your heels and start to walk into your bedroom, muttering a quiet, “Maybe I’ll hate it more the second time”

“Oh but you love Carlos’ facial hair.”

That stopped you in his tracks. Lando finally admitting that it was, in fact, the comment that was getting to him. Carlos and your interaction was the catalyst to all of this and instead of Lando seeing it as an exchange between friends, he was taking it personally.

You turned back around and walked right up to him, nearly chest to chest when he straightened up from the wall. Lando and you didn’t usually fight, both of you knew how important communication and trust was and it was and after the rocky start you had, you never wanted to go back to a place of uncertainty with him.

But this was fucking annoying.

“That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” You asked, holding his stare. “The fucking comment. And you think that growing your facial hair out is, what, a way to get back at me? Because you know I hate it?”

Lando said nothing, a dead giveaway that you were 100% right and he was simply being immature for the sake of being immature. 

“Okay,” you nodded, throwing Lando off when your tone went from deadly to calm before he could blink. “You want to be mad? Fine. I’ll give you something to be mad about.”

Lando watched as you walked back to the room and he hesitantly followed, trying to make sense of whatever that ominous warning was that just came out of your mouth. He didn’t say anything when you walked out of the closet, fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. An Enchante t-shirt even though he thought you were past wearing Danny’s merch. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed a backpack from under the bed and put your wallet and a few other necessities in there because it wasn’t like you were packing. This flat in London was basically your second home and this spat seemed too minor for you to be packing up your things and leaving.

But you were going somewhere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lando asked when you finished brushing a comb through your hair. You slung the straps of the backpack over your shoulder and then, this was the kicker, you grabbed your passport that was sitting on top of the dresser.

You barely looked at him as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his before you headed straight for the door. 

“Back to Monaco. See you in Canada.”

—————

You were true to your word. Cutting off communication with Lando until you landed in Montreal the Thursday before the grand prix weekend started. 

Lando, in return, did not reach out. But he did make it perfectly obvious that he was growing out the facial hair again, making sure to post about it every chance he got. You swore you had never seen him share so many pictures on his photography account and were you a little upset he went to New York without you? Kind of, but you were stubborn and so was he and you had now found yourselves giving each other the cold shoulder over a goddamn comment on Carlos fucking Sainz’s instagram picture.

“What’s up with you and Lando?” Charles asked, an unmistakable pep in his voice that you raised your eyebrows at. He stood next to you on the balcony overlooking the paddock, arms rested over the railing and mirroring your position, but he cleared his throat and reworded his question. “It’s just, something’s up, no?”

You shouldn’t have been surprised he figured out there was tension. If Lando’s fans could put two and two together when you neglected to comment or even like any of his pictures, your own brother could figure it out too.

“He’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well I could have told you that,” Charles snorted. “What really happened?”

“I commented on Carlos’ picture a few weeks ago and Lando took it as me liking Carlos’ facial hair even though I made it perfectly clear I hated it when he was trying to grow out his hair.”

Charles took a second to repeat your words in his head, “He’s upset because you commented on Carlos’ moustache?”

You nodded, “And now he’s growing his facial hair out again out of spite.”

“This is about so much more than facial hair isn’t it?”

You clasped your hands together. You felt Charles’ eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head but you focused on the people wandering around the paddock. 

“He’s just dramatic and immature,” you muttered, deciding that was an easier answer than to have a whole therapy session with him. “He’ll learn his lesson, though. I have an idea.”

“Why do I have a feeling you are also about to be dramatic and immature?”

You laughed in response, right as you spotted the exact person you needed to help you with this idea. You patted Charles on the arm and told him you’d see him later before you all but sprinted down the stairs of the motorhome to chase after the other Ferrari driver.

“Carlos!” You called out, running after him before he could get too far. He turned around when he heard his name, a smile on his face when he recognized the voice belonging to you. 

You had to admit, the grown out facial hair did suit him. Carlos was always handsome but this made him look more mature, more distinguished. 

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said, a playful smile painted on your lips.

Carlos nodded, “This sounds like deja vu.”

“It has to do with getting back at Lando.”

“Now it really sounds like deja vu,” His eyes widened momentarily as he thought back to what happened in the club when you last asked for his help. He was still traumatised from that DJ set. But Carlos loved you, platonically of course, he would always help you. “What do you need, hermosa?”

A few photographers started to crowd you and usually at this point, any driver would continue walking to get away from the unscheduled media harassment. But this was what you needed.

You raised your hand up to his jaw, thumb tracing over the hair he was growing out as a shimmer of adoration glossed over your eyes. Your lips curled upwards and Carlos, even though he was certainly confused, played along, loving any excuse to mess with Lando.

“Just tell me to kiss you and I will,” Carlos joked quietly, face only inches from yours, and you pushed on his chest in response. He caught you a little off guard when he reached for your hand and pulled you back before you could force some space between you. 

You glanced at his lips as Carlos held your hand between your bodies. You reached up with your other hand to cup his chin lightly, thumb dangerously close to his lips. To anyone walking by, it most likely looked like you were about to kiss him.

But you got all that you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shooting him a wink before you pulled yourself from his grasp and walked back to the Ferrari motorhome, knowing that the media was about to have a field day with those photos. 

You didn’t see Lando at all in the paddock. Whether that was intentional on his behalf or not, you had no idea. You did, however, see your name blowing up on twitter along with all of the comments about how you and Carlos looked too damn friendly to be just friends. 

Lando’s text came about an hour after your name started trending. 

Charles told you that you potentially took it a step too far, having a few choice words himself to say about you and Carlos, all of which you tuned out and told him you knew what you were doing. 

But you weren’t entirely sure who had the upper hand when you got your key from the receptionist and made your way up to Lando’s suite at the end of the night. You purposely took your time getting there, deciding to go out for dinner with a friend first before finding yourself at his hotel.

And now you were holding your breath as the card reader turned green and unlocked. You pushed the door open, not having anticipated seeing Lando sitting on the couch and leaning forward as he scrolled through his laptop that was perched on the coffee table. He heard you walk in, heard you put your bag on the counter, heard you slide your shoes off and clear your throat, but he didn’t look up once.

Lando simply turned the laptop around on the table so the screen was facing you instead. On the screen was a tweet, or maybe it was a photo from Instagram, you were standing too far away to tell the source but you could make out the image of you and Carlos.

More specifically, the image of you holding your hand against Carlos’ cheek and giving him the smile that was usually reserved for Lando. One he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks.

He clicked on the trackpad and the next one appeared. Much more intimate than the last as this was the photo that gave Lando a heart attack. He didn’t expect to open his phone after the media pen interview and see pictures of his girlfriend about to kiss his best friend.

You didn’t regret what you did, that little act. You didn’t actually do anything except plant an idea in Lando’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. You took a few, horribly slow, steps forward. You were nervous about how this conversation would go, but you knew how to mask your emotions enough and as Lando stood up, eyeing you over, you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze.

He scratched his chin, his overgrown stubble, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

You expected him to snap. To say something about the facial hair, about the photos, about Carlos. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you assumed that the first conversation you had would be a fight, because, let’s face it, you were both dramatic and immature.

But you didn’t expect his shoulders to drop and for his stare to go from cold to distant as he opened his mouth and asked a question that broke you the way nothing else in your life ever could.

“Do you love me?”

It caught you by surprise, “Do I-” You took a few steps forward, the wall you had up had now fallen and all you wanted to do was reach for him. “Why are you even asking that? Of course I love you. You know I love you.”

“So then why?” He asked, referring to the photos.

You exhaled a breath before responding, “Because you were making a big deal out of that stupid comment, Lando.”

He stepped forward too, closing the gap between you inch by inch, “I made the appropriate amount of deal over seeing my girlfriend flirt with someone on social media.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not yet. It seemed that you both wanted to avoid that. You weren’t ones to yell at each other, you argued, yes, but your voices never echoed off the walls. 

And you didn’t want to yell, not when you knew what this was really about.

Your lips parted, but you barely got a thought out, “Lando-”

“He still has feelings for you.” He stated, as if Carlos had told him that himself. “He still likes you and I know- I know you guys are friends, I can’t tell you not to be friends but I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like that you are blissfully unaware that he’s into you, that he’s-”

“No, you know what I don’t like?” You cut him off sharply. “I don’t like that this is clearly something that’s bothering you and instead of talking about it to me from the beginning, you let it simmer and focus on things like comments and facial hair and being childish, Lando.” 

When you stepped forward, Lando thought you were about to lose it on him. Instead, you lifted your hands to cup beneath his jaw, your thumbs gently tracing small circles on his cheek and Lando could finally breathe because this was the first time in days he was feeling your touch and even though things were strange between you, your hands holding his face in font of yours felt right.

“You need to talk to me about these things,” you told him. “If something’s eating at you like this. How was I supposed to know this was so much bigger than a stupid fucking moustache?”

Lando laughed at your question, because it really was insane when he thought about it. He should have told you about his distrust with Carlos instead of letting his frustration boil up.

“Lando, I love you,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. “I love everything about you, everything that matters. Your heart, your soul, the way you treat people, your sense of humour, the way I can trust you with absolutely everything, how you managed to win over my entire family and for fucks sakes, yes, I absolutely hate your facial hair but have you ever stopped and thought about why?” 

Of course he hadn’t. Lando acted first and thought later.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, your eyes darting down to his lips as you pulled him closer, his hands finding your waist. 

You lips hovered over his, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss, something just within his reach but when he tried to connect your lips you kept pulling back, leaving him hanging.

“Because it itches.”

Lando pulled his head back, still in your grasp but no longer trying to kiss you as confusion flashed over his features instead.

“Itches?”

“Itches,” you repeated with a slow nod. “I don’t like your facial hair-” you ran your thumb over his chin and the stubble he had grown out. “-because when you go down on me, it. Itches.”

Lando opened his mouth, only to close it promptly while your words sunk in. Of course that had never crossed his mind, that the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against the inside of your thighs, near your folds, would cause displeasure. 

“And I’m sorry about the incident with Carlos,” you continued on, knowing you had to address it. “I’m not making excuses but if you are acting childish, I- in return -will also act childish. If I had known it was about more than facial hair, I wouldn’t have caused such a scene but god, Lando, I don’t give a shit about Carlos growing out a beard or a moustache because it’s not his lips on me. It’s not him eating me out.”

Lando cleared his throat, not surprised that you were so blunt with your choice of words. You always were. He was surprised, though, when you stepped away from him and turned around, leaving him a little speechless as you walked towards the bedroom.

Before stepping through the door frame, you glanced over your shoulder and raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you just going to stand there?”

That got him moving. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off as he followed your footsteps, discarding the top behind him. When his arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, you melted into his hold.

You craned your neck, giving him more than enough access to press his lips to your skin. Your hands covered his as the quietest moan followed a strained exhale. He trailed his lips upwards, but refrained from going further, lifting his head up after just a few seconds.

You turned and looked at him, spotting that stupid grin on his face. 

He nudged you towards the bed, “Get comfy, my love, I need to take care of something first.”

You didn’t need to question what he had to take care of. He planted a kiss on your cheek and retreated towards the bathroom. Doing what he said, you climbed atop the bed and you as well, had a stupid grin on your face when you overheard the dull sound of an electric razor trailing in from the hallway.

And god was it music to your ears.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #ln4 #holllandtrash #6 to 1 series

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes Noah to visit you at your place, and while he's there, he finds something he doesn't like. After an unexpected run-in with Meredith and a quick visit with Greyson, he has reached his limit for the week.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was feeling a little bolder about stopping by your place after Meredith made herself look like an idiot in front of the judge. Maybe it wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but he and Noah were both dying to see you. So he packed up some things for Noah to play with at your house and drove over on Saturday afternoon. 

When Bradley parked in front of your little rental, Noah was sound asleep in his car seat. You came running out to greet them, but you got quiet when Bradley placed his finger over his lips and nodded toward the backseat. "He's asleep," he whispered, scooping his son out of the car seat. 

Bradley leaned down to kiss your glossy lips as he carried Noah inside and set him down on your couch. Without a word, you procured a soft blanket to cover him, and then Bradley was pulling you into the kitchen. 

"Hi," you whispered as he backed you up against the counter. Your eyes were wide as Bradley let his fingers start to push up the bottom of your tight shirt before he kissed you again. 

"Hi, Princess," he mumbled against your lips. He wanted to fuck you so badly. It had been a week since he had you, and he knew how good you were. His body craved you almost nonstop. When he pressed his nose against your neck, he could feel your heart racing as he inhaled your sweet wildflower scent. "I missed you."

You moaned softly as he placed one big palm on your bare lower back and eased your shirt up inch by inch. "Daddy," you whispered, caressing the back of his neck with your gentle touch. His lips were on yours again as he slipped his muscular thigh between your legs and pushed your ass a little harder back against the edge of your kitchen counter. "Oh," you gasped softly as he held you between his leg and his big hand. 

Anchored in place like this, he guided you forward with his hand so your core rubbed up along his thigh. He watched your eyes flutter closed and back open as you bit your lip. 

"Does that feel good?" he asked softly as you let yourself slide back down his thigh with a sigh. 

"Yes," you squeaked as he guided you back up toward his hard cock. When you nudged him, he grunted, but he let you keep rolling your hips up and down, up and down. Your fingers dug into the back of his neck as your wide eyes fluttered closed again and your head tipped back. 

"You needed your Daddy," he growled, cupping your pussy through your thin leggings. Your loud gasp as you started to rock against his hand had him leaning down to nibble on your neck. 

"More," you whined, and Bradley stroked your slit through the fabric until a hysterical giggle bubbled out of you. 

He dragged his mustache along your neck until his lips were pressed to your ear. "You're so fucking sensitive. Makes me want to get you off constantly."

You whined Bradley's name loud enough that he mashed his lips to yours to keep you quiet as you rubbed your pussy against him. He could feel your swollen clit as you rode his hand and his thigh until you were mumbling against his mouth and shaking. When the roll of your hips turned to stuttering jerks, you came, arms wrapped tight around his neck as you kissed him hard and whimpered. 

"Good girl," he groaned, rubbing his hand gently along your back and side as your movements started to slow. He watched you come to rest on his thigh, eyes hazy and soft as you smiled up at him like he was your hero. And then your hand found his hard cock through his jeans just as Bradley heard Noah call for him. 

"Princess," he whispered, kissing you softly, and easing his thigh from between your legs just as Noah came running into the kitchen with a worried look on his face.

"But Daddy," you whimpered, still reaching for Bradley's cock. Then you noticed Noah, and you quickly backed away as you pulled your shirt back over your midsection. 

Bradley watched his son run to you, and you quickly scooped him up into your arms and hugged him tight. "Noah! I missed you!"

"Missed you," he echoed quietly as you carried him to your tiny kitchen table which Bradley noticed was filled with art supplies. You glanced at Bradley over your shoulder, still looking a little dazed, as you set Noah in one of the two seats and opened up some markers for him.

"Why don't you color some things for me to hang on my refrigerator?" you asked, combing your fingers through Noah's soft curls as he looked up at you with a smile that was melting Bradley's heart. "I still have plenty of room."

And as you sat down in the other chair, Bradley took the time to look around your kitchen more. You had hung up a few of Noah's art projects on your refrigerator; things the two of you must have made when Bradley was still going on his app dates. You had written the date on the bottom corner of each of them. He saw a few more things taped up next to your stairs as he ventured into your small living room. 

You loved his son. It was so obvious. Your laughter combined with Noah's and filled your house, and Bradley closed his eyes to memorize it. He hoped like hell that the court appearance on Wednesday would finish off things with Meredith so he could actually move on. But when he opened his eyes, he saw your ex boyfriend's fraternity hoodie still hanging next to your door. 

He yanked it down from the hook and strolled back into the kitchen just as you were plating some ants on logs for Noah. You smiled and held one up for Bradley, and he let you feed it to him. You smiled as you set the plate down in front of Noah, and then you saw what Bradley was holding. 

"Why do you still have this?" he grunted, and your eyes met his again.

"Nothing's going on," you insisted. "Promise."

He kissed your soft cheek and whispered, "Then you won't mind me dropping this off at his place for you?"

You licked your lips and stared at him for a moment. "You have no reason to be jealous, Daddy." Bradley grunted. But you quickly asked him. "Do I?"

His brow creased as he kissed your lips. "Why would you think that?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "Noah just told me that Helen kept talking him about you. He also said she's bad at singing and drawing, and that I'm his favorite. Who's Helen?"

"She works at Penny's bar, and Noah saw her the other day. Listen," he told you with a smug smile, "Helen can look all she wants, but that's the only thing she'll be doing."

"Hmm," you hummed with another shrug. "Okay."

Before you could turn away from him, Bradley wrapped his hand around your hip and then slowly let his fingers trail up your body. Your lips parted as he ran them along the valley between your breasts. You were obviously not wearing a bra, so Bradley took a moment to tease your nipples before running his index finger up the length of your neck and grasping your chin. 

You were panting slightly, and your peaked nipples looked gorgeous through your tight shirt. "Why don't you write down your ex boyfriend's address for me so I can drop this off for him one day?" Bradley requested again, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"I already told you. That's something a boyfriend would do." Your voice was soft, but your eyes were wide and focused on him.

"Exactly."

You nodded a few times, and then you were in Bradley's arms, kissing his lips.

---------------------------

You sat with Noah on your lap as the three of you ate the spaghetti and salad you had prepared. You made a show of pouring dressing on the salad as Bradley kissed your neck and whispered, "Keep going," while you laughed. Noah just looked at both of you as he ate a meatball with his fingers. 

"Is it yummy?" you asked him as you ate some pasta. 

"Yep," Noah said, wiping his hands on Bradley's arm. You had to stifle your laughter as he asked, "Will you come to our house again?"

You met Bradley's eyes as he wiped the sauce off of his arm with a napkin. "Hopefully soon. I miss playing with your blocks, and you have better construction paper than I do."

"Yeah," he said before shoving some noodles into his mouth. "But you have good coloring books."

"I'm glad you think so," you whispered before you kissed his cheek.

After dinner, Bradley barely let you out of his grasp. His hand was always holding yours or on your back, and you were starting to have some very strong feelings. 

"Let me wash the dishes," he muttered, pressing his lips to your right arm which was finally mostly healed. "Go watch Mickey Mouse with Noah, I got this."

So you snuggled with Noah on your couch and sang the songs from the cartoon with him, smiling every time he laughed at the show. And a while later, when Bradley joined you, he repositioned you and Noah so that your head was resting on his thigh and his hand was stroking the back of your neck. 

You loved this. It wasn't quite as good as being at Bradley's house, on his bigger couch with the bigger TV, but it was still so close to being perfect. And when Bradley whispered that it was getting late and they needed to leave, you were already asking when you could see them again.

"I'm not sure, Princess. Soon, I hope," he whispered, kissing your lips softly while Noah tried to put his shoes on by himself. Then you knelt to help him while Bradley balled Greyson's hoodie up in his fist and pocketed the post-it note with Greyson's address on it. You felt a little giddy over how serious he was about getting that particular article of clothing out of your house.

"I'll miss you both," you told them, kissing Noah's forehead after Bradley scooped him up with his free arm. You waved from the door as they drove away, and then the silence made you frown as you closed the door. When you walked into the kitchen, it was spotlessly clean. All of your dishes had been washed and put away. And there was a pack of Skittles on the counter.

------------------------

Bradley was used to talking to you for an hour every night before he went to bed. He could have listened to anything you wanted to say to him, but as soon as your tone grew playful, he always got hard for you. It didn't even have to be sexual, because it was just you. Just your voice. 

"Thanks for the Skittles," you told him with a little laugh on Monday night. Bradley was holding the phone to his ear and shamelessly palming himself through his underwear. "One of my friends from class asked for a few, and I sounded like a complete sociopath when I had to tell her no."

Bradley chuckled. "You wouldn't share them?"

"No! They were from you! I ate them all!"

Bradley grunted and you went quiet. 

"What are you doing?" you asked softly. 

"Really enjoying the sound of your voice right now," he replied, smirking to himself. 

"Oh," you gasped. "You want me to keep talking?"

"Of course."

"Mmm," you hummed. "But maybe I'm enjoying your 'Daddy voice' right now."

"My 'Daddy voice'? What's that?" he asked, pulling himself free from his underwear. 

"You know," you told him softly. "The stern one you used when you told me to lay off Jake and the college boys."

"You liked that?" he asked. Every time you called him Daddy it somehow fucked him up and put him back together at the same time. He couldn't wait for the day he could have you in his bed and hear you say it over and over again. But for now, this was going to have to do.

"I loved it," you purred, and Bradley groaned as he started jerking himself off.

"Princess, you're so good for Daddy, he rarely ever has to use his stern voice," he grunted, and he knew you must be touching yourself, too.

"What if I do something bad?" you asked. "What if... I told you I'm going to call Greyson tomorrow?"

"Hell no," Bradley growled as he moved his hand down his length and pictured your face. "Absolutely not, baby. Delete his phone number."

"Yes!" you squealed with delight. "That's your Daddy voice!"

He groaned and said, "I'm so close."

He could hear your breathing growing deeper. "If I were there, you know what I would do?"

"Tell me," he panted before biting his lip. 

You moaned loudly and said, "I'd get down on my knees on the floor in front of you so you could paint my face with your cum."

"Yep," he growled, and then he was making a mess on his own abs but dreaming about your pretty face, smiling and coated white with his cum. "And I'd love to do that to you."

"I'll let you, Daddy. But first I'm going to need that deep Daddy voice again. Right now."

Bradley spent the next ten minutes telling you every depraved thought that came to his mind until he heard you crying out through the phone. And when you asked him if he planned on doing all of those things to you, he told you yes. And he meant it.

-------------------------

On Tuesday morning, after Bradley dropped Noah off at daycare a little earlier than usual, he zipped over to his coffee shop. As soon as the barista saw him, he smiled, and she nodded. The line was pretty long, but when he got to the front, both of his drinks were already waiting for him. 

"Thanks," he told her as she started on somebody else's order. He borrowed the sharpie and labelled both cups before stuffing some cash into the tip cup. 

"So you're still seeing her? Princess?" 

Bradley whipped around to see Meredith standing right behind him. "Are you following me?" he demanded, but she just laughed. 

"No. I don't need to follow you. I have you where I want you now."

Bradley looked at her face which was completely void of emotion. He found that almost funny, because he was certain he was starting to turn bright red. "Stay the fuck away from me," he warned, but she just smiled. 

"Still unable to control your temper, I see. Noah shouldn't have to be exposed to that."

"Seriously, Meredith." He was ready to push past her and go back to the Bronco, but she just shook her head.

"I am always serious, Bradley. You're the one messing around. I thought you'd be spending as much time as possible with your own child. While you still can. But instead you're buying coffee for a different child." 

Bradley had to bite back every horrible thing he wanted to say to her, and instead he asked, "What happened to your lawyer last week? He get cold feet all of a sudden? One minute I saw him in the hallway, and the next, he was gone."

She pressed her lips together as her nostrils flared. "Don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried, Meredith. Just curious. I can't understand why you want Noah now. After years of not giving a single fuck about either of us."

Her smirk made his skin crawl as she said, "I'll see you and Noah in court next week."

Bradley froze. "Next week? You mean tomorrow."

"I said what I meant." And then she picked up her coffee and disappeared through the door.

Bradley's phone vibrated in his pocket on his way to the Bronco, and he answered it without really looking to see who it was. 

"Yeah?"

"Bradley. It's Tracy. Listen, Meredith managed to get the custody hearing pushed back. Instead of tomorrow, it's on the docket for one day next week."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. His blood was positively boiling. 

"Yes, really. I don't know how she did it, and I'm still trying to dig up the dirt on what happened with her lawyer last week. But I assure you, I will get to the bottom of all of this."

"Thanks, Tracy," he grunted, sloshing some of the coffee onto his hand as he tried to unlock his door. "Fuck," he growled. 

He didn't know what was going on, but he felt sick. He climbed in quickly and started the engine. With a little luck, you'd still be home. He checked the time continuously as he drove, but when he turned down your street, he lost all hope. Your car was gone. He had missed you. And he was in such a shitty mood now.

"Fucking Meredith," he growled, smacking his steering wheel as he continued past your house. He drank both coffees as he drove across town, and then he decided it was a good time to take some of his anger out on someone else. So he pulled Greyson's address out of his glovebox and turned left. 

When he pulled up in front of a nice looking building, he double checked the address. "Fucking rich asshole kid," Bradley growled, killing the engine and digging the hoodie out from under the passenger seat. He balled it up in one big hand and made his way up the sidewalk to the correct door. He knocked hard three times and waited. Then he knocked again. 

Just before he was about to drop the hoodie on the front step and leave, he heard someone inside talking and trying to unlock the door. "Fuck, Roxanna. You just fucking left." And then the door swung open to reveal who Bradley assumed was your ex boyfriend in just some boxer shorts.

"You Greyson?" he asked in what you would have called his Daddy voice.

"Who the hell are you?" 

"Are. You. Greyson?"

"Yeah," he replied, looking Bradley up and down. "What the fuck do you want?"

Greyson was lanky and blond and looked like a little shit. Bradley thrust the sweatshirt against his chest, sending him staggering back a step. 

"She doesn't need that anymore."

"Huh?" he asked, shaking out the sweatshirt and looking at it before looking back at Bradley. 

"Are you stupid? Or hard of hearing? I said she doesn't need your sweatshirt. She has a better one now."

Bradley briefly pictured you sleeping on his couch in his well worn UVA sweatshirt which calmed him down again.

"Whatever. You can have her," Greyson said casually before slamming the door in Bradley's face. 

He turned and walked back to the Bronco, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles as he went. It would be hours before he could hear your voice over the phone, and he missed you so much right now. He sent you a quick text. 

Princess, I miss you. Send me a picture if you have a chance?

Then he drove to base and pulled the sleeves of his flight suit on while he walked toward the hangar. As soon as Nat saw him, her eyes went wide.

"It's too early for you to be this pissed off. What's going on?"

"Fucking Meredith and fucking Greyson," he growled, reaching for his helmet where it was hanging. 

"Who's Greyson?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

"A little shit," he replied before adding, "and Meredith got the court date pushed back somehow."

Nat put her hand on his chest and forced him to look at her. "Okay. Did you talk to your lawyer?"

"Yeah," he growled. "But I ran into Meredith this morning when I stopped for coffee."

She nodded and hugged him. "That explains a lot. Take a deep breath so you don't get grounded."

Bradley let her hold him as he took some deep breaths, and of course after a minute or so, he felt a lot better. "Thanks, Nat."

"That's what I'm here for," she assured him. "Now why exactly is it a big deal if the court appearance is postponed?"

He ran his palm over his face. "Because I don't know what the hell Meredith is up to. And my lawyer costs a fortune. And I just want to have a normal life where I can date who I want to and take care of my own fucking child."

"Okay," she said. "You're not wrong. You're totally right. But in the grand scheme of things, maybe it's not so bad?"

He took one more deep breath and agreed. "Yeah. You're right. It'll be okay."

Then his phone vibrated, and you fixed his entire day.

Babysitter: Not sure what kind of picture you wanted, Daddy...

You had attached one selfie of you outside in the sunlight, walking across your campus with a smile on your face. And you attached a second photo of you in a bathroom stall flashing your tits for him. Bradley smiled and sent you back at least a dozen heart emojis before tucking his phone away for later. 

"I'm fine, Nat. Let's go."

---------------------------

Meredith and Greyson are enough to ruin anybody's day. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 19

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[ilovepedro]

Muñequita | javier peña x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: Javier comes home from a shit day at work, and puts your free use agreement to work.

Warnings: free use, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), doggy style, papi (daddy) kink, dom!Javi, dom/sub dynamic, spanking, degradation, praise kink, creampie, fluff, after care, reader is female, reader has hair Javier can pull but no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i cranked this out in like an hour. this literally came out of nowhere, i've just been thinking about Javi a lot. like honest to god this is just the result of me watching too many Javi edits on tiktok and a severe case of Javi P brain rot :P hope y'all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

Sighing as he unlocks the door to your home, he loosens the tie around his neck and tosses his keys onto the counter. He toes off his shoes and kicks them to where yours lay in the foyer. The sound of music and the smell of something cooking catches his attention, pulling him into the kitchen.

The frustration from today dissipates ever so slightly at the sight of you at the counter, preparing dinner. He trudges to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a kiss on your neck, eliciting a startled yelp from you.

“Javi! I didn’t even hear you come in, you scared me!” You yell, setting the knife down and turning around in his embrace. He sighs and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Rough day?” You ask, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck. He silently responds with a nod as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. 

Javier isn’t typically one for talking about what’s bothering him. Letting him open up to you at his own pace, you two have an agreement: he can fuck you whenever and however he likes after a hard day.

A moan threatens to spill over your lips as he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone. “What can I do to help, papi?” Asking teasingly as you feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

He snarls at your words, gripping your hair and drawing you into him. “I think you already know the answer to that, bebita.” He sinks to his knees, hands roaming to the hem of your dress. Your scent intoxicating as he leans in to hike your dress up over your stomach and bunching it up over his head. He groans as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt. 

“No panties, baby? Did you know I was gonna come home pissed off huh? Make sure my meeting went to shit so you’d get fucked like a little slut?” You whimper at his words as you shake your head.

“No, Javi, I swe-,”

You’re cut off with a light smack to your thigh, moaning at the dull sting. “Uh uh. What’s my name, bebita?” Javier growls. “P-papi,” you whimper. “That’s right,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound.

“Look at her, bebita. She’s drooling for me. All from being called a slut?” He rasps against your thighs, his prickly mustache scratching them as he litters kisses along them. Javier doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together, noticeably clenching around nothing.

A soft bite pulls you from your trance, gasping as he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh. “Yes, papi. Wanted to give you something nice to come home to,” you moan, locking eyes with him as his hands roam up to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“My sweet bebita walking around here with no panties on like a good little slut. You go out in public like this or just here, waiting for papi to get home?” 

“Only here, only for you, papi,” you pant, your neediness increasing by the second. Your words elicit a growl from him.

He dives in with no warning, your head swims at the sensation of his tongue on your dripping core. “Oh fuck, papi!” He hums as he laps at your juices, licking a broad stripe up your folds, parting your lips with his tongue. Endless moans stream from your lips as a new wave of slick seeps from your cunt and into his mouth.

He groans at the taste of you, his cock twitching in his suit. “F-feels so, s-so good, papi,” you whine as you toss your head back. The smell of something burning piques your interest, turning your head to the side. The pan you’d left on the stove sends smoke into the air, completely forgotten in the midst of everything. You gently tap Javier’s shoulder. “Papi, d-dinner,” you stutter through your moans as Javier curls his lips around your clit.

Grunting at your words, Javier turns it into a race - betting he can make you cum before the smoke detector sets off. Eager to win, he shoves two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. Your eyes fly open, inhaling a sharp gasp at the unexpected intrusion.

The sting from the stretch is welcomed and so utterly delicious, you clench around them as he relentlessly suckles on your swollen, puffy clit. “Ja- Papi, wait, gotta - hah - gotta turn off the stove,” you whine. He doesn’t relent, in fact, his pace picks up as he laps at your core. His long, thick fingers ruthlessly hitting your g-spot as he fucks them and in and out of you. The smoke permeates the air, your head swirling as your orgasm approaches.

He groans as he feels you clench around his fingers. The vibrations of it sending you crashing into your orgasm.

“Papi!” You scream, seizing up under his hold as you uncontrollably convulse, bucking your hips up into his mouth. Moaning as he drinks up every last drop of your slick. He pulls back, the skirt of your dress slightly falling.

Without moving from his spot, he keeps one hand on your thigh while reaching for the knob on the stove, turning it off before the smoke detector can beep. The smoke slowly dissipates through the open windows as he turns his attention back to you.

A bead of sweat drips from your brow from the combination of the heat and your orgasm. He lets the hem of your dress fall back into place and rises to his feet. His lips crash onto yours. His mustache damp as his chin glistens with your slick, smearing it onto yours. The kiss ravenous and heady, you moan into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“Bedroom, now,” he rasps, grabbing your hand and hurriedly leading you to your shared room.

He nearly throws you across the room as he flings you onto the bed, shucking his suit jacket off in the process.

Drawing him in by the tie, you suck his bottom lip into yours as you fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. He fiddles with his belt as you slip off his shirt, tugging his curls in your hands - deepening the kiss.

He helps you tear the dress from your body, your lips still connected. Swiftly unhooking your bra and tossing it on the floor, he growls at the sight of you laid out, stark naked on the bed for him.

You coyly spread your legs, your cunt still wet and sticky from earlier. Flames burning in your core as he removes his briefs. His angry, red cock throbbing as his seed spills over the tip as his eyes blow wide with lust.

He pumps himself in his first, lathering his length in his precum. “Turn around bebita. All fours,” he demands.

You quickly follow his instructions, eager to be stuffed full of him. Propping yourself up on all fours, teasingly arching your back as you wiggle your ass. A sharp smack comes crashing down onto your ass, a loud moan escaping you.

He snarls at your teasing. The bed dips behind you, as Javier settles in behind you. Gripping your hair, he yanks you flushed against his chest. “You gonna be a good girl, baby? Or are we gonna have a repeat of last time?”

The delicious memory of him restraining you to the bed, edging you for hours replays in your head.

Despite how appetizing that sounds, your neediness overpowers your decision making as you’re desperate for him to fuck you.

“Yes, papi, I’m gonna be good, I promise,” you keen as he nips at your ear lobe. “Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, tossing you back onto the mattress.

His girthy, long cock drags along your ass and teasingly prods at your aching pussy. Anticipation bubbles in your tummy as he lines up his length with your entrance. He enters you in one, slow motion, drawn out moans from both of you filling the air along with the squelch of your pussy.

Filling you to the hilt, you pant as he languidly pulls out of you before ramming back into you. You duck your head into the mattress, muffling your moans.

“Uh uh, don’t do that. Look into the mirror and let me hear you, baby. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make for papi,” he says as he slowly begins fucking you.

Turning your head to the side, you catch a glimpse of you two in the mirror. A particularly loud moan escapes you at the sight of him buried in you while he fucks into your sopping cunt, stroking your g-spot. The familiar mouthwatering sting of his cock causes tears to blur your vision.

“M-more, papi, more! Please!” You beg, needing more than the slow pace he’s going at. Suddenly, he’s ramming into you fast and hard, grunting with every thrust against your cervix as your cries fill the air.

“That hard enough for you? You like getting fucked like a slut, baby? Como una muñequita, like my little doll?” His hips snapping into yours, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust.

“Yes, papi, yes! Your little doll to use whenever you want, do anything you want with, papi!” You cry out on a choked sob, tears of pleasure streaming from your eyes. A tug of your hair elicits a high-pitched moan from you.

“I’m the luckiest man, bebita. Coming home to my girl cooking for me and letting me fuck her whenever I want, however I want. So fucking good for me, baby. So. Fucking. Good,” he moans loudly, his hips punctuating his words.

“Only for you, papi," you breathlessly whine. 

“That’s right, baby. Only for me. Cum for me, bebita. Wanna see you cum on my cock. Look in the mirror and look how pretty you are when you cum all over my cock, baby. Be a good girl for papi and cum, bebita,” he babbles.

You shift your gaze to the mirror again and the sight of him fucking you along with his words launch you into your climax, screaming as he grips your hips harder.

“Fill me up, papi. Stuff me full of your cum. Want it so bad, need your cum, papi, please,” you sob through your release. 

Thrusts growing sloppy as he fucks you through your high.

"Fuck!" He grunts as he coats your walls with his warm load, dribbling out of you and smearing between your thighs and onto your cunt.

Toppling over you, he remains inside as he rests his weight on top of you. Pants and the smell of sex linger in the air as he softens inside of you. He grunts as he pulls out, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder before padding into the bathroom.

Your limbs feel like jelly as you lay there, pliable and fucked out. Javier returns with a damp washcloth and kneels down to gently clean in between your legs, eliciting a soft hum from you.

He carefully flips you onto your back, delicately swiping at your mound, causing you to hiss at the contact - still sensitive from your back-to-back orgasms. 

“Lo siento, bebita,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss on your hip. “Estás bien, papi,” you softly tell him as you run your fingers through his hair. He goes to toss the washcloth into the laundry basket before coming to saddle beside you in bed.

Scooping you up in his embrace, he places a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I meant it, bebita,” his words making you perk up, your brows furrowed as you lock eyes with him, confused as to what he means.

“I’m the luckiest man and I don’t thank you enough, so… thank you, baby. I love you,” he rasps as he gazes into your twinkling eyes. Your features soften at his words, a small smile splaying onto your lips.

“No need to thank me, baby. I’m happy to do anything for you. I love you, Javi,” you whisper, cupping his face and drawing him in for a leisure kiss.

Your lips stay melded to one another’s for a moment until the sound of Javier’s growling stomach interrupts you two. You break the kiss as you burst into a fit of giggles.

“What?!” Javier asks, a smirk playing at his lips at the sound of your laughter. “I knew I should’ve stopped you when we almost burned dinner!” You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. A chuckle rumbles from within him, you lightly bounce on his chest as he laughs.

“We can order something, I know you’re tired, bebita. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

“Okay.”

tag list: @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @tinygarbage @party-hearses @pascalpvnk @daydreamingmiller @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed

#javier peña narcos #javi peña #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña one shot #javier peña smut #narcos

[deadsetobsessions]

More triplet tim PLEASEE

Aye, aye!

@batman-soup your idea just gives on giving omg what magic are you cooking in your head bc this prompt literally went absolutely crazy in mine

Commissioner Gordon was a decorated veteran of the GCPD, having lasted in the force longer than most without buckling under the pressure and temptation of being a dirty cop. That means he’s seen some shit, and he’s been in some shit. Even when Batman made his debut, even when he had to cover for Bru- ahem, Batman’s fool ass, James Gordon hadn’t even considered stoping in his effort to better the GCPD.

As he blankly stared at Batman, who looked as tired as Gordon felt, and the- not one, not two, but three- Robins following him, Commissioner Gordon seriously considered going down stairs and handing in his letter of resignation on the spot.

“Batman,” he greeted the Dark Knight, in the tone one might use when saying “Batman, what the fuck?!”

“Commissioner Gordon.” Batman said, sounding like he swallowed gravel and spent his nights crying instead of beating up Gotham’s criminal underbelly. “This is… the Robins. They’ve been… switching out until they were all ready.”

“Hey, Mister Gordon!” One of the Robins chirped. Commissioner Gordon pinched himself. Maybe he got micro-dosed with fear toxin? Commissioner Gordon nodded at the Robin who spoke.

“Commissioner Gordon!” The second one smiled at him.

“Commissioner Gordon.” The third one said, shoulders back.

“Have there always been… three of you?” Gordon asked, perplexed.

“You’ve actually all met us before, but don’t worry about it! Whatcha got for us this time?”

“Robin,” Batman growled.

“Yes?” “Yeah?!” “What.”

Commissioner Gordon chugged his coffee, to avoid laughing at Batman’s exasperated demeanor. Privately, he wished the coffee was a strong, black out worthy drink, and that the Robins gave Batman the stress Gordon experienced at Batman’s antics.

“It is important.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it, B.” Regular Robin, Gordon deemed, waved him off.

“But we’re currently not taking mental health advice from you, you walking therapist’s wet dream.” Serious Robin scoffed.

“So you can stick your opinion where the sun doesn’t shine!” Chirpy Robin said. Gordon had wanted to name him happy Robin, but he’s not getting the feeling of “happiness” from him.

“I will bench you.”

“Try me,” all of them defiantly said at the same time. Gordon smothered a laugh, but by the glare Batman sent him, he wasn’t too successful at hiding it.

Batman visibly gave up, shoulders slumping. “Commissioner Gordon, what do you have for…us.”

“There’s, heh, Penguin’s expansion.” Gordon looked away from Batman’s baleful look, mustache twitching with suppressed laughter.

“He’s expanding his weapons trading.” Regular Robin said. Serious Robin nodded, leaning back on his heels in thought.

“That’s a sign of an upcoming turf war.”

“Red Hood’s part of it! I saw Penguin’s guys lurking around his safe house!”

“Why do you know where his safe house is, Robin?” Gordon might acknowledge that they’re trained vigilantes, but at the end of the day, Robin is still a child that shouldn’t be near a crime lord, especially a highly dangerous and highly trained one like the Red Hood.

“Prank! Don’t worry about it!”

Gordon side-eyed the Bat. When Batman didn’t move to say anything, he shrugged and let it go. There’s only one person more protective of Robin than the rest of Gotham’s non-criminal city, and that’s Batman. Gordon caught the three of them exchanging glances- a whole conversation he and Batman were not privy to- and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to go home and never leave his bed again.

“You know where he’s staying, Robin?” Batman asked, when the silence got too long.

“Yep!” They chorused, even the serious one. Batman looked like he wanted to step back but held on like his pride was on the line.

“We can handle Penguin.” The serious one stated.

“You can get the goons, Batman!”

“I’ll rob them blind,” regular Robin grinned.

“Dibs on Penguin!”

“I’ll get the weapons.”

Batman sighed.

“Godspeed, Robins.” Gordon told the youngsters. To Batman, before he left, “Good luck.”

Batman grunted and disappeared. It sounded like a tearful thanks. Commissioner Gordon took a puff of his smoking pipe and decided to end the day today. He did not want to deal with the Robins and whatever terror they were about to unleash on Penguin.

——

“Penguuuuuiiiiiiinnnn, where aaaaare youuuu?!” Lionel sang, whacking a goon across the head with a pipe. “Come ooout!”

Archy, gleefully lugging away bags of tech and guns, jerked his head at the left hallway. He wound around the bodies of the unconscious goons Batman beat up. Lionel grinned at him in thanks and, bouncing along, went to beat up the Penguin.

“Robin, that is evidence.” Batman stopped Archy.

“It’s only evidence if it gets logged. Besides, I’m not going to do anything with them… much.”

Batman scowled, remembering the parenting books he devoured after adopting Jason. Be firm.

“You are not going to give them to Hood to help with his turf war.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

Tim, passing the arguing pair, snorted. “C’mon B, at least Hood’s guys will make sure to not use them to hurt kids. Who knows what the GCPD will do with this many guns.”

“And, not to mention, you let me get shot when we fought Dent.” Archy looked up at Batman balefully, rubbing his side. Batman grimaced… but stood aside.

Archy smirked.

“B, help me out with this,” Tim shouted, patting the top of Penguin’s heavy safe. Batman sighed and took out his laser cutter. Or, as Dick named it, Batlaser.

“Batman is supposed to be a symbol,” Batman rumbled.

“Yeah, of vengeance and justice. I’m getting justice for my stolen bat-tech, Robin L is getting vengeance for that one time Penguin kidnapped him, and Robin A is getting… stuff. Now c’mon, I can’t carry all this gold by myself. I gotta loot the goons too!”

“Do not loot the goons.”

“You’re right. If they had cool stuff, they probably wouldn’t be working for Penguin.” Tim brightened as he shuffled through the Penguin’s hoard of treasures. “Oo! Lookit! Tax evasion!”

“… You memorized his tax returns when Oracle hacked it, didn’t you.”

“Obviously. Keep up, old man.” Archy snarked as he walked back in to grab some more stuff. “Hood’s on the way with Nightwing and I want froyo, so chop chop!”

Batman sighed.

——

Penguin huddled against the crate, heart pumping a rhythm of abject terror.

His night had been going so well! He had drinks in one hand, a beauty in another, and the weapons trading game underneath his feet! The Cobblepots were going to rise once more!

Then, the slide of gravel, here and there.

Fear.

A low chuckle. The Bat?

Fear.

The squeal of a hinge.

Fear.

Bubbly laughter. Oh no. Robin.

Batman and Robin had dropped to the floor of the base, knocking his goons out left and right.

“Ge’ your fat nose outta my business, Bats!” He had went to wave his umbrella to send spikes at the pair, only to be stopped cold.

He turned around slowly and … Robin?

“Wha-?”

“Heya, Penguin! Nice seeing you again!”

“Agh!” Blinding pain erupted on his face, nose leaking blood. Penguin stumbled back as the psychotic Robin laughed.

“There’s two Robin! Run!” His goons shouted. “Boss, run!” Cobblepot stumbled away, mentally noting to give that goon a raise, once he could see more than red tinged blurs.

“Wrong. There’s three.” A cold voice sounded out, followed by the quick sounds of bodies dropping. Oswald Cobblepot ran, because he was not meant to deal with more than one Robin. The world was not meant to have more than one, so it definitely wasn’t ready for three.

The door creaked open. Oswald Cobblepot peeked his head out from behind the crate. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw an empty doorway. Maybe he forgot to close it when he ran in.

“Heya, Oswald!”

Penguin looked up, eyes darting from the blood stained pipe and straight into the grinning maw of a Robin.

“… Bollocks.”

#batman #tim drake #that one triplet au #Tim Drake is a triplet AU #triplet Tim Drake #Batman is getting guilt tripped #he knows but also he deserves it #i mean come on #Penguin: I have no fear #lionel existing as Robin: ;))) #Penguin: I have one fear #Archy just straight up sedating a bunch of goons with sleep darts #Batman and Robin Tim were the distractions

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You think you remember. Or at least you’ve convinced yourself that you do.

You go through the painstaking steps as the dark presence looms across the counter. The man walks along, just on the other side of the machines as you steam the milk. Toffee nut, yes, you’re pretty sure that was it.

You put it all together, step by step, hands shaking. Your lips move as you talk yourself through your work silently. You can do this. You still feel how the man scratched you through your shirt when he grabbed you, your skin fiery.

You give one last look to the foam and send a prayer up to whatever deity will hear it. You slowly move to the till and place the cup down. You wet your lips and clear your throat.

“Almond, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” you declare, voice quavering as you stare at the bristle across the man’s upper lip. “Mr. Hansen.”

He clucks and leans on the counter, hooking one foot behind the other. He wraps his hand around the cup and slides it closer to himself. He stares down into as you fidget. You glance around at the baked goods.

“And a cinnamon bun?” You suggest but before you can carry through on the offer, a splash of liquid washes over you, hot despite the layer of steamed milk.

“Oat milk,” he crushes the empty cup in his large hand and throws it at your face. You sputter and blink as the foam drips down your cheeks.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll make it again.”

“Fucking right, you will, sweet lips,” he growls and stands straight, crossing his arms.

You pull the bottom of your apron up and wipe your face. You bend to pick up the empty cup and turn away. Your eyes sting and you wiggle your tingling nose. It’s fine. You can do this.

Oat, half blond, half regular, toffee nut, cinnamon on top. The smell of espresso and syrup clings to you as you make the death march back to the till. You set the cup down without a word.

Mr. Hansen, Lloyd, the boss, whatever he is, considers you as he lifts the drink and examines the careful leafy art in the foam. He turns it and inhales the scent, some of the foam catching in his mustache. He takes a breath as if about to dive into water and has a taste. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he pulls the cup away from his mouth. He hums. Does he like it?

Splash.

Another searing dousing and you stand there with a gasp, shaking off the dredge of his displeasure.

“Mr. Hansen, I--”

“First thing’s first. Shut the fuck up. You talk too much,” he tosses the cup. Bonk, right off your forehead. “Second, I changed my mind. Get me a mocha. Extra whip.”

You nod and keep your head down. You pick up the cup and stand, nearly slipping in the puddle around your feet. You dispose of the empty cup and go to the coffee machine. You begin your new task, hands clumsy and trembling. You add the whipped cream and return to the till. You put the cup down and grab onto the counter to keep from sliding through the liquid at your soles.

He lifts it and you wince, bracing for another deluge. He repeats the same deliberate examination. You swallow tightly as he samples your work. This time he doesn’t make a noise. As he lowers the cup, you flinch and take a step back.

He cackles, “relax, cupcake.”

You stare at him grimly. You flick your lashes and blow out your nerves. You hide your shaking hands behind you.

“Now you know who the fuck I am,” he says, “clean yourself up and get back to work.”

He grabs a package of the cookies along the small shelf beside the till then turns on his heel and struts to the door. You watch after him, damp and dripping. As the door opens and closes, you turn to face the mess. You sigh and go to grab the mop; you can clean the floor but you can’t do much for yourself.

You work at soaking up the excess then spray cleaner on the floor and wipe with paper towel to prevent it from getting sticky. As you work at sopping up the errant droplets from the counter, the door behind you swings open. You glance over your shoulder as Bre sweeps through.

“Alright, your turn--” She stops short as you face her. “What happened?” Her face slackens with dread and shock, “what did you do?”

“It was Mr. Jansen—Hansen,” you correct yourself, “he came by and--”

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses.

“I... I didn’t have a choice. He wanted a drink and--”

“Fuck. Fuck! What did he say? What did he do?” She snaps.

You recoil at her accusatory tone, “he... he threw coffee in my face? He took some cookies? I don’t know? He just... said now I know who he is. I didn’t really understand--”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

You frown and cross your arms, “I’m sorry, Bre, I did my best--”

“Not good enough. You think it’s all fun and games. It’s not. That man is dangerous. Not just here, everywhere,” she shakes her head, “you’ll see. Out there, on your own. Give me your apron.”

“What?” You murmur.

“Get out. I’ll call Maurice and let him know it didn’t work out.”

“What? No, you can’t--”

“I am. Give me your apron. Now.”

You pout and sniffle. You reach back behind you and unlace the apron and lift it over your head. You hold it out to her, “it’s wet--”

“Just go.”

You hang your head and turn away. Your eyes begin to stream before you even get through the door. You grab your stuff from the backroom and give one last look around. You got fired. What are you going to do?

You fold your jacket over your arm and sling your bag from your shoulder. You let yourself out into the alley and head down to the street. You stop at the end and cover your face, sniveling behind your hands as you lean on the brick. You don’t want to go back home. You only just got there.

“Whatsa matter, sweet lips?” The low drawl is followed by a loud slurp, “bad day?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #the man #au #drabble #mob au #series

[m2m-author]

The Right Groom

I've been helping my best friend plan his wedding for the last few months. The theme was 'Anyone But You', and at first glance it seemed to be an easy theme, with our powers and all, but the wedding is a month away and we still can't decide the body.

He accepts my call, and a stranger answers.

"Hey, man, what's up?" he says, the voice uncharacteristically chipper for a voice that deep. I immediately recognized that as Nathan, my best friend. 

He spins and fixes his bowtie, the man grinning. "What do you think?" He gives the man's bulge a stroke.

"I don't know," I say. "He's cute, but I'm not sure he's groom material, you know what I mean?"

He sighs, "Yeah, I guess. I really don't know what to do! Steven already chose a body—before you ask, he won't tell me—and he smirked real hard, so I knew he chose someone good."

"Hey, hey, don't worry." Nathan, still in the stranger's body, was looking at me with brows furrowed and eyes shining. "You spot any more possible choices?"

He perks up a bit. "I actually do." He moves out of frame for a second. Even as his best friend, he still won't let me know the way he transforms. Geeze.

The phone moves rapidly for a moment until we reach his bathroom. Nathan has transformed into another stranger. He tries to smile, but only sighs in frustration. "What do you think?"

He flexes his arms and twirls the man's mustache. "I can see it. He's handsome. It's still up to you," I say.

"Come on," he whines, and it's amusing seeing this mature body acting like that. "My mind's been blank for months. I need help."

"Okay. Don't Steven like hairy guys? Maybe you can find someone like that?"

"Wait! Check this out." He starts taking off the suit, revealing the body's furry chest and belly. The body's cock is long, and Steven doesn't shy away from stroking it.

With one hand on the phone, he strokes his chest, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the body. He moans, the body's voice smooth. I grin at him, my hand reaching down to massage my bulge.

"Oh god," he moans, pinching his nipples. "I think I want to fuck him in this body. Or maybe he fucks me."

He lets his mouth hang open, staring at his reflection in appreciation. "Jesus Christ. I wonder who he is in real life."

"I can call you back," I say with a grin.

He smiles sheepishly, the body's pearly white teeth on full display. "Right. Sorry. So this one's definitely in the runner up, right?"

I nod. "Looks pretty good to me. His voice is hot too. You got another body?"

"Yes! Glad you reminded me. I saw this man in the mall a few days ago. I couldn't resist."

He sends me a photo of a bearded man taking a photograph in what seemed to be a bathroom.

"I didn't get to stay for too long," he continues, but the man's hairy, and he got a pretty thick dick. I'd love to ram that dick down Steven's throat." Nathan, still in the hairy man's body, sticks out his tongue and bobs his head up and down.

I laugh. "Maybe that could be your honeymoon body?"

He grins. "Just look at this thing! Even just looking at it makes me want to fuck somebody with it. There were too many people in the mall, but I did pee using that thing. Could barely hold it with his hands."

He sends me a dick pick, and sure enough, it's a monstrous 10-incher, as thick as a beer can.

"Goddamn," I say, breathless. I had a pretty modest cock, but even though I've spent my time in countless dudes with giant cocks, it always made me wonder how they're able to keep to keep that monster hidden.

He stared at the phone for a few more seconds, uncaring, as the hairy man's mouth started drooling. A faint thought of wanting to catch that saliva passes through my mind. He shakes out of his reverie and says, "Wait a minute. Have you found your body? The best man needs to have the best body too!"

"I'm glad you asked."

I have it easier than most people, and I can transform into anyone using only a photograph. Some people need body touch, possession, vials, spells or some other tactic, but I only need a photograph and I can transform into that person instantly. Or at least the person they were when the image was taken.

I move off-screen (mostly because I'm mildly annoyed at Nathan still keeping his tactic a secret) and glance at the photo on my table. The change is instantaneous, and I immediately feel lighter. My head rang for a moment, a drawback for a transformation as quick as that, but years of practice left me fully able to lessen that migraine.

I smile at him in this new body and say, "I saw him online, and I just couldn't resist."

Nathan rolls his eyes with a smile. "Lucky."

I take the time to explore the body once again, enjoying the strange sensations all over my body. One thing people don't mention enough when changing bodies is how literally every single thing changes: your senses, your visions, even the way you perceive things. This body, for example, has excellent health, but slightly blurry eyesight.

I open my shirt, reaching for his pec. His warm skin sends a ripple down my body, and I'm acutely aware of the growing bulge in this body. My other hand has reached his pants, massaging them, through the fabric making me moan harder.

Nathan doesn't say anything, continuing to change bodies as I explore every single inch of this body.

"Hmmm…" I whisper. Even his voice sends tingles down my spine. I massage his big thighs, the fabric of the pants feeling oddly satisfying against his skin. The thought of the real body seeing himself doing this sends a thrill. Sometimes I daydream about pretending to run into him with his own body, trying to seduce him using his own voice. I imagine using his hands to slowly massage his body, kissing the original man's lips using his own. I've already released his cock, stroking it in all its glory. It's veiny, pre-cum making it all shiny. I stroke the guy's cock faster, blood rushing in and making his dick even harder. It pulsates, my knees losing strength as I think of sucking the man's cock using his own mouth. I grip the side of the table as I gasp, closing my eyes as cum shoots up and onto my clothes and on my face.

"Finally got that out of your system?"

I'm still closing my eyes, breathing up and down, relishing the feeling of hot cum on my face. When I open my eyes, I gasp at Nathan.

"I think I found the one."

#male transformation #hairy male #suit #hairy bearded #hunk #hairy #selflove

[freedomfireflies]

if you please have time, could you please do a lil Mine something tonight? just something to hold me over😩 smut/possesive if possible!❤️

THIS IS SUPER SHORT AND LAST MINUTE, I'M SO SORRY BUT IT WAS KIND OF FUN SO THANK YOU FOR ASKING AND I'M SO SORRY IF I'M LATE 😭💞

“Harry…Harry, please—”

“No. Keep going.”

“Harry—”

“Keep fucking going or I will use my fucking hands and make you.”

You whimper, nose nuzzling into his neck in a futile attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes around the restaurant.

You don’t know how you got here. Or maybe you do, you just don’t like it. You hadn’t meant to upset him. Hadn’t meant to cause such a scene or aggravate the man. And you certainly didn’t do it on purpose.

Sometimes Harry gets like this. After a particularly hard and stressful week. He slips into his domspace and God rest the souls that bear witness to it. 

Tonight for example. Your poor waiter had made the mistake of smiling at you. Perhaps longer than he should. And yes, you’d smiled back. Because you’re polite, and you had no reason not to.

And normally, Harry doesn’t mind. Half the time, he doesn’t even notice. He’s only ever looking at you.

This time was different.

He caught the impish grin and had lost his last shred of patience. He’d threatened to go over and throw the poor lad out onto the streets. Knock his teeth down his throat and at the very least, make sure he was fucking fired.

You’d just barely managed to drag him back down into his seat before he could. Although he did send daggers toward the man to keep him from returning.

But at the cost of his violence, a new idea was born.

He’d taken hold of your hips and swung you over onto his thigh. In the middle of the crowded restaurant, with wandering eyes all around, he ripped your panties to the side and hissed, “Why don’t you show him who you really fucking belong to?”

Your pussy was dragged over his leg still covered by his nice dress slacks, instantly ruining them. Over and over and over he forced you to grind against his lap, unaffected by the wild stares and gasps of horror from everyone in the room.

You’d tried to calm him down, convince him that there wasn’t anything for him to be upset about.

But he'd merely shot you a stern look of warning and you instantly began to thrust yourself against his thigh.

And one orgasm wasn’t enough. Because it never is, and he insisted you continue until he felt you were through.

So, you did.

Now, soft whimpers are lost beneath the gentle jazz music around the room. Much louder since the restaurant has grown eerily quiet.

Everyone is watching. Nobody is moving. The poor waiter is cowering in the corner. 

This is Harry’s game. And they all know it.

“Daddy,” you mewl, arms snaking around his neck as the pleasure begins to unfurl. You hadn’t expected to be so enamored by this little display, but the wet patch on his trousers proves otherwise. “Shit…please—”

“Keep going,” he growls, large hands curled around the armrest of his chair. Refusing to touch you unless it’s as punishment. “Now, mama.”

You do. Roll your cunt over his leg quickly, gasping and crying out as your over abused clit is stimulated by the rough fabric on his lap.

“Harry,” you try again, but he merely presses his cheek to yours and practically bares his teeth.

“Shut up.” It’s the same tone of voice he only reserves for the dangerous life he lives. Everyday criminals before he executes them. Never for you. “Dirty little attention whores don’t get to make demands, do they?”

Your head shakes fervently as you continue your rhythm, closer to your second orgasm than ever before. The coarse hairs of his mustache dragging across your cheek until you shiver.

“No,” he agrees coldly before his eyes drift to the waiter a few feet away. “Looks like your boyfriend misses you.”

You sniffle, grabbing onto him tighter. “Stop. S’not my boyfriend, Daddy, you know it. You’re being mean—”

“Mean?” He nearly barks the word until you jump. “You think I’m fucking mean, do you? When you were such a goddamn slut, you had to give it up for the first man that walked up to our table, hm?”

And the insults and insinuations shouldn’t rile you up the way they do, but you’re being thrown into the endlessly abyss of pleasure before you can fight it. Crying out as you soak his thigh once again and cling onto him for dear life. 

The restaurant stills. A certain dangerous calm settling over the patrons and staff as everyone looks to Harry for his next move.

It takes him quite a while to finally speak, chest heaving beneath you as he struggles to contain his rage. 

You imagine he’s going to demand you go again, but you press your lips to his ear before he can and whimper, “Please, Daddy. Wanna go home. Don’t want them to watch me anymore. Don’t want them to see me. Just want you. Only you, Daddy, please.”

You know it’s the only thing that might reach him when he’s in this headspace. The only thing that can get him out of this room and into the car so you can take him home.

And bring him back.

You release the deepest exhale when he finally nods once and wraps an arm around your back to help you off his lap.

But the minute he stands, he’s grabbing onto the steak knife and slamming it down into the table, puncturing the wood beneath as he stares at the man across the room.

“You fucking look at her again,” he seethes, “and this goes in your fucking heart.”

With that, Harry grabs your hand, and leads you out of the restaurant.

Leaving the scared-shitless waiter behind.

@acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #smut #harry styles one shot #mine harry #harry and sugar

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 29th

Day 29: Genital Pumping, Coercion/Blackmail, Pregnancy

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of abortions, vaginal sex, pregnancy kink, vague possessiveness

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s so hard not to squirm. Not to move as his hands slide over your stomach. Hand curved to the heavy roundness, groaning so sexily in your ear while his thick cock pulses inside your incredibly sensitive walls. 

“Perfecto, cariño.” He moans, his raspy words shoot straight through you and making you clench around him even more, which just makes it even better for both of you as you are sat on his cock, heavy with his baby. “So sexy I might just keep you looking like this. Would you like that?” One hand stays on the swell of your stomach and the other slides up to gently cup a heavier than usual breast. He enjoys the way your tits have gotten bigger. He loves you like this. 

That’s probably the biggest shock of your life. Javier Peña was never supposed to be permanent. You knew that the first time you took him to bed. The ex-DEA agent was not built for long term commitments, or so you had thought. 

You had plenty of fun, letting him fuck you any and ever chance he got. The sex is amazing, if it had been slightly more demanding and rough than you were used to, you quickly go over that because of the mind blowing orgasms that you were experiencing. 

The fun had come to a screeching halt when you had missed that period, six months into the thing you had going on. Javier would come over, sometimes eat with you - sometimes watch a movie - fuck the life out of you and often would stay the night, but he would never really be there the next morning. 

Dreading every last second of that confrontation before you had it, you had expected him to want to discuss other options. To want you to get rid of it. You still don’t know what you were feeling back then beyond shock and fear. 

So it had surprised you when Javier had stepped up. When he had sat for a moment, staring at the little test you had taken, along with the six others and the paper from the doctor confirming that you were expected, and then just nodding and saying “okay, you’re having my baby.” 

That had been it in his mind. He hadn’t left after that day. He hadn’t resented you, he had turned into a practical sweetheart. Or maybe he had always been one, buried under the complicated layers that made him what he was. 

The ring on his finger, signifying to the world that Javier Peña was a married man, is warm on your skin. His own claim on you is a surprisingly beautiful wedding set that had been his mother’s and he had been more than a little emotional when he had slid it on your fingers. You aren’t wearing them right now because your fingers are swollen. Just like everything else during this pregnancy. 

“You like that?” His groan is so warm, the tickle of his mustache whispers across your stomach as he slowly rocks his hips up underneath you. Taking great care not to jostle you and still it feels like he’s so fucking deep that you can feel him in your throat. “Letting me keep you knocked up? Full of my little bebés? I would fucking love that.” He squeezes your breast gently, rubbing it as he ghosts kisses over your skin and makes your entire body hum in pleasure. 

“Yes, baby.” You whimper, always loving the fact that dirty talk has been a progression of your relationship with Javi. Like finding the domestic things he does utterly charming, that element to your sex life has just made it remind you that this is permanent. “Love that. Keep me full.” 

“Fuck.” His cock twitches inside you and you moan, the head pushing against that spot inside you that just makes everything burst with pleasure inside and he makes himself twitch again. “I would. Pop needs ranch hands. Dozen little kids running running around, driving us crazy.” He almost sounds wistful, like he’s really planning out your future. Your head tilts back and you turn to press a kiss to his jaw. “Yes, fuck, yes Javier.” You moan. “Want that. Love you.” 

“I love you too, cariño.” He grunts, immediately kissing you back and deepening the kiss while his slow pace steadily starts to build. Wanting to fuck you a little faster than he had been and hoping that you will cum. 

His fingers eventually leave your stomach, almost reluctantly so he can rub your clit. Obviously not wanting to let go of your breast to use that hand. It’s so funny how often his hand is on your stomach. Or how much he talks to the baby. You’ve even woken up to hearing him talking to them. Still unsure of what the sex is because you want to be surprised. 

Javier loves you pregnant. The larger your stomach got, the sexier he found you. It was almost a good thing that your own sex drive had increased, because as big of a horn dog as he was before, he was almost doubly so now. It goes such a long way in keeping you from being self conscious about the changes to your body, the way he worships you. 

“You need to cum for me.” He breathes, pulling away from your mouth with a sigh and his fingers are still pressing slow, shattering circles to your sensitive clit. Every pass makes your walls lock down around his cock and you get closer to giving him that orgasm he wants out of you. “Cumming is good to start your labor.” 

You’re due. You’re actually past due by a day and the doctor had suggested sex to help things along. It had almost made you giggle, Javi huffing beside you when you admit that it probably wouldn’t help considering all the sex you normally have. 

“Gonna cum.” You pant quietly, leaning back against him and closing your eyes. Feeling your body building up to that wonderful peak. His skilled hands and his cock making your entire body ache in the sweetest way possible. 

“Do it.” He orders, biting down on your ear and you know that he is close. He’s always biting when he’s about to cum himself. 

It doesn’t take long, not with him scrubbing so perfectly inside you and your sensitivity  already so high. Another few swipes of his fingers, another few rocks of his hips and you are cumming for him, round belly jostling as you shake on his lap. 

It’s almost endearing how quickly Javi cums after you do. Pushing deep and letting you hear your name fall from his lips, choked out as he fills you with his warmth. Like he had just been waiting for you to cum before he did. Rocking you both through your pleasure until you are body sweaty and breathless, his softening cock still nestled inside your cunt, twitching when your walls spasm in an aftershock. 

His chuckle is warm, making you smile lazily as you lean back against him. “Never say I don’t love you pregnant, cariño.” He murmurs softly, his hand back on your stomach and caressing it lovingly again and huffing in amusement when the baby kicks it. 

No, you can never say that. Javier Peña has been a surprisingly delight, loving you being pregnant. 

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Breeding season | Best boys (Steve, Billy, Eddie) x FEM!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's have always been competitive, what happens when you want to have a baby and they all want to contribute? Breeding season is open!

Cw: Lots of cum, the boys are crazy for reader, competition, lots of swearing, lots of smut, heavy breeding kink, big dicks, belly bulges, cum inflation, overall filth so, enjoy!

"No! I can do it better!"

"Dude you can't even hold your breath for one minute!"

"Says who?!"

"Me that I had to pull your ass out of the pool last summer!"

The bickering continues as you try and zone out of it, your boyfriends always had something to fight about, snapping at each other and then making out furiously with each other

You have been dating Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson since 1985, the three boys ganged up on you one summer and since then they have been up your ass (literally)

It's fall in Hawkins of 1992, your favorite season of the year, perfect for taking walks around town with the constant bickering of your boys, that are no longer boys but grown ass men that fight like they're still in highschool

You're walking at the front of them three, wearing a sweater as the cold wind blows through you, you sigh when you see a couple with their baby, wrapped in a bundle as they sit at the kid's park, happily taking care of their first born that plays in the games, you stop to stare at them, dreamily imagining the woman as yourself and your boyfriends

"Y/n? Y/n you okay?" You hear Steve talk to you as he places his hands on your shoulders "Baby..."

"I-I-" you begin, the other two men stopping their chatting "I want to have a baby" you finally say, making them three perk up

Their eyes lock on what you're seeing and their hearts melt, something awakening in them

"You sure about it?" Billy asks you, you turn to look at them

They have changed with the years, Billy has a dad bod, he still works out but has kept a belly and has a scruff on his chin and a mustache, his mullet is still here, but a little bit shorter, Steve remains with his perfect coifed hair, but a beard is evident in his face, he has the same complexion as always and Eddie, he has more tattoos, his hair is still long but he now ties it up, and he has the biggest beard of them all.

You have aged too, beautifully as they say, and you have been thinking about it for a long time, not just right now, you want a family and you want it with them and now, you switched your birth control for vitamins some months ago and now you're ready to have the talk

"Yes, I'm ready and I want a baby, from one of you, all of you" you say

The idea of three babies, one for each man makes you feel so full and happy

You imagined them all as girls, because believe me, they're all a girl dad

One cute blonde girl, with ocean eyes, you would name her Maysie, one with straight brown hair and freckles, that would be Alice, and an unruly head of curls and doe eyes would be Amelia

They were looking at you like they wanted to eat you alive, they wanted this and they wanted to see you pregnant, so, another competition started

~•~

"No! No! No! You do it like this okay?!"

"Get out of the way Munson, I can do it better!"

"Your mom can do it better!-sorry sweetheart"

You rolled your eyes at their antics, tired of them not pleasing you so you sat up, butt naked in front of them in the bed

"Okay enough!" They all look at you "Billy, you fuck Eddie, Steve come here and fuck me already!"

They scrambled to do as they're told, moans filling the room as Billy starts to fucks into Eddie's tight ass

"Fuck! You're so tight" he moans as he starts to set a brutal pace

Eddie is just a moaning mess, meanwhile Steve is buried in your pussy, hips snapping against your's as his huge cock fills you up

"Fuck baby, you're so wet for me" he moans, holding your legs up in a mating press, he wanted to get you pregnant probably the most

"Mmmm Steve, gonna cum baby" you moan at him, sloppily making out as he whines into your mouth from how you clench around him

"Gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck!" He whined as he stills inside you, groaning loudly

You're snapped out of your thoughts by Eddie's protests of wanting to cum

"No, it's my turn to fuck our girl, can't waste my cum in you" Billy said

Turning you on your belly he angles his dick and fills you up, your eyes roll back and you feel him bulge in your belly, he's probably the biggest one of them three, he fucks into you brutally, just as he was fucking Eddie a while ago

Meanwhile Eddie and Steve make out as they masturbate each other, whining into each other's mouths

"Mmmm gonna fill you up baby, fuck I'm so close"

The mix of your cum and Steve's makes it easier for him to fuck into you, still tight around his cock nonetheless

"Fuck baby, you're milking me so good~" he moans

You feel your climax approaching, being overstimulated already, you cum hard around his cock, queening him like a viper, delicious

"Fuuuuck" he groans filling you with his cum

"Get your hands off me Harrington!" You hear Eddie whining behind you

Soon his calloused hands grab you, laying you on your side as he thrusts into you next to your twitching body

His dick was big too, actually all of them are, you were so lucky you got three boys with huge dicks all for you

"Fuck baby, so wet, your pussy is such a mess" he said in your ear

Holding your leg up while he thrusts into you, making out with him while the other two clean each other up

With a loud moan into Eddie's mouth you came again, he thrusted into you so hard he moved you up the bed, and he came into you

"It will definitely take"

~•~

Some months later, you started to show pregnancy signs, vomits, nausea and some cravings

So you got a test done and...

"It's positive!"

The three men cheered, they didn't care who the father was, they were happy they were having a baby!

The pregnancy was beautiful, your boys took great care of you, your belly grew bigger each month and when you went to know what gender your baby was you were so happy it was a girl!

When said baby was born, you could definitely tell whose baby it was

"Welcome to the world Amelia" you said to the head of curls wrapped in a bundle, cooing back at you

Amelia Munson grew slowly, she was just like her dad, she learnt how to crawl really late, she didn't know how to sit properly without falling to her side and giggling, she loved loud noises so when her dad played guitar she would yell and coo at him, finally when she was 1 year old, you were pregnant again

With Amy being all chaotic and you being pregnant as fuck, Eddie took it in him to take care of his daughter and you, while the other two worked and provided to the house

When your second girl was born, she had a head of brown hair and freckles, Steve's daughter, Alice Harrington was beautiful, just like you predicted it

"Amy! Don't poke your sister's eyes!" You said at the girl who was curious about her sister in her cradle

Amy was growing bigger with time, being more chaotic and unruly, truly like a Munson, meanwhile Alice was calm and collected, they were two and 1 year old now

Your girls were so beautiful, and they seemed to get along greatly, now you just needed a final baby, a Hargrove baby

And said baby came soon enough

The curly blonde baby joined the family some months later, she was just as beautiful, Maysie Hargrove was a copy of her dad

One year later...

With your family now all big and beautiful you were more than happy, complete

You sighed happily as you watched Steve and Eddie play with their girls while Billy carried his girl, too afraid of letting her explore

You were so happy with the family you've built, complete...

Breeding season did catch...

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #boyfriend eddie munson #eddie munson x chubby reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove hc

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Despite his best efforts, Bradley hadn't stopped thinking about you since Monday. When Bob decided they needed a Team Mom, he sees an opportunity he can't pass up. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

When Bradley arrived on base Tuesday morning, he saw Bob right away.

"I can't thank you enough, Rooster. Piper had so much fun yesterday, and I really think this is going to be good for her. The other kids seemed excited too."

Bradley zipped up his flight suit and grabbed his helmet. "The kids were easier to instruct than I expected. They made it fun." His mind automatically pictured Everett. And Everett's mom. 

"So you'll be back for practice on Thursday?" Bob asked, reaching for his own helmet.

Bradley scoffed. "You think I'm going to bail on the Tiny Eagles? No way. We have a championship to win, and I plan on being named coach of the year."

Bob laughed. "That's the spirit."

Nat strolled over, sipping coffee inside the hangar even though you weren't supposed to. "How was pee wee football?" she asked with a smirk.

"We've been over this before, Phoenix," Bob said with a sigh. "It's tee ball."

"She's just fucking with you," Bradley said, looking from side to side before he stole Nat's coffee and took a big sip.

She groaned in response. "Just finish it," she told him. "So, tee ball? How was that?"

"Fun!" Bob exclaimed. "Piper loved it. All the kids were great. And all the moms came up at the end of practice to introduce themselves and tell us we did a great job."

Nat burst out laughing as Bradley finished her coffee. "Yeah... I'll bet they did! They would probably love to show you two even more gratitude."

Bob looked confused, but Bradley just smiled against the coffee cup. "Moms are not my type. I told you that already, Nat." But he felt like such a liar. He could picture you so clearly in his mind, and he could remember how your voice sounded. Really, he was more excited about practice on Thursday than he should be, simply because you and Everett were going to be there. 

Maybe he would wear a Phillies hat to match with Everett.

"Rooster... every woman is your type," Nat said, patting him on the shoulder as she grabbed her helmet and headed for her Super Hornet. 

--------------------

Work was insanely busy, and Thursday arrived before you knew it. You were still answering client emails when Frank knocked on your door at lunchtime. 

"Come in!" you called, and thankfully he brought you a sandwich. You jumped up at the prospect of actually having something to eat, but Frank wrapped you in his arms before you could take a bite.

"I've missed you all week. You work too hard," he whispered, placing a soft kiss next to your ear. "Wanna come over this weekend?"

You should say yes, especially since Everett was going to have a sleepover at your sister's house. Plus, this would be your last free Saturday for a while, since tee ball games would be starting up.

"I'll have to let you know," you told him as his lips connected with yours. 

But you were thinking about how it might feel to kiss Coach Bradley with his mustache.

Where had that thought come from? You let out a startled gasp, and Frank slipped his tongue between your lips. 

Bradley would definitely be a better kisser than this.

"Frank," you managed to say. "I'm starving, and I have so much work to do."

He sighed and squeezed your waist through your suit. "Try to come over this weekend, okay baby?"

You just nodded and unwrapped the sandwich as he left. Only four more hours until tee ball practice. You couldn't believe you were as ridiculous as the other moms, but here you were, thinking about your kid's coach while you ate lunch. 

But it didn't stop there. After you picked Everett up at school, he rambled on about tee ball and his coaches for the entire drive to the ballfield. And you started thinking about Bradley again.

"Can we go see the Phillies play again this year?" Everett asked as you pulled into the parking lot. 

"You know, Ev, it was supposed to be a surprise. They play the Padres on a Sunday afternoon, and I've been planning on getting us tickets."

After hesitating for a beat, you parked next to the Bronco again, which you were smart enough to know was a really dumb thing to do.

"Yes! Can we take Coach Bradley with us too?"

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. "Sweetie, he's your coach during tee ball hours. I don't think he's going to have time to go to a baseball game with us." 

Everett jumped out of the car and looked up at you as you took his hand. "But he likes the Phillies. I think he might want to go."

Once again you changed into your sneakers while you walked across the grass. You didn't want to get your son's hopes up, and you couldn't help but think that he wouldn't be so starved for attention if Danny came around more often. Your ex was legitimately the worst. 

"We can talk about it later, okay?"

You almost tripped over your own feet when you looked up and saw Bradley. He was talking to one of the overzealous moms, and he had his arms crossed over his chest, nodding along with whatever was being said. His biceps looked good, but you also immediately noticed the Phillies hat on his head. 

Bradley's eyes shifted to the side as you approached the bleachers, and he kind of smirked at you. He didn't even seem to notice when the other mom placed her hand on his forearm. But you did. You wished it was you touching him instead. 

"Mommy, I need my bag," Everett said, and you shifted your attention to your son. You helped him get his cleats on, and then you waited for the coaches to blow the whistle to start practice. 

"Can I have everyone's attention for a minute?"

You looked up to see Bob heading toward the bleachers where all of the parents were sitting. So you took the spot next to Everett on the bottom row, and Bradley shifted to stand closer to your end. 

"I just wanted to reiterate how excited we are to coach your kids this season," Bob said. "Coach Bradley and I have worked out most of the scheduling and whatnot, but we do need to have a Team Mom or Team Dad to help us with some tasks. Things like bringing extra snacks and drinks, and being in charge of sending out texts if the weather is bad. Also they would need to be available to help us with anything else that might come up."

You let your gaze shift from Bob to Bradley, and he was already looking at you. He nodded once as his lips quirked up into a smile. 

"Does anyone want to volunteer?" Bob asked. Almost every mom around you raised her hand without hesitation. 

Bradley didn't look away from you, and it was making you feel flushed. He slowly, purposefully put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow as if to say c'mon, raise your hand.

You didn't have time to be the Team Mom. You didn't even really want to be the damn Team Mom. It was something extra that you really didn't need to do. 

But... you felt your hand slip up into the air as if gravity no longer had any hold over it. Bradley's smile grew as you sat in front of him like a little girl hoping he would call on you.

Just as Bob was about to choose a different parent, Bradley nudged him with his elbow to stop him.

"Right here," Bradley announced, nodding and gesturing to you. "She's our Team Mom." You slowly lowered your hand, and you felt a little giddy at being selected.

Bob looked a little confused with the abrupt decision, but he just smiled at you and said, "Sounds good. Thanks for volunteering. Now let's get started with our practice."

He blew his whistle, and Everett launched off the bench. You could hear him tell Bradley, "You wore a Phillies hat! Just like me!"

Bradley laughed and said, "Sure did, kiddo. Thought we could match." He glanced at you one more time before he led the kids out onto the field.

-----------------------------

Bradley shouldn't feel so proud of himself right now. But he did anyway. He didn't even know what he was playing at with you. But as soon as Bob told him they needed a team parent, he wanted it to be you. 

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath as he set the ball on the tee for Henry to try to hit. You were probably married. Bradley probably just made himself look like an ass. But you raised your hand anyway when he tried to silently encourage you to.

"Nice hit, Henry!" Bob said, and Bradley clapped as the kid ran for first base. 

Bradley set the ball up again, this time for Everett. 

"You ready?" Bradley asked, earning him a big smile. "Just keep your swing nice and steady."

He watched Everett absolutely nail the ball and hit it right past Bob. He looked up at Bradley in surprise.

"Run, Ev! Run to first base!"

Bradley watched him take off like a shot and run past Bob, only stopping once he had stomped on the base.

When Bradley glanced over to where you were sitting, the smile on your face had him fumbling to get the ball back on the tee. You waved your fingers toward where Everett was jumping up and down, and then you looked at Bradley and bit your lip. Then you waved your fingers at him too before ducking your head.

He forced his focus back to the next batter who also hit it hard enough to take a base.

"These kids are actually good," Bradley told Bob as he helped guide Amber to first base while Bob pointed Everett to second. "But we need to practice running bases next week."

"Can't wait to play the Tiny Hawks next weekend," Bob said. "The Eagles are looking good."

Bradley and Bob high fived as the kids all gathered around them in the infield at the end of practice. "Great practice, Tiny Eagles," Bradley told them. "Now get some good rest this weekend, and we will see you on Monday for our next practice!"

The kids all started to run toward the bleachers, and the coaches followed them at a more leisurely pace. "Damn," Bradley muttered when he looked toward the parking lot.

When Bob gave him a concerned look, Bradley shook his head and said, "Everett's hot mom parked by me again. I've actually been thinking about her since Monday."

Bob's mouth dropped open. "You mean the Team Mom?"

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, nearing the bleachers and watching you switch Everett's cleats for sneakers.

"You have a crush on our Team Mom?" Bob asked a little too loudly for Bradley's liking. "That's why you picked her? Is that a good idea?"

Bradley just shrugged and took a deep breath. "Too late now, yeah?"

--------------------------

You felt a tingle wash down your spine and goosebumps break out on your skin. You glanced to your left, and sure enough, the coaches were standing right there. Bob was looking at you, and Bradley was running one hand over his face and readjusting his Phillies cap. 

Maybe you had imagined it. But you could still remember how he was looking at you, goading you, urging you wordlessly to raise your hand earlier. 

Because he had a crush on the Team Mom? On you? There was no way.

But as you stood, Bradley headed in your direction. He smelled good again, and he was so handsome. And his voice was so deep. You really wished your other two senses had experience with him as well. 

"Team Mom," he said with a smile. "Can Bob and I get your phone number for future correspondence and incidentals?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, and when he handed you his phone, you added your name and number for him.

"Thanks again for volunteering," he said with a smirk.

You didn't know what to say, and you could feel your face growing warm as your nose scrunched up in embarrassment. "No problem," you managed, but instead of leaving, he inched closer, and his smile grew.

"I hope you don't feel like I pressured you." 

You just shook your head, mesmerized by the low register of his voice. "No. I'm happy to do it."

Everett suddenly popped up next to you, standing on the bleachers. "Mommy, check to see if Coach Bradley wants to come with us to see the Phillies this year. Please?" 

You turned back toward Bradley, about to tell him that Everett was just being overzealous, but Bradley was grinning at Everett and adjusting the bill of his cap.

"I don't know if your dad would like that, kiddo," Bradley said, examining your face carefully.

But then Everett's face really lit up. "He wouldn't care! He doesn't even live with us anymore."

You scrunched your nose again in embarrassment. Nothing like having your kid basically announce to a hot guy that your ex husband ditched you.

But Bradley's lips curved into a smirk. "How about your mom and I talk about it, kiddo?" he asked, and Everett gave him a high five. "Now that I have your number?" 

You just nodded as you started to shove everything you brought into the gear bag.

-------------------------

You had scrunched your nose up again, just like a kitten, and Bradley felt the urge to reach out and touch you. He'd love to take you and Ev to a baseball game. He thought he might even like to hang out with you one on one, now that he knew Everett's dad didn't live with you any longer. But now he was wondering if you were single or seeing someone else.

Bradley watched you hurriedly packing up Everett's gear while he ran off to say bye to Bob. But Bradley didn't walk away, instead he texted you so you would have his contact information as well. 

When you checked your phone, you looked up at him again and laughed. "Your name is Bradley Bradshaw? Brad Brad?"

He groaned and pretended to be annoyed, but he really wasn't. "My parents probably thought they were hilarious."

Your laughter had him grinning again. "It's not a bad name! I'm sorry I laughed." But you were still laughing.

"You're not sorry," he said with a playful glare. 

When you scrunched your nose again and ducked away from him, you said, "No, I'm not."

Then Everett streaked back over and asked Bradley to walk to the parking lot with the two of you, and Bradley was helpless to say no.

"You have fun again today?" Bradley asked him as he bounced around, full of energy.

"Yes! I even hit the ball!"

"Yeah, you hit it hard. You'll be a power hitter when you make it to the major league. We just need to work on your fielding."

You were smiling but looking straight ahead at your car.

"What position do you like to play?" Everett asked, eyes wide as he looked up at Bradley.

"Usually shortstop. Sometimes second base."

"Did you used to play for the Padres or something?" Everett asked, completely in awe.

Bradley just laughed. "No, kiddo. I played in college. Then I joined the Navy, because I definitely was not good enough to play for the Padres."

"You're in the Navy?" you asked him as Bradley opened Everett's door and took the gear bag from your shoulder. Even touching your body through your suit coat was enough to require Bradley to take an extra breath before answering you.

"Yeah. So is Bob. We're both aviators."

"Wow," you whispered. "Impressive."

"Mommy! I'm hungry!" Everett called from the backseat as Bradley placed the bag on the floor.

"Me too, Ev. I'll get dinner ready as soon as we get home," you promised him, and Bradley could tell you were a good mom. You kind of reminded him of Carole Bradshaw, if he was being honest.

"Be good, and listen to your mom," Bradley told Everett as he closed the back door and then opened yours. "See you on Monday."

"See you then," you replied softly, slipping into your seat before Bradley gently closed your door.

He waved at Everett who was reaching his arm out the window as you pulled away, and then he climbed into the Bronco and headed to the Hard Deck.

Bob was already there when Bradley arrived, and Nat was on them right away. "You two look adorable in your matching Tiny Eagles jerseys."

"Thanks, Nat. I feel adorable. Do you feel adorable, Bob?"

Bob just blushed and walked away with his cup of peanuts. 

"So how are the moms treating you?" Nat asked as they both waited for drinks at the bar.

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Just fine."

"Are you hooking up with one of them yet?" she asked casually. 

"What the fuck, Nat? No! I'm there to coach the kids!"

"Chill, Rooster! It's so easy to get you riled up when you're trying to hide something! Bob said you have a crush on one of the moms."

He just shook his head and thanked Jimmy for his beer. "I don't. She's just cute is all. Not my type. Never gonna be my type," he promised, heading toward the pool table. And as if he was trying to make his point to Nat, he chatted up the first woman who approached him and left with her number. He wasn't going to call her, but Nat didn't need to know that. 

He didn't even save the number in his phone, because yours was already in there. 

---------------------

In an effort to get that mustache and those biceps out of your mind, you called Frank on Saturday afternoon and agreed to head over to his place. 

He never cooks in his condo kitchen, and he hates when anything is messy, so you're not sure if you want to stay over or not. But you pack a bag just in case. 

When you get there, he has Thai takeout waiting along with a bottle of prosecco. "I'm glad you decided to come over," Frank whispered, running his hand up along your leggings while you tried to eat. 

"Yeah," you agreed halfheartedly. "Me too."

How had your life been reduced to this? Sleeping with a man you didn't have feelings for after ending a marriage to a man who never loved you? You wouldn't allow yourself to dwell on it for too long. 

"Let's head to the bedroom," he told you, snatching you out of your seat as soon as you finished your last bite of food.

As Frank ran his hands along your body and undressed you, it was easy enough to close your eyes and let your mind drift a little bit. Then his hands felt good, running up your sides and removing your shirt. It felt nice when he removed your bra and squeezed your breasts. It was even lovely when he pushed you down onto his bed and pressed you into the mattress with his weight. But when he started fucking you, it was just so mediocre. He somehow lasted too long, and you knew that you'd never be able to get off with him tonight. 

"You're so sexy, baby. Am I making you feel good?" Frank asked you softly.

You let your disappointment wash over you, but Frank didn't seem to notice the sad little gasps you made as he came before withdrawing himself and removing the condom. 

You checked your phone as you got dressed, and you nearly dropped it on the floor. You had a text from Bradley. A screenshot of ticket options for the Phillies vs Padres game the following month.

Bradley Bradshaw: Do you think Ev would prefer to sit behind home plate or in the outfield?

Now your heart was beating faster. Now you felt a little silly inside. Now you could imagine getting yourself worked up for a healthy orgasm.

"Everything okay? You keep looking at your phone," Frank said as he pulled his underwear back on. 

"Actually...." you started, and the lie was out of your mouth before you could stop it. "It's my sister. I need to go pick up Everett. But thanks for dinner."

Frank kissed you softly, holding your body against his before you broke away with a quick goodnight. You practically ran across the parking lot and jumped into your car with a smile on your face. Then you responded to the text.

Everett is going to think any seat is the best seat.

Bradley responded almost immediately, which shocked you since it was eight o'clock on Saturday night. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Well then why don't you tell me where you'd like to sit.

You pictured yourself sitting in his lap, and you felt very warm. When you started your car, you turned on the air conditioner as you drove away. 

His lap. 

You could picture yourself there so easily, like you'd already spent time snuggled up with him.

What was wrong with you?! You barely knew this man! 

It only took you five minutes to get to your house, and as soon as you walked in, your hand was sliding down inside the front of your leggings and into your underwear. You eased yourself down onto your couch as you touched yourself exactly how Frank never seemed to be able to. 

You stroked your clit just right with your middle finger, and then you came so quickly, it surprised you. 

When you caught your breath, you located your phone and responded.

Your call, Coach. What view do you like the best?

------------------------

Bradley was sitting at his kitchen island, considering all the filthy things he wanted to send back to you.

You were definitely flirting with him now, right? You had to be single, right?

He quickly typed out his response and hit send before he could change his mind.

Any seat where I can see you.

---------------------------

I am thrilled by how much love you all had for the first part of this story! I hope you keep on loving Coach Bradley! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 3

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