#god the mustaches were just It back then

[the-californicationist]

he gives great gifts

Price/Reader - TW: remote vibrator, minor female ejaculation

“Hey, love, I’m home,” Price’s voice called out to you, summoning you to the front door. 

He was carrying all of your packages and mail, along with his rucksack, home for the weekend. You took the mail, helping him leave the worries of the day at the door to join you in the kitchen. You were making his favorite, chicken spaghetti, and you just started the oven. 

Your captain sat at the island counter, opening up the mail and sorting out the bills. He kissed you as you walked past him, his mustache tickling your lip and cheek

“Mm,” he moaned, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you smiled, flirting with him, “Missed you, though. How was yours? Any news from Laswell?”

“No, not yet. Still waiting on the intel. Oh, hey, it came!” He lit up, tearing into a small package with his knife.

“What’s that?” You asked over your shoulder, bending to put the chicken in the oven. 

“Bought you an early birthday present. Come see,” he was holding a black box, lifting the lid to reveal the prize inside. 

“John, I thought we said no gifts? What did you… oh, my God. Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” he smiled like he had just won a medal, prideful and obviously chuffed, “...and it has a remote.”

You were staring at a lime green, silicone dildo. It was shaped like a curved smile, one large end for insertion and the other smaller end to be nestled on top of your clit. 

“A remote?” You asked, taking out the toy and feeling its smoothness in your hands. It was lightweight, but very solid. It seemed expensive, well-crafted, and like John had spent way too much money on you, as usual.

It buzzed in your hands, coming alive with a low rumble. It shocked you, and you almost dropped it.

“Oh, my God!” You laughed, “What was that?”

He held up a matching lime green remote. It was small, like a car fob, and it had a few different buttons to choose from. Price’s face was full of mischief,

“Put it in, love.”

“I’m making dinner,” you protested, but you didn’t put it down. 

“So?” He whispered darkly, dragging your hips toward him, kissing you deeply, licking your mouth and leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

You giggled, smiling sweetly. He made it so easy to give in to him. You sighed,

“Okay, okay. Help me put it in, honey.”

Price put the remote down and slid your pants down to your thighs, pulling your panties down with them. He took the toy from you and opened the little packet of lube that came in the pouch, coating the thick end. He hesitated, slipping his own finger into you first, finding you a little too wet and already turned on. 

He made a face, full of delighted surprise, teasing you,

“Someone’s excited, hm?”

Impatient, he slid the toy into you gently, fitting it at your entrance and pressing it up into you. He pulled it back out again and used it to fuck you for a few strokes, making you moan quietly, leaning forward to steady yourself on his huge forearm. 

“Mm,” he groaned, “You like that, love?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

He settled it all the way in and made sure the front was in the right place before replacing your panties and your leggings back up around your waist. You kissed him again, and went back into the kitchen to finish up with dinner. 

The excitement of knowing he could control your pleasure was building inside of you. You didn’t see the remote on the countertop, and he was busy recycling the boxes, so you thought you were safe. You leaned down again to check the chicken, and then you almost came out of your skin as the toy came alive inside of you. 

Price was unbothered, pouring a few fingers of whisky into his glass, innocently. He saw you looking at him and smiled knowingly, taking a long swig of the amber liquid into his mouth. You glared, but you needed to put the pasta on to boil. So, you turned back around to grab a pot. 

Inside of you, the toy buzzed, low and rumbling, shaking your clit and rattling against your g-spot in tandem, freezing you in place, riding out the waves of sensation. You struggled to bring yourself back to your task, but you wanted to play along, so you brought the pot over to the sink, panting, trying to work through the blinding pleasure, filling the pot with warm water. You had a few seconds to wait for it to reach the top, so you closed your eyes, reveling in the vibrations. 

You let out a moan, eyes still wrenched shut, hands on either side of the sink. 

“Um, love?” Price interrupted your lust, pointing to the pot which was now overflowing.

“Oh, shit,” you turned off the tap, and managed to pour out some of the water without too much trouble.

However, as you turned to walk it back over to the stove, he turned up the intensity. There was now some sort of… rotation… happening inside of you. It honestly felt like you were being fucked, like a cock was thrusting up into you, punishing your core. You stopped in your tracks, gripping the heavy pot for dear life, moaning in full volume. 

“John!”

Everything stopped. You gasped, your eyes flitting to him immediately. The captain was grinning from ear to ear, drinking his whisky and enjoying the show. He chuckled,

“What is it? You alright?” 

You laughed in short, panting breaths, rolled your eyes at him, and put the pot down to open the pantry for the spaghetti. When you reached for the door handle, the sensations were back, sending bolts of pleasure through your pussy, making your panties damp as you gushed out around the unrelenting dildo. You grabbed the handle tighter, steadying yourself against the frame of the door, resting your body against it, keening like a paid whore. Just as you were about to tumble over the edge, inches away from coming, it stopped again. 

“John Price,” you turned toward him, eyes wild, “You did not just - ”

“I’m starving,” he said casually, not even looking in your direction, pretending to scroll through his phone, “Think you’ll have dinner ready soon, love?”

You groaned, opening the door and reaching for the pasta boxes, waiting for him to click the button again. 

There was nothing. 

You waited in the pantry a little longer, baiting him.

Nothing. Not even a little jiggle. 

You barged out of the pantry, and as soon as he saw you, you were sent to your knees. He’d turned whatever setting it was all the way up. You dropped the pasta boxes, crawling on the floor of the kitchen like an animal, screaming out lurid cries and feeling your thighs tremble from the onslaught. 

“Did you think I would let you hide in there where I couldn’t see you?” His question was delivered with cold cruelty. He had left his seat and was now standing over you, remote in hand, watching you suffer at his feet. You begged for mercy,

“Baby, please, God… I need… oh, fuck!”

“Pick up the pasta. Now,” He commanded you, his voice loud and oppressive.

“John, please,” you clutched at the leg of his jeans, feeling like you were coming in waves and waves and waves. 

He reached down with his empty hand and grabbed you by the hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to look up at him, 

“I said: Pick. Up. The. Pasta.”

“Okay, okay…” You were trying to breathe. You let go of his pant leg and reached for the boxes, feeling your pussy clench around the toy as it fucked the life out of you. 

Your hands were shaking. The dry spaghetti made the sound of cheap maracas, clattering out of the box and splashing in the boiling water. You tried to open the second box, and you couldn’t. Your hands weren’t following your commands.

Price’s eyes bore into you as he stood next to you, watching you come apart under his control. Very casually, he took the box from you, opened it, and handed it back to you. He was breathing hard, as if he, too, was being subjected to the same sensations. 

Unable to stop yourself, you looked down at his cock. It was pressing against his pants, making a perfect outline of itself, hard as a stone. He caught you looking and palmed himself over the top of the fabric, squeezing the head to relieve some of the tension. 

You were practically drooling for him. But, you went back to the meal, putting the other box of pasta in as gently as you could. The way that this toy was fucking you almost reminded you of having John’s fingers in you while he sucked on your clit. The vibrations and steady rocking movements brought you to completion in a way where you couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and the other began. 

As you turned your back to face Price, he moved toward you, pulling you away from the stove and shoving you up against the countertop. He snaked his hand between your legs and pushed up on the toy, forcing it to fuck you deeper than normally possible, shoving it in you mercilessly. 

“John, I’m going to come, please!”

You came, but it was unique. You felt like you were wetting yourself, coming so hard that fluid was squirting out of you, soaking your panties and leggings, along with John’s invasive hand. 

“Mm, fuck,” he growled in your ear, “Did you just squirt for me? Bloody fucking hell.”

“I don’t…” you couldn’t form coherent thoughts, “I dunno. John, help me, please…”

“Sweet girl, do you need this cock?” he pulled your bottoms down, trapping your knees with them, and held you up by your waist. He turned off the vibrator and tugged it out of you gently. You were so slick that it slid out of you without much resistance. Your pussy was throbbing, flooded with come, and desperate for a familiar sort of relief. 

“Yes, please, God,” you begged, tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright, love,” he let you feel his hot head at your pulsating entrance, ready to sink into you, “It’s alright, I'm here now.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut #john price x reader #captain price smut

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

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[roosterforme]

Do You Wanna Touch Me? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You had been working at the bar for six months. And you'd been crushing on Rooster since the first night he handed you his credit card, called you Babydoll, and asked you to start a tab for him. And it only got worse from there, until one night you asked him about more than just his drink order.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, age gap, and smut

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for my Top Gun Rocktober playlist! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oh, my god," you whined softly, drying and polishing the rack of pint glasses in front of you as Rooster Bradshaw came strolling into the bar. "Fuck me," you sighed, barely able to keep your eyes off him as you fumbled one of the glasses.

"Yeah, you'd like that," Lizzy said with a laugh as she cut up some lemons before the Friday evening rush.

You didn't even know you spoke out loud. That's how much of a ridiculous crush you had on that big, sexy man. But he strolled right past you on his way to the pool table, barely even sparing a smile in your direction. 

"I really would," you told her, watching the flex of his bicep as he high fived Hangman. It wasn't like your coworkers didn't know you had a thing for Rooster. You'd been working here for six months, and you'd been crushing on him since the first night he handed you his credit card, called you Babydoll, and asked you to start a tab for him. And it only got worse from there.

He still occasionally called you Babydoll. He never called Lizzy or Jasmine by a pet name. Just you. And you held onto that little glimmer of hope that it meant something. That maybe one day, he'd look at you as more than just one of the bartenders.

"What's wrong with you?" Jas asked, waving a hand in front of your face. But then she looked where you were staring, and she asked no further questions. "Oh. Rooster's here."

"He sure is," you added, forcing yourself to focus on the customer in front of you who looked impatient for a drink. As you finished pouring him some tequila shots, you looked up eagerly, and Rooster met your eyes. It had been a solid week since you'd seen him, and he just always looked so good.

You pushed the shot glasses across the bar and collected payment, trying to stay as cool as you could. Because Rooster was heading your way now in his snug vintage wash jeans and bright tropical shirt. 

"Hey, Babydoll," he rasped, and your whole body clenched with need as your eyes fluttered closed. When you met his gaze again, he was leaning on the bar, closing in on your personal space. 

"Hey, Rooster," you replied, sounding a lot calmer than you felt. When he smirked and looked down at your shirt, your heart pounded even harder. Your name was embroidered on your Hard Deck top, just above your breast. He knew your name, but he always called you Babydoll anyway. So was he just simply staring at your tits?

He cleared his throat and asked, "Get me a beer? Please?" 

"Am I starting a tab?" you asked, reaching for one of the pint glasses you'd just finished cleaning. He responded by humming and sliding his credit card across the bar. He held eye contact with you while you expertly pulled the perfect pint of his preferred beer. The way his lips parted in a soft smile that matched yours, the twitch of his mustache...it all felt like foreplay that had been going on for months.

"Thanks," he muttered when your fingers brushed against his. He winked at you before turning back to the pool table, leaving you with his credit card and a desperate need inside of you.

As you set up his tab, Jasmine ran her hand along your lower back so you wouldn't bump her as she walked behind you. "Why don't you just invite him to join you in the bathroom and fuck him out of your system?" she joked. 

"Because," you sighed, "that would only make me pine harder. Getting a small taste of him would be worse than nothing at all."

"Oof," Lizzy replied. "You're a mess over Bradshaw."

"I wonder how old he is?" Jas asked.

You hummed and shrugged, watching him drink his beer across the room while you shook a vodka martini. "Gotta be at least thirty five."

"Ask him," Lizzy said. "Next time he comes over, ask him how old he is."

Your cheeks were warming up. He was bending at the waist, playing pool, and you were taking way too long to serve this martini. "No. What if he thinks I'm being rude? Or worse...what if he catches on that I like him, and he shuts it all down."

"Fine," Jas said, uncapping some ciders. "Next time Rooster comes up, I'll wait on him."

But that really didn't sit well with you. Rooster always came to you for his drinks, anytime he could. You liked that about him. You liked his attention. Jas wouldn't pour his pints quite as well as you could. You knew so well how much foam to let spill and how close to the top of the glass you could get. You loved pulling those pints of lager for him. And you loved pouring him bourbon when he asked for that instead. You knew which brand and that he liked it neat. You didn't have to ask. He didn't have to tell you.

No, you should always be the one to wait on him. And when he finished his pint and strolled back up to the bar after Phoenix beat him at pool, you stepped in front of Jasmine. "I got it," you said confidently, and Jas walked away chuckling. This time Rooster eased himself down onto an empty stool between two women who looked at him like they'd just won the lottery. But his eyes were on you. 

"Lager or bourbon?" you asked, and you were rewarded with those perfect, white teeth and his deep laughter. 

"You got everyone's regular drinks memorized?" he asked as you reached for his empty glass. But he didn't let you take it. He kept one hand on the glass for a few beats while your fingers met his. 

He was making you feel bold tonight. He was even more gorgeous up close like this, with a few gray hairs at his temples and some laugh lines around his eyes. His eyebrows shot up, and his smile faltered when you said, "No, Rooster. Not everybody's regular drinks. Only the hottest guys. Lager or bourbon?"

He grunted and swallowed hard. "Dealer's choice." Then he finally let you take the empty glass, and it was a good thing, too, because you needed to turn away from him. You took a few extra seconds to reach for the bottle of Wild Turkey. Your nipples were hard, your skin felt like it was on fire, and you were turned on just talking to him.

When you turned back to face him, his gaze was neutral again. You uncapped the bourbon and poured it for him, neat. 

"Thanks," he murmured, moving like he was standing to leave. 

And then your mouth worked before your brain, and you said, "Anytime, Sexy."

You watched him pause halfway out of his seat, his eyes dipping down to watch you nervously lick your lips. If he left for the pool table, you really were going to have to let Jasmine wait on him next time. Embarrassment flooded your veins, leaving you uncomfortable with a sheen of cold sweat on your neck. But he eased himself back down onto the stool and kept his eyes on you. "Alright. Babydoll."

You laughed softly, pulling out some glasses for the woman who wanted two cosmos. Rooster sipped his bourbon and kept his focus on your face and your body. He grunted as you took a shaker in each hand, and as you poured them out at the same time, he asked, "What's your favorite drink?"

He was hyper focused on you now, leaning in just the slightest bit further as you served both pink drinks. "To have or to make?" you asked, taking more orders.

"Both. I want you to tell me both."

You smiled at him, and he matched it right away. "Nothing is more fun to make than an expertly crafted Bloody Mary, but those are best as breakfast cocktails."

He nodded, accepting your answer, and then he asked, "And what do you order when you go out?"

You shrugged. "I don't often get to have someone make my drinks for me, but when I do, I usually order a Manhattan."

"A Manhattan?" he asked, balking at your answer. "How fuckin' old are you, Babydoll? People in their seventies drink those things!"

"I'm twenty three," you told him, laughing so hard you were doubled over. He looked delighted when you were finally able to stand up straight again. Your smile was still bright as you leaned on the bar until you were only two feet from his face and softly asked, "How old are you?"

The song on the jukebox changed as Rooster rubbed his mustache and said, "I'm a lot older than you are." His little self deprecating laugh just made you want to get closer to him. He looked amused by you and also resigned to the fact that he thought his age was something you wouldn't like about him.

"How old?" you asked again, biting your lip. 

His brown eyes found your mouth, and you thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you. Oh god, you wanted him to, so badly. "I'm thirty eight."

You hummed softly as Phoenix came to stand next to him, and you started to get her favorite kind of beer ready. 

"You coming back to the pool table?" she asked Rooster, but he just grunted something about needing to finish his bourbon first. When you handed Phoenix her drink, Rooster told you to put it on his tab, and he looked relieved when she walked away.

"Thirty eight," you said, watching him down the remainder of the drink in his glass. "That's why you're so good at flirting? You've had time to practice?"

He coughed a little bit as he set his empty glass down on the bar top. "Babydoll, I'm fifteen years older than you."

"So?" you asked, pulling another perfect pint for him. "You don't want to flirt with me?"

"Now wait, that's not what I'm saying at all. Just surprised you don't want to flirt with someone your own age."

"I don't like boys my age," you told him fearlessly. "I like men."

"Oh, hell," he groaned, taking a long sip of his fresh beer. "Just look at you. You're gonna get yourself in trouble if you don't find a nice guy."

He looked flustered now. You were making Lieutenant Bradshaw flustered. His cheeks were pink, and he kept sipping his beer, avoiding your gaze. He looked adorable and boyish, and you didn't know quite what to do about this. Or about the fact that talking to him was making you wet. 

"Hmmm," you hummed, and his eyes met yours immediately. "Are you a nice guy?"

"Fuck," he groaned, adjusting himself in his seat. "Sometimes."

"You're always pretty sweet to me," you whispered. "What's it like when you're not a nice guy, Rooster?"

You wanted to touch him for more than a few fleeting seconds. After six months, you thought you were going to. His long, thick fingers were just resting there in front of you. But then Fanboy came to the bar and asked you to close out his tab. And then you had to help Lizzy pour a massive round of shots. And then when Rooster asked you to close out his tab as well, you did it with a pout on your lips. 

As you slid his credit card, the slip he needed to sign, and a pen across the bar, he smiled at you. "Aww, come on. Don't give me that look. You know how it is."

"I don't, actually," you replied, watching him sign the credit card receipt for you. "How is it?"

He looked up and studied your face. "You're too perfect to mess with, Babydoll. Too young. Too pretty to touch."

You chewed on your lip and squeezed your thighs together. You had to know. Your voice was soft and unsure as you asked him, "Do you wanna touch me?"

He didn't meet your eyes again as he scribbled on the receipt and then left it and the pen for you to collect. He stood up from his stool, gave a quick salute to his friends and then headed for the door. 

You moaned helplessly. You blew it. He thought you were just a kid, and you never stood a chance. And now he'd probably never even look at you again. 

But when you picked up the receipt, you read one word written there under his name. YES.

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

When you strolled into the bar the next evening, you got right to work. You had no idea if Rooster would show up, and you weren't sure if you even wanted to see him or not. You'd torn off the bottom of his credit card slip and taken it home with you. That little scrap of paper on which he'd admitted he wanted to touch you was hanging on your bedroom mirror. But it was the fact that he was probably never going to touch you, even though he was more than welcome to, that was making you frustrated. 

"What's wrong with you?" Lizzy asked as she arrived a minute later. "You look hot."

You glanced down at your Hard Deck top, denim skirt and beat up sneakers. "I look the same as I always do," you told her, continuing to dump buckets of ice into the cooler behind the bar. 

"Maybe it's your makeup," she replied. "I think you're hoping Rooster comes in tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "I always hope he's going to be here. He's pretty. I like looking at him."

"I'm not going to dispute that," Lizzy said as she cut up the lemons again tonight. "But I think you actually like him. Not just the way he looks."

You didn't respond, because it didn't matter. You'd keep the flirtation to a minimum the next time you saw him. The last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were desperate. He wanted to touch you? He could go right ahead. But you weren't about to beg him to.

As the bar got crowded, Jasmine showed up as well. The three of you got into a nice rhythm. A lot of the aviators were back again tonight, and you were serving them drink after drink. And then it was like you knew he was there before you saw him. After you handed a couple their drinks, your eyes automatically shifted toward the doorway, finding it filled with Rooster's big body. And he was already looking at you. 

"You want me to wait on him?" Lizzy asked you softly as Rooster approached the bar. 

But you just shook your head and reached for two different glasses, holding them up as he took a seat in front of you. When he pointed to the pint glass, he said, "Lager. Please."

"Sure," you replied, setting the smaller glass aside and pulling a perfect pint of beer for him. "Start a tab?"

"Nah, I'm not staying long tonight," he told you as you placed the beer in front of him without meeting his gaze. "Just wanted to see you and get one drink."

"Mmkay," you said. But when you pulled your hand away, he reached for it. 

Stunned, you let him take your hand in his large one, and then he asked, "Does this mean you're done flirting with the old man now? You got it all out of your system yesterday?" His eyes were guarded, cautious, and he held onto your hand, expecting an answer. 

You shook your head slowly, running your fingertips along his rough calluses. "I was just getting started."

A crooked little smile danced across his lips. "I am too old for you, Babydoll. And it's a shame."

Your heart jumped in your chest, hand still tangled up with his on the bar top. You could hear Lizzy and Jasmine working extra hard to take all the orders, trying to give you a moment here. So you smiled back. "You think you're old. So what? You expect me to call you Daddy?"

"Shit," he grunted, squirming a bit in his seat but keeping your hand in his.

When he didn't respond right away, you leaned a little closer, one eyebrow raised. "I asked you a question."

His eyes were wide, and that little grin was back. "I could be a... Daddy. Maybe for the right girl."

You pulled your hand free of his and planted both palms on the bar top and leaned closer to him. "And just how is a girl supposed to know if she's the right one?"

But his cheeks were tinged with pink once again, and he looked flustered. It was flattering, such an ego boost. You were the one who made him like this. But he wasn't responding now, and you needed to help Jas pour some chardonnay for the impatient ladies at the end of the bar. You sighed and said, "Well, I work until eleven. So just think on it."

But he wouldn't let you leave. Rooster reached for your hand again, but this time he was the one leaning closer. "The right girl would be one that I can't seem to stay away from. You said you work until eleven?"

"Yes," you replied softly, his large hand completely covering yours on the bar top.

"Right. Then ask me again if I want to start a tab."

You pressed your lips together, trying not to giggle. "Would you like to start a tab, Rooster?"

"You're damn right I would, Babydoll. I can't get enough of you. Think I'll just hang here until eleven. If that's okay with you."

This time you did giggle. "Yeah. That's okay with me." As he pulled his wallet out and handed you his credit card, you asked, "Bourbon or lager?"

"Make it a Manhattan."

"I've been told these drinks are for people in their seventies," you said with a straight face as you reached for the vermouth, secretly pleased he wanted your favorite. "You're only thirty eight."

"Listen," he said, watching you fix his drink. "You said you don't like boys your own age. And maybe I'm a little older than you, but all the parts are still in working order."

You felt giddy. When you set the glass down in front of him, you couldn't help but ask, "Does that mean you'll let me take you for a test drive?" 

You had to work to keep an innocent expression on your face as Bradley's blush deepened. He took a sip of his Manhattan, licked his lips and said, "I don't do test drives anymore."

"Oh," you said with a little pout. "You don't?"

"No," he replied a bit cautiously, taking another sip of his cocktail. "I'm getting too old for that. I like at least a little bit of commitment from the driver. Don't wanna feel like I'll get dinged up."

You shivered at his words, mesmerized by his voice and his demeanor as he looked down into his glass. Could you do more than a test drive? Of course you'd thought about it. You were crushing so hard, you'd imagined what it would be like if he was your boyfriend. But you'd barely even let yourself hope for a one night stand. Even that much seemed too good to be true.

"Oh," you said again in a softer tone. When he glanced up, his dark eyes were no longer guarded, and he was looking at you warily. Without giving it much thought, you pushed up onto the bar and leaned until he met you halfway in a kiss. It was just the softest brush of your lips against his. But the sound he made and the prickle of his mustache on your skin left you wide eyed and out of breath as you eased yourself back down. "No. You're too handsome to get all dinged up. I'm a great driver."

"Yeah," he said with a little laugh. "I can already tell. And that's what I was afraid of last night. There's just something about you, isn't there?"

"You have a thing for me?" you asked him, gripping the edge of the bar top. "Because I definitely have a thing for you." You had stopped breathing now, and your heart was pounding in your ears. 

With a little grin, he said, "Yeah, I do, Babydoll."

"Well, what are we going to do about it, Daddy?" you asked with another giggle as Jasmine thrust a bottle of prosecco into your hands. 

"We're going to go out my Bronco the minute your shift is over. We'll figure it out there." 

You nearly dropped the bottle when you met his eyes. "A quickie?" you asked softly, but you were sure he heard you.

"No," he groaned, running his big palm along his mouth and shaking his head at you. Then he finished the rest of his Manhattan in one gulp and pushed the glass your way. "Nothing about this is gonna be quick. I'd like to take my time, especially with someone as perfect as you."

You sounded like a feral animal, thighs clenched together and gripping the bottle of prosecco with both hands. 

"Shit," Rooster grunted. "You're making it hard to just sit here, Babydoll."

"Hard?" you asked with a grin. 

"You'll find out."

After another embarrassing noise, you had to excuse yourself to the other end of the bar for a few minutes. Jesus, you needed to keep your job, after all. But his eyes followed you everywhere. Any time you looked his way, he was transfixed on you. When you pulled a pint of lager and set it down for him, he whispered, "Thanks, Babydoll," sending shivers along your skin again. 

"Anything else you want, Rooster?" you asked him sweetly. 

His gaze dipped down to your chest before returning to your face. "Nothing I'm allowed to have inside the bar."

"At least not when we're open to the public, sir," you replied, giving him a little salute that had him reaching for you across the bar. But you managed to skirt away from his grasp with another laugh. 

"You coming back over here?" he asked between sips of his beer. "I didn't get a chance to ask you if you'll make me a Bloody Mary for breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah. Breakfast," he confirmed with a smile. "At my place?"

You pressed your lips together to keep from screaming. "So since this isn't a test drive, what are my options, exactly? Am I looking at a lease? A financing package?"

"I'm sure you'll know what you want to do when the time comes. And I'm going to need you to stop saying package right now."

"Just go," Jasmine told you suddenly. "It's after ten, and you're useless. You and he have had hours of foreplay already. Go."

"Are you sure?" you asked, already reaching for your bag and Rooster's credit card.

"Yes," Lizzy confirmed. Then she looked at Rooster who was already standing up and told him, "Pay your tab next week. And get her out of here."

"My pleasure," he rasped, and you practically ran for the opening in the bar, ducking underneath the counter. And when you stood up again, he was right there. He was so tall and broad, and with a coy smile, you slipped his credit card into the pocket of his jeans. When your fingers trailed closer to his zipper, he grabbed your wrist gently. 

"Just checking for myself to make sure all the parts are working," you mused as he raised your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles gently. In the middle of the crowded bar. Then he wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck, and you pulled him down for a kiss. 

He kept it pretty clean as he promised, "Wait until we get outside."

"Now," you demanded, pulling him along behind you by his shirt collar. As soon as the cool, night air met your hot skin, he had your bare thighs in his hands, and your back was pressed against the side of the building. "Oh my god," you gasped. Your body was pinned between the siding and Rooster, and the rough denim of his jeans was rubbing you deliciously through your underwear. 

"I told you I'm not going to rush," he whispered, pressing into you as you held onto his shoulders. He teased you with that delicious mustache and his lips on your neck before he kissed your ear and said, "Now, I'm gonna need verbal confirmation, Babydoll."

"Yes!" you nearly shouted. "Everything!"

He chuckled next to your ear and asked, "You wanna fuck in my Bronco?"

"Yes," you moaned so loudly, you were sure Jasmine and Lizzy could hear you. 

"I don't have any condoms with me," he said, looking you in the eye. "Do we need them?"

"No, I'm clean, and I take the pill," you said, leaning in to kiss his lips. He tasted you, running the tip of his tongue along yours before pulling his lips away. 

You whined for him, but he was undeterred. "I need you to tell me that you'll come home with me and make me that Bloody Mary in the morning while I make you breakfast."

He already wanted you to sleep over with him. He wanted to make you breakfast. He didn't want to have a one night stand. He was waiting for an answer. "You'll have to let me know if you want it traditional or extra spicy."

"Fuck," he grunted before his lips came crashing against yours. His big hands held your thighs wide as he rolled his hips gently against you. 

"Rooster," you moaned against his lips as he let you gently slide down his body until your feet hit the ground. 

"Please call me Bradley," he whispered as he wrapped his hand around your waist and quickly guided you across the dark parking lot. 

When you saw the Bronco, you ran the last little bit hand in hand. His laughter mixed with yours as he unlocked the door. "Come on, Bradley," you sang, looking up at him over your shoulder before climbing up onto the driver's seat on your hands and knees. "Do you wanna touch me?"

"Babydoll," he moaned, keeping you still as he guided your skirt up over your butt and around your waist. You cried out as he kissed the backs of your thighs. He slipped his fingers inside the thin strips of lace fabric that made up your thong, and you couldn't ever remember being this turned on before. 

"Bradley!" you gasped loudly when his lips and tongue met the globe of your rear end. He slid the lace to one side and kissed your slit from behind until you were panting. You might cum. You might actually have an orgasm on your hands and knees with your ass in his face. Boys your own age couldn't get you like this no matter what they did.

He gently swatted at you before palming your ass and saying, "Get in the backseat."

Oh yes. He was about to show you what else his age and experience had to offer, and you were already shaking with need. "Yes, sir," you whispered, and you heard him mutter a string of obscenities as you scrambled onto the backseat. As he slid the driver's seat forward and climbed in the back, you carefully pulled your underwear down your thighs. He helped you and then pressed the lace to his nose before pulling you onto his lap. 

"I've thought about this so many times when I touched myself," you blurted out as he teased your clit with his thumb. "Bronco sex," you whined, head tipped back, enjoying the perfect pressure he applied to your body. "Bronco sex with Bradley Bradshaw."

"Forgive me, Babydoll," he whispered, voice harsh. "But last night was the first time I jerked off thinking about you. Too afraid to go there before that, thinking there was no way in hell you'd want me."

"I want you," you swore, meeting his eyes in the near darkness. If anyone else was out in the parking lot, you couldn't see them. And you didn't care if they could see you, because he was slipping one thick finger inside you. "Wanted you for so long. Months and months."

"Jesus, you're tight," he groaned, sliding your snug top up to your chest as you rode his hand. "And you skipped a bra tonight like a good girl."

"Bradley," you gasped as he cupped your bare breast in his big hand. He lazily swirled his thumb around your nipple before bending to take you into his mouth. "Oh my god!" 

Your orgasm was already building. You had only been in the backseat with him for a few minutes, and he was still fully clothed. But now you were riding two fingers, and his thumb was delicious against your clit. As he licked and sucked on your breast, you started to clench. 

"Damn," he muttered against your body. "Already?"

You just nodded before guiding his lips up to yours, and you came as you moaned loudly against his mouth. "Bradley." You raked your fingers up into his hair and kissed him. He was hard through his jeans, and when he withdrew his fingers, you felt them trail up your body. 

"You're so pretty," he whispered, pulling your top over your head. "You'll look even better in my bed."

You wanted him to fuck you here first, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't already thought about his place and what he might make you for breakfast. And as you sat straddled his hips in nothing but your skirt up around your waist and your sneakers on your feet, you felt adored by him. He was kissing a trail down between your breasts and rubbing his thumbs along your thighs. 

"Bradley," you whined, rubbing your pussy against his jeans, already feeling a little wrung out. "Please."

The street light at the corner reflected in his eyes, letting you know he was looking at your face as he raised his hips and unzipped his jeans. And a few seconds later, they were down around his knees along with his underwear. Your lips met his as you felt the velvety soft tip of his cock resting against your core. As you kissed him and tugged on his hair, he throbbed for you. And suddenly you weren't in such a hurry either. 

"Let me make you feel good," he whispered, and as you slid down around him, Bradley guided you with his hands on your hips. "You're so wet, my god."

"You always make me wet, even when you just talk to me at the bar," you admitted softly, your voice shaking as he kept pushing deeper inside you. "Oh. You're huge."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, pausing where he was. But you just shook your head and rolled your hips slowly until he was completely inside you. He kissed you softly as you gasped and got used to him. "I don't wanna hurt this sweet pussy," he whispered next to your ear. "Perfect."

And then he brushed his knuckles along your clit and leaned his head back, watching as you rode him. "Take it off," you gasped, and he let you push his shirt down his arms and pull his tank over his head. You explored his broad chest with your hands and his shoulders with your lips. He was warm and rough and oh so sweet. His chest hairs brushed against your nipples as he guided your hips with his hands.

"Bradley?"

"Hmm?" 

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed his lips. "Fuck. So good." He felt delicious, his big hands everywhere, sliding up to span your back and keep you close. He fucked you in long, fluid movements that just got faster and faster. His pubes were coarse against your clit. His little grunts and words of praise kept you going as you started squeezing around his cock.

"Don't stop, Babydoll," he coaxed as you got closer. When his lips met your sweat slick chest again, and he pulled your nipple between his teeth, you came for him.

"Oh!" 

As your legs shook and your fingers went loose in his hair, Bradley fucked up into you until you were screaming his name. 

"Good girl," he grunted, and suddenly you were on your back along the seat with your legs spread wide. He fucked you with long, hard strokes that made your tits bounce and prolonged your orgasm. His lips were everywhere, and you were surrounded by his voice in the dark, holding onto his biceps as he came inside you.

You scrambled to get your mouth on his as you both caught your breath together, and as your heartbeat started to return to normal, you pressed a dozen soft kisses to his lips, one after the next. "Will you take me home?"

His hands stilled on your thigh and your neck. "Yeah," he said with a tone of sadness. "I can drop you off at home."

When he started pulling away without so much as another kiss, you reached for him, keeping him firmly inside you. "No, no. Take me home with you, Bradley."

"My place?" His voice was still soft, but it sounded hopeful now.

"Of course," you reassured him, and his kisses returned. "I'll spend the whole morning tomorrow making you Bloody Marys with little heart shaped garnishes."

He smiled against your lips before he said, "I'd like that, Babydoll."

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

The Hard Deck was pretty busy the following evening, and you were so physically exhausted from your night with Bradley, you could barely keep up. The Sunday crowd was keeping you on your toes, and Jasmine wouldn't stop asking you how your night ended. 

"Did you go home with him? You did. I can tell," she said as you just shrugged at all of her questions. "Are you going to see him again? Come on! Tell me!"

When you saw movement on the other side of the bar top, Jasmine's eyes went wide. "Hey, babydoll." The deep rumble of his voice was so distinct, you didn't need to look at him to know it was Bradley. He had whispered dirty, sweet things in your ears all night and all morning. You knew the sound of his voice by heart now.

When your eyes met his, you reached for a pint glass and filled it with his favorite beer. "Hey, Bradley. Wanna start a tab?" you asked with a soft smile.

You giggled as he reached for your hand and tugged you closer. Then he leaned across the bar and kissed you as his nose brushed against yours. "For you? Always. And don't close the tab until your shift ends."

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

No more test drives. I'm sure she's already considering her options to make him hers permanently. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32. Also, the pretty banner was made by Mak!

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[lesservillain]

older!alpha!steve harrington x younger!omega!reader

cw: SMUT, omegaverse dynamics, unprotected piv, modern setting, steve is a divorcee and single dad, steve is in his early 40s and reader is in their mid to late 20s an: this is just a self indulgent lil one shot bc i love older men ugh

“She was totally checking you out, by the way.”

Steve pushes the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his attempt to hide the pink that dusts over his cheeks at Robin’s comment.

“What? No she wasn’t. Don’t do this today.”

The plastic of the menu bends in Steve’s grip by Robin’s ringed fingers. He tries to focus on the suns glare hitting the laminated paper rather than his best friend’s knowing gaze. He hates that she does this to him.

 It wasn’t their first time at this diner, nor was it their first time being waited on by you. What started as Robin’s attempt to get her depressed best friend out of the house after a quick but painful divorce has turned into a regular bi-weekly Sunday outing for the pair. And thanks to Robin’s commitment to a bit, she makes sure to arrive before Steve every time to sit in your section, all because she caught Steve checking you out one time.

“Why don’t you believe me that she likes you?”

“Robin—”

“Steve.” The tired battle of lifting Steve’s confidence was one that Robin refused to lose. “How many times do I have to tell you that you still got it? A little gray hair and a dorky mustache is, like, the new six pack abs for girls in their 20s.”

“Oh, god, do I need to have Hailey touch up my hair already?” Steve’s hands fly to cover the sides of his hair where his grays tended to show the most. The sudden movement sent his menu flying down to land on the floor next to him. 

“Shit—”

“Here you go—”

Skin meets skin when you went to grab the flimsy plastic at the same time as Steve. A shock wave runs from Steve’s finger through the rest of his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hazel eyes jump up to meet yours, and he can feel the breath from your gasp on his cheek. You shoot up, frozen in place as you look down at him. The tension is palpable between you. 

Suddenly, you bolt, leaving Steve still leaning over his seat as he watches you take off out of sight.

“What was that about?” The tone in Robin’s voice had Steve sitting up straight, annoyance clear in his expression.

“What was what, Robin?”

“Um, are we just going to ignore that pheromone drop you just did?”

Steve shifts in his seat, eyes wide as he looks around the diner. A few heads were turned to him, mostly older alpha’s with death glares as their marked omega’s sit blissfully unaware across from them. “Sorry.” He says in a hushed apology, shrinking back into his booth seat.

“Well, at least we have confirmation your girlfriend is an omega,” Robin says over a sip of her coffee. Steve’s ears perk up, but he does his best not to show his interest in the topic of you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. “I honestly probably just scared the shit out of her. Did you see how fast she ran off?”

“I’m sure you were watching.” Steve’s head falls back with a scoff, making Robin giggle at his embarrassment. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop now.”

“Thank you.”

“Are we ready to order?”

Robin and Steve turn to the waitress at the end of the table, immediately noticing she’s not you. They give the girl their order, and Steve can’t help but feel some type of way about how you would have just asked them if they wanted their regulars. With a heavy sigh Steve stares at the table’s vintage pattern until Robin calls his name. Her expression is soft, knowing in a way that is both relieving and disheartening.

“Maybe she’s on a break?”

“She hates me.”

“She does not hate you.”

“Yes she does. I’m a grown man who couldn’t control his pheromones all because a pretty girl touched his hand? We should probably just leave.”

Robin grabs Steve’s arm with a laugh as he attempts to make an escape from their booth. “Steve, it’s fine. I doubt you’re the first person that’s done that to her. Just relax.”

Steve sighs and nods. “Okay, okay. I’m good now.”

SPACE

“So you’re good to pick up the girls from practice this week, right? I’m hoping that this project will be wrapped up by Thursday--”

“Of course, Steven,” Robin says as she opens her car door. “You think I’d ever turn down the chance to spend time with one of my favorite nieces?” 

“I just want to make sure. I don’t want to give Becca any ammunition against me, you know.” Steve’s hands flex, thinking back to the argument him and his now ex wife had those months back.

Robin opens her mouth, but decides against whatever she had to say, simply nodding instead. “I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve nods back, watching as Robin gets in her car and drives away. He leans back to see her car disappear down the road before swinging his own door open and leaning inside. Reaching into his center console, he pulls out a pack of smokes and a lighter, bringing the butt to his lips and flicking the lighter. The flame refuses to stay, however, the clicking grating his ears with every failed attempt causing him to curse.

“Need a light?”

Steve spins around, bewildered, large hazel eyes like saucers when they land on you. A bright pink lighter sits between your fingers, and with a flick the flame emerges, waiting for him to lean in. He puffs until the heat hit his throat, pulling back to take in a deep drag, letting the smoke blow upward above him. 

When he looks back down at you, you’ve barely moved. Eyes lidded slightly and lips parted just so, almost like you were mesmerized by him. It makes Steve chuckle out of nervousness, not used to being ogled at his “big age” as his daughters would say.

“Thank you,” he says with a smile that seems to bring you back to this planet, eyes blinking rapidly before you pull out your own pack of cigarettes. 

“Yeah, of course.” Your eyes flicker up to him for a moment before giving yourself a light.

“You’re too pretty to be smoking,” Steve says passively, smoke billowing out between his own lips.

You look up at him through your lashes. For a brief moment you look annoyed at his comment and Steve is sure he fucked up again. The words of his oldest going on about how men shouldn’t comment on what women do rings in his ears and he wants to slap himself.

“Well, I could say the same for you.” There’s a teasing lit in your words, but the cute shuffle and bounce combo that you do gives Steve butterflies as it fuels his delusions. 

Channeling his former self, his mind shifts into King Steve mode after 20 years of retirement. He takes a step into your space and internally celebrates when you don’t move away. “Awe, you think I’m pretty?” The tone of his voice surprises him, coming out more sensual than he intended. But your reaction tells him that he must be doing something right.

“You’re definitely nice to look at.” Your words come out even but breathy. Was he really having this effect on you? Maybe Robin wasn’t wrong about him still having it in him.

“Oh, so you like to look at me?”

“Only for about an hour every other Sunday.”

Steve sucks in a breath. The way you’re looking at him right now is making him have thoughts that aren’t appropriate for the very public parking lot of your workplace. But he can’t get over the fact that you’ve been looking at him of all people.

“Is-is that so?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, taking a drag of your cigarette and blowing it out. “Would be nice to look at you for an hour from a different angle sometime.”

Steve coughs on his hit, completely thrown off by your forwardness. But you don’t seem to be deterred, rather you close the gap between the two of you, chests touching as you look up into his eyes.

Lips move in a feverish kiss as Steve pins you against his front door, keys fumbling in his hand as he attempts to unlock it while keeping the two of you connected. You giggle against his neck when he pulls away, leaving a few kisses against his skin as he finally gets the door open. His hands fly to your hips, walking you backwards into his home where his lips crash into yours once again.

“Nice place,” you say as he moves to leave heated kisses against your neck.

“Thanks,” he says between nips on your skin. A low groan pulls from his chest when he feels your hand slide down to palm at his crotch. A smirk forms on his lips at the little gasp you let out when you feel his size, and he bucks his hips into your hand playfully.

In one swift motion he lifts you up and over his shoulder, delighted by your laughter filled squealing as he carries you to his bedroom. Kicking the door open with a gentle shove, he walks you over to his king size bed and plops you down on the comforter. The huge smile and wild look in your eyes spurs him on, all the blood in his body rushing to his dick when you reach your arms out for him. 

Steve pulls off his shirt with haste, and your eyes fix on the healthy patch of hair that covers his chest that tapers down his stomach to where it disappears into his jeans. He feels a little self conscious under your gaze, but the way your tongue darts out of your mouth, licking across your bottom lip has him climbing over top of you to chase it with his own. 

Hands move between your bodies and clothes go flying until the two of you are fully exposed to each other. Steve’s hard, leaking cock presses into your thigh, laying heavy against your already hot flesh. Your fingers run through his soft locks as his mouth attaches to your breast, nipping and biting until his mouth reaches your hardened nipple. 

While his mouth pays your sensitive chest attention, his large hands have wandered down between your legs and began running his fingers through your folds. His fingers skim over your clit with each stroke, sending little jolts through your body.

“God, you’re so wet,” he breathes out, his blown out pupils meeting yours.

“Just for you,” you say with a smirk, one that turns into an open mouth moan when he finally plunges a finger into your waiting cunt. 

There’s no mercy as his fingers move inside of you just right, hitting that spot with a curled finger over and over. Your hands grip his shoulders, instinctively trying to push him away but he doesn’t relent. He just watches the way your face contorts as another thick finger joins in stretching you out for him. 

“So beautiful.” Steve doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud, but he can’t think of another word to describe the way you look under him. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

His praises send you over the edge and you cum hard on his fingers. The way you squeeze his fingers mixed with the smell of your pheromones releasing has Steve’s cock twitching in anticipation. When you come down from your high, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and pull him in for sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

“Mmm, gonna need you to fuck me now, big boy,” you say into his ear, tongue licking at his lobe in a way that makes his hair stand up on the back of his neck. Your soft hand slides down between the two of you to grab his cock and pump it a few times in your hand. “Do you have any condoms?”

Steve freezes above you. 

“Um, well no…” he stutters. “Me—uh, my wife— ex wife—,” he looks at you directly with his clarification, “she had her tubes tied so we, um, we never used them so I don’t have—”

You put a finger over Steve’s lips, hushing his babbling immediately. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a sympathetic look, “I understand. We can stop…or.”

“Or?” Steve asks.

“Or, if you don’t care…then I don’t care? Just pull out?”

Steve felt like he was going to bust in your hand as it worked his aching cock. Deep down he knew it was irresponsible. But the way you were making him feel was lowering his inhibitions. And when was the last time he’d ever been reckless? 

“O-okay,” he swallows dryly, “I’m okay with that. But, um, I do want to be transparent with you.” Your head tilts to the side waiting for his response. God, could you be any cuter? “I, um, I haven’t been with an omega in, like, 20 years. So, I just—just know I’m not sure how long I’m going to last, you know…”

“Your wife—”

“Ex wife—”

“Ex wife, she wasn’t an omega?”

Steve shakes his head. He’d never been one to care about second gender dynamics. Sure, there were elements to their alpha x beta relationship that didn’t fulfill him like an omega would, but he loved Becca all the same during their relationship.

You go quiet for a moment, and Steve is sure he’s completely ruined the moment between the two of you. He’s mentally preparing himself to take you back to your car, but you suddenly move beneath him in a way that flips him on his back. He watches as you straddle his lap, your dripping cunt hovering just above his cock where you still have your hand wrapped around it.

“You poor thing,” you say with faux perturbance, lowering down far enough that you can rub yourself against his length. “Gone all these years with no omega to make you feel good?” Steve nods dumbly, completely entranced by the dynamic shift between you. “Do you want me to fix that for you? Wanna fill me up with your alpha cock?”

“Yes—yes, please.” His voice comes out a pathetic, whiny plea as his glassy eyes stay laser focused on yours.

Without warning you sink down onto his cock, both of you moaning out at the sudden connection. Even with him stretching you out on his fingers and the amount of slick your body produced, your tight cunt still squeezes Steve like a vice as you take each inch of him like a champ. You move up and down, working yourself open on him and Steve can barely stand it, wanting to grab your hips and move you himself. But Steve breaths through it, nostrils flared,  until you’re seated completely against him, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“Hooooly shit,” he breathes out. Steve needs a second to keep himself from cumming too soon, but it’s a second that you don’t spare him as you begin to bounce on his cock. Leaning over him, your hands rest against his chest, giving him the perfect view of your tits as they bounce in his face. 

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan out, brows pinching as the head of his cock reaches deep inside of you. “Even for an alpha, you’re s-so fucking big.”

Steve finally lets his hands grip on your hips, but instead of moving you how he wants, he fights against you to still your movements. 

A pout forms on your lips as you look down at him, and Steve wants nothing more than to shove his cock in your mouth to get rid of it. But, you feel too good wrapped around him so he takes his thumb and pushes it past your lips instead. Immediately you begin to suck and mouth on it, slowly grinding your hips against him to get any bit of friction between you.

When he pulls his thumb from your mouth, it lands on your clit to rub slow circles into it. You whine at the stimulation, trying to buck your hips faster in order to chase your high. 

Loosening his grip, he lets you move against him again. Steve watches in awe at the way you come undone above him, picking up the pace on his thumb as you move with little rhyme or reason. He feels your body stiffen, jaw dropping with a silent scream as your cum all over his cock, your slick coating his balls and dripping down onto the bed sheets underneath you.

Steve is generous enough to give you a second to come down before he’s pulling you off of him and back onto the bed. He watches the way your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, the far off look in your eyes fading away as you look up at him with a satisfied grin.

“Did so good, sweet girl,” Steve says between peppered kisses against your face, making you beam. His gentle hands maneuver your limp body until you're flat on your stomach. He rubs up and down your back until his grip lands on your ass, kneading at the flesh there and spreading you apart for him to admire.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Steve praises. Your body jumps when you feel his fingers run through you again, followed by an almost pained groan. Looking back over your shoulder, you see Steve’s fingers in his own mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he savors the way you taste. “Fucking amazing. Forgot how good omega pussy is.” 

You hum at his words, finding the energy to raise your hips to present yourself to him, wiggling them back and forth. “Why don’t you come get some? Straight from the source.” 

Steve’s eyes go wide with shock. “Really? That’s okay?”

“Of course it is,” you say with a chuckle. “Why would it not be?”

Steve wants to bring up how his ex would only let him go down on her when they had the time, which wasn’t often for two full time parents. But, he didn’t want to bring the mood down by bringing up his wife or how he felt like he might have been bad at it since she never wanted it.

“I just, uh, wanted to make sure. That’s all.”

“Okay,” you say, moving your hips playfully, “Less talking and more doing then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve salutes before diving in tongue first. The taste of you is like divine nectar in his mouth. Something he could see himself getting addicted to if given the opportunity. 

Flattening the thick muscle, he pushes it between your folds and licks a long stripe from your clit to your hole, letting the tip catch on it teasingly. He feels your body shiver under him, sending a confidence boost through his veins that encourages him to keep going.

Another quicker swipe through, but this time he lets his tongue slip into you completely. His thumb makes its way back to your clit, working it in tandem with his tongue in a way that makes you dizzy. Then, they switch places, his lips wrapping around your bud to lick and suck while his fingers curl inside you, his nose right up against your slit.

Steve feels the way you squeeze around him, familiar enough now that he knows your third orgasm is quickly approaching. But the thought of not feeling you cum on his cock has him pulling away from you all together. He laughs when you let out a whine, only for it to turn into a moan when he pushes the head of his cock inside you. He watches the way it pops in, disappearing in your tight cunt as you suck him in.

He wants to take his time with you, but the way you push back against him has him laughing. “Okay, I’m sorry, sweet girl. No more—teasing.” He punctuates the last word with a snap of his hips, thrusting all the way inside of you. His heavy balls audibly slap against your clit. 

Steve manhandles your hips until they’re just where he likes them and begins to pound into you. Not too aggressive, but hard enough that his bed frame hits the wall with every thrust. Your vocalizations echo off the walls in competition, and he’s never been so thankful that his kids were staying with their mom for the weekend, because he doesn’t know what he would do if he had to tell you to stay quiet like he was used to.

“Fuck! Fuck! Steve! Oh my god, fuck me, Steve!”

Steve is sure he can taste blood from how hard he’s biting his bottom lip. His mind feels like it’s turning to mush again, pussy drunk from how right it feels to be inside you. Biology be damned, but he couldn’t deny it.

Slumping forward, Steve’s arms wrap around you and pin you to the mattress below him. His nose presses into the back of your neck, nostrils flaring again as your sweet scent fills them up. Drool spills from his mouth and onto your skin, and every fiber of his being is screaming at him to bite down onto that sensitive spot. He lets a canine drag against it, and he sees the goosebumps forming on your skin. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

Steve feels you cum on his cock, body shaking and eyes rolling back as you cry out. It’s all too much for Steve, bringing him to the edge where he’s about to cum himself. 

He goes to pull out, but struggles as your body pins his arms under you. “Shit, shit!” He panics, only managing to pull out about halfway, unable to stop himself from cumming inside of you. 

Steve knows that he should feel bad, and he probably will once he finally stops cumming. But, at the same time, he’s pretty sure he’s never cum so hard in his life. And before he knows it, he feels the blood rushing into the base of his cock where it begins to swell. He pulls out of you just enough that his knot sits snugly against your hole, practically begging to be inside of you.

“Holy shit, did you knot?” You pant against his bed sheets, turning your body to look back at him.

“Y-yeah,” He pushes himself off of you, sitting back on his knees. He looks at the way his knot is pressed against your entrance, feeling only a slight resistance when he rocks forward a bit.

“I’m surprised you pulled it out,” you say, giving him a look that he isn’t sure how to read. Heat creeps all over his body as the guilt starts to set in.

“I was trying to pull all the way out, I promise. I’m so sorry. We can stop at the drugstore on the way back to your car and—”

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay.” 

He feels the way you push back into his knot, rocking back and forth on his still hard length while his cum subtly starts to leak out of you. 

“Yeah?” He asks again, eyes locked on his knot as you work yourself open on it. You’re so tight, but he can feel the resistance starting to give. Maybe if he just…

“Oh my god!” You squeal out. With one hard thrust, Steve was able to push his knot fully inside of you until it locks in place. Whether it be the natural connection between an alpha and an omega or, if your pussy was just that good, Steve can’t help but cum again, filling your already stuffed pussy up with more of his seed. 

“It’s…it’s..”

“What is it, Stevie baby,” you ask in a sugary sweet voice, mind clearly on cloud nine from the soft look on your face. 

“It’s just, it’s been so long…so long since I’ve felt like…”

“Awe, come’er,” you motion for him to lay with you, and Steve follows your command, taking you in a strong arm and maneuvering you both comfortably onto your sides. Underneath the covers, the two of you hold each other like you’ve been doing this for years rather than being a random Sunday afternoon hookup. The hairs of his mustache tickle the skin on your shoulder where he leaves kisses over and over again.

The two of you are quiet as you lay there in his bed. Steve’s mind races as the post nut clarity kicks in. Guilt plagues his brain first, but not in the way he thought it would. He thought he would feel guilty about sleeping with someone he didn’t vow his life to almost 20 years ago, but that’s not the case. Instead he feels guilty wishing he’d not wasted all those years with someone who couldn’t make him feel like this. All those years of putting her needs first…

“Are those your daughters?”

Steve’s head pops up to look over yours. Following your gaze, he sees the picture in question—well, he can’t see it clearly, his glasses being lost in the shuffle to get here. But, he knows what picture you’re talking about. It’s a picture of him and his two daughters, Hailey and Kristina, at their soccer tournament when they were 9 and 7 respectively. Their team had won 2nd place, but the both of them didn’t care because their dad had shown up to watch them play. It’s one of his favorite pictures of the three of them.

“Yeah, those are my girls,” Steve says with pride.

“They’re cute.” You look back at him with a smile, “They definitely get their looks from you.”

Steve feels the heat on his cheeks and ducks his head. “Thank you. Do, uh, do you have any kids?”

“Nope,” you say with a shake of your head. “Well, not yet at least.”

“Again, I am so, so sorry—” You bark out a laugh at his embarrassment and Steve tries to ignore the way you squeeze him.

“I’m just teasing, Steve.”

“Oh-okay,” he settles, daring to squeeze you a little tighter to him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you say excitedly, taking his hand in yours and rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

“Well, okay actually it’s, like, a series of questions. But, I guess the first one is…why me?”

“Why you? Like, why did I sleep with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Um, partly because you’re, like, really, really hot.”

Steve laughs at that, “Should’ve seen me when I was your age.”

“I’m sure you were super hot then, too. But you look like one of those guys who gets better with age.”

“Thanks…”

“Anyway, I also slept with you because you’re always really nice when you and your friend come in. I thought maybe you were, but honestly I couldn’t tell if you were flirting with me or not. I also wasn’t sure if you and her were dating and I didn’t want to embarrass myself so I never said anything. But when you pheromone bombed me earlier…I had to take my break because I thought I was going to go into heat.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about that, too,” Steve internally scolds himself for forgetting about that. “Forty two years old and I can’t even contain myself. Acting like I’m a newly presenting alpha again.”

“It’s okay…honestly it was kinda hot. That’s why when I saw you leaving, I thought ‘Fuck it, might as well shoot my shot.’ Glad I did.”

Steve is trying his damnedest to stay collected, he really is. But the more you talk about wanting to pursue him, the more he feels like he needs to get away from you before he falls for you. He knows it’s just the pheromones and the fact that he hasn’t felt wanted since Becca left him, but damn does it feel good to have someone want him.

He feels you snuggle back against him. You look over your shoulder at him with a sly expression. 

“Ready for round two already?” You say with a teasing lit. His eyes go wide.

“What?” He asks with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m just kidding,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him.  “Just felt like you got harder when I was talking about how I wanted you.”

Steve sucks in a breath. “I mean, if I can get this knot to go down enough…” It’s been a long while since Steve’s been able to go for a second round. But, he’s pretty sure he’d do anything you asked him right now.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind this for a little bit longer.”

The two of you ended up fucking for a good majority of the afternoon. At some point Steve fell asleep inside you, leaving you to scroll through his barely touched instagram until his knot went down again. He warned you that pictures of his wife were still on there since he didn’t know how to delete them. But when you told him you didn’t care about his past he ended up fucking you again, which is how you ended up in the position you’re in now.

When Steve rouses from his nap, he’s sad to find you not in bed with him. It felt good having someone to share his bed with again. A king size mattress is too big for only one person to occupy Steve has thought many nights now.

Steve puts on a pair of gray sweats and a tee shirt and searches the house for you. He gets a little nervous when he doesn’t find you anywhere. With a slight panic, he runs back to his room and checks his clothes from earlier. When everything was still in his pockets he grabbed his phone to see if you’d texted him that you were leaving. That was until he remembered that he never asked for your number…

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, he grabs his phone and taps the screen. The picture of Hailey and Kristina opening gifts at Robin’s house over Christmas break comes up, making him smile. But when he looks at the bottom of the screen, he sees the little notification bubble and scrolls up. 

His eyes widen when he sees your name attached to a text message. He opens the message quickly, squinting his eyes to see the screen without his glasses on. 

wanted a smoke so I’m sitting in your car hope that’s okay ♥️

Steve is up instantly, grabbing his coat and house slippers before pushing out the front door. He saw you in his passenger seat, bundled up in your coat with a cigarette still lit between your fingers. You were on the phone with someone, distracted as you looked out the front window. He could hear you speaking with someone through the cracked window.

“Yeah, the older guy. The divorced one…Girl, oh my goooooood…I will when I see you later. He’s so hot though…I don’t know. I kinda hope so. Like I’m sure my parents would be so pissed if I started dating a guy in his 40s…I don’t know. But girl we went at it for hooouuuursss, so I hope so.”

Steve was sure his face was the same shade of red as a tomato. He could hardly believe a girl was sitting in his car talking about how much she liked him to presumably one of her friends. And you were talking about dating?

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

The words come out on their own. Your head snaps to look at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. You mutter a quick good bye to your friend and open the car door.

“S-sorry, I was talking to my friend. What did you say?”

Steve debated on back tracking. There’s no way you could be serious about liking him, so why embarrass himself, or even scare you off by taking things further. You were right, you were old enough that your parents wouldn’t approve even if you both wanted it. As a father of two girls, he can’t help but think about how he would feel if one of them brought home someone at least 15 years older than them…

“Steve?” The way you looked at him had him folding in an instant.

“I asked if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

A smile played at the ends of your mouth. “Really?” You ask coyly. “This isn’t just some little fantasy thing for you? Older man hooking up with a younger girl to make himself feel better?” Steve shook his head.

“God, no. Those aren’t my intentions at all.” Steve’s hand reaches out for yours, which you gladly take, swinging them between the two of you. Steve clears his throat before looking you in the eye as he speaks.

“I’m not the type of guy that does…” He gestures vaguely towards his house. “Does the hook up thing. At least I haven’t been in a good while.”

“I knew you were a player when you were younger,” you say with a cheeky smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs.

“I saw a picture that your friend Robin tagged you in on her instagram of the two of you back in the day and…” You gave him a look that made him duck his head. 

“I guess you could say that I was a bit more debaucherous back in my early twenties. But, I think the longevity of my marriage should stand as testament that I am capable of being a loyal, faithful partner to the right person.”

“And you want to see if I could be a candidate for that “right person” position?”

“Mmm, that sounds like you’d need to convince me.” He pulls you into him, looking down at you as you’re pressed against him. “But I’m pretty sure you’ve already got me hooked on you. Just need to prove to you that this old man is worth keeping around.”

The way your smile crinkles your eyes as you look up at him has Steve’s heart fluttering. And when you reach up to kiss him, that fluttering swells into a blooming warmth that runs through his veins the second your lips touch.

“Well, when and where does this “old man,” you echo his words with finger quotes, “want to have this date, hmm?”

The two of you iron out the details over a smoke in Steve’s warm car, and continue to talk well past the setting of the sun. Eventually, Steve takes you back to your car, where the two of you make out parked next to it until you’re pretty sure you hear your closing coworkers coming out the back door from the end of shift.

Steve makes you promise to text him when you get home to make sure you got there safe. You throw a casual “sure thing, dad” at him, and as he watched you get in your car he has to question himself as to why he liked you calling him that…

thank you for reading.

#steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader #older!steve harrington #older!steve harrington x reader #older!steve harrington x younger!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #omegaverse #a/b/o

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

#cotl #cult of the lamb #famous prophets au #alternate universe #shamura #heket #kallamar #narinder #the one who waits #leshy #comic #violence tw #blood tw

[milla-frenchy]

Glory O

2k1 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3 Summary: you work in a brothel, and two guys want to try something new Warnings: 18+ mdni. pwp. Glory hole, sex work, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering, jacking off, spitting, piv, cumplay, creampies, gun threat (not against reader) No age specified.  a/n: thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta reading 💕 and @toxicanonymity for the spanish translation🖤

Masterlist

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

“Let’s try this one” was the first thing you heard when they came in. You were lying on your back, the upper part of your body was hidden behind a thin wall, leaving your pussy and legs exposed. 

A hand rested on your thigh and you shivered. Even though you had been working there for several months, the first contact always made your heart rate accelerate. Hand pressure was often characteristic of how you were going to be fucked. Often, but not always. A gentle caress like the one at that moment, could lead to a rough or painful fucking. Or a boring one. 

The hand brushed against your skin, thumb facing your inner thigh.

“What do you think?”, you heard a man with a Chilean accent.

“Yeah, sure. You go first”, a voice with an American accent replied.

“You really like to jerk off while I fuck them, right?”

The other man chuckled, not denying it. The client next to you unzipped his jeans, then you heard the friction of clothes sliding slightly. He probably had his pants pulled down just below his balls. He put his hands on you, and when he positioned himself between your thighs, you felt a warm, hard cock pressed against your pussy. You held your breath, ready to take his cock like this, without preparation. Like you always had to do.

But he hesitated, staying there for a few seconds, his shaft against your folds. Then you heard him tuck his cock in his pants without zipping them up. His thumb spread your folds and you heard “mmmm…gorgeous. Steve, look at that.”

Footsteps came closer, and a low whistle echoed through the room.

“Yep, can’t wait to fill her up.”

You swallowed, waiting for what was going to happen. 

You suddenly heard the noises coming from the nearby partitions. For a moment, you forgot that you weren't alone. Other women were being fucked, and you easily recognized the noises feigning pleasure. You always did the same, wanting the fucking to end quickly. 

When you felt a warm breath against your pussy and a mustache brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs, you snapped out of your thoughts and whimpered. The man grabbed the back of your knees and moved you towards him as far as the opening would allow, before resting one of your legs on his shoulder. His thumb brushed up and down your folds and you heard him inhale. When his tongue licked between your folds in one stroke, you moaned.

“Already wet”, he murmured.

Two men in the brothel together to fuck you could be intimidating, or degrading, but this time you were slightly less guarded than usual. He was still brushing your folds with his thumb, and you got even wetter. His finger was as sensual as his hand on your thigh, he was good at it. He brushed his finger over your clit, twirling it delicately under his skin.

“Fuck,” you muttered. That was new. They rarely took the time to make you come, and his touch was truly perfect.

“You like that, Cariño (honey)? Gonna come for me?”

His thumbs spread your folds again, then his tongue ran over them, in long strokes from bottom to top, several times.

“Oh my god”, you whimpered in your breath.

He buried his tongue in your pussy, as far as he could, his hands holding your thighs. You felt like in less than two minutes you were going to come and you covered your mouth with your hand of surprise. 

“Want a taste, Steve?”

“Not yet.”

The man put your other knee on his shoulder, still fucking you with his tongue, grunting between your thighs. You heard “Steve” unzip his pants, then spit.

The man between your thighs moved up to your clit with his tongue, and he circled it with his lips, sucking gently. His middle finger brushed against your entrance, covering it with your wetness. When he pushed it in gently, the tip of his tongue swirled over your clit. Quickly, he pushed in a second finger, slowly pumping your pussy with his digits. You grabbed one of your breasts as you were already coming. Quickly, so quickly, that you didn’t really understand that it was going to happen. You wondered if the other men fucking the women heard the difference in tone between your moans and theirs.

“That’s good, bebé (baby). I’m gonna fuck you now.” You heard his hand rubbing against his mustache, probably to wipe it. You wondered what he looked like. What they looked like.

He stood up and placed his hand on your hip. His cock in the other one, he rubbed himself against your folds, covering the entire length of his shaft with your wetness, and bringing it up to rub against your clit. Your sensitivity made you gasp every time he touched it. Finally, he placed his tip to your entrance and pushed, making you moan. When the crown of his cock plunged through your entrance, you heard him growl. His dick was thick and you felt your folds part as it passed through them. Both of his hands were now on your hips, he pulled back before hitting the bottom, then thrusted again, all the way in, and you gasped.

“How is she?” asked Steve.

“Good. Fucking good. Chose the perfect one.”

His hands dug into your flesh, his body slamming against yours at a perfect pace.

“Come see this. How her pussy is taking my cock.”

You heard his footsteps, and his proximity allowed you to hear his wrist fucking his cock, too.

“You’re doin’ great, baby. Sucking his cock right in.”

He jerked off faster.

“Shit, all that cream around your cock Javi…you’re giving it to her good.”

You imagined them, their eyes fixed on your dripping pussy. When you felt another hand on your body, you thought you were wavering. Steve caressed your skin, while Javi was still fucking you. Steve slid his hand up to your clit, brushing it gently, and you moaned.

“Shh, you’re ok baby. I’m gonna touch you gently, ain’t gonna hurt you. Ok?”

“Ok”, you murmured, finally giving yourself the right to talk to them.

“Don’t want you to come yet. Can you hold back for me?”, asked Steve.

“I’m…I’m gonna try.”

“Good girl.”

The double stimulation made you clench on Javi’s cock.

“Fuck”, he grumbled. “She’s squeezing my dick. Mierda…(shit).”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna shoot your load already? Her pussy’s that good?”

“Oh, fuck you! Yeah, she’s that good. You’ll see when you are inside her, smartass.”

He kept thrusting in, his cock was hitting your G-spot. Steve leaned down and placed his lips on your clit and this time you thought you were going to faint. His tongue was applying a perfect pressure and they both were driving you crazy. You felt your pussy clench desperately.

“Fuck, fuck…” Still thrusting in, you heard Javi groan louder and louder. 

“Then it’ll be Steve’s turn, you’re gonna take both of our cocks, right? Gonna fill that pussy with our cum.”

“Yes, yes please…”

Your pussy was clenching and you couldn’t stop it. You felt Javi’s cock twitch inside you, he grumbled “I’m gonna fill you up” and finally he froze, sending spurts of cum deep inside your walls. The sounds of other men's moving bodies, their grunts, were filling the room. 

Once he emptied his balls, he withdrew and spread the cum that was flowing out along your folds with his cock. Then he pulled away, and Steve’s hands were on you. He surprised you too, when he leaned down towards you and twirled his tongue around your clit again. You wondered if Javi had smeared his cum on it, if Steve was tasting him on you. He spread your folds with his thumbs, and you felt some cum leaking down. He stood aside to look. Since they had entered the room, they had behaved differently from all the men who had fucked you so far. The way they were touching you, fucking you, made you tremble. 

Steve slid his middle finger over your folds, spreading more of Javi’s cum, making you hold your breath. Then he stood up, and grabbed his cock.

“Look at that Javi. You’re right, her cunt is gorgeous. And even more beautiful covered with cum.”

He ran his cock along your entrance, soaking it with your wetness and Javi’s cum. You were used to multiple creampies, when several men fucked you in a row. But this sensuality, their playful attitude, was new to you. Steve pushed in, and its girth made you gasp.

“Mmmm, it's good, baby. My cock’s covered by both of you. How hot is that…”

You thought you were going to come just from hearing him, and your pussy tightened around his cock.

“Fuck…don't make me come too quickly. Wanna fuck this pussy properly.”

“Sorry”, you murmured.

“Don't be sorry. Love hearing your little moans. Very different from those of your friends, mmm?”

“Yeah…yeah, fuck.”

“We’re fucking you good, you don't need to fake it…is that right?”

“Yeah, you’re fucking me good. Love your cocks.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I bet you do.”

You heard another voice, neither Steve nor Javi.

“Andale, cabrón. Toman demasiado tiempo. Queremos cogerla también.” (Come on, man. You guys are taking too long. We wanna fuck her too.)

Steve froze, and asked Javi “What did he say?”, who translated to him.

“We’re not done, man. Pick another girl, move!” He raised his hand, to tell them to fuck off. But it didn’t stop the man:

“Voy a llamar al jefe y él va a sacarlos. Nosotros ya pagamos para cogerla. No pueden tenerla solo para ustedes.” (I'm gonna call the boss, he’s gonna throw you out. We already paid to fuck her. You can't keep her to yourself like that!)

This time, you translated for him. He pulled out of you, and tucked his cock in his pants. You heard a loud noise, and guessed that Steve pinned the other man against the wall. He had difficulty breathing, Steve was probably holding him by the throat. You heard a click of a gun: the security was removed.

“Yo soy tu patrón. ¿Sí?” (I am your boss, yes?)

“¡Está bien! Está bien! ¡Yo hago lo que ustedes digan!” (It’s ok, it���s ok! I’ll do whatever you say)

“¿Sí?” (yeah?)

Steve threw the man to the ground, then put the gun back in his shoulder holster before coming back to you.

Javi pointed his finger to the other men who were waiting, and said “Cállanse, todos. Ahora ella es nuestra. Entienden?” (Fuck off, all of you. She’s ours, for now. Understand?)

There were a few murmurs, then footsteps receded.

“Sorry ‘bout that, baby. Fucking animals.”

Steve thrusted into you after pulling out his cock. He was still hard as steel, as if he enjoyed the adrenaline of the fight. Knowing that he had a gun on him while he was fucking you turned you on, even if you couldn’t see it.

He was fucking you harder, faster. Sometimes slowing down to look at his cock digging into you. Covered in Javi's cum. He leaned forward slightly and let his saliva flow onto your clit, before twirling it under his thumb.

“You’re gonna come for me too, baby? Can’t fill you up if I didn’t make you come. That ain’t good southern manners.”

You felt he was close but he didn’t slow down his pace. Thrusting his thick cock in you, his body slamming against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. He spat on your clit this time, and you felt another orgasm building.

“You’re doing great, Cariño. So good for our cocks. Bet you’d like us to fuck you again. Maybe you’d suck our cocks next time.”

He heard you moaning, and chuckled.

“Yeah? You’d like that, one of our cocks in your mouth and the other one in your cunt? Stuffing you from behind, making you choke on that dick?”

“Javi, what the hell…I’m tryin’ to hold on here!”

The last thing you heard before you came was Javi tapping on Steve’s shoulder. Your pussy squeezed his shaft, and that's all he was waiting for to come deep inside your core, mixing his cum with Javi's, as your spasms were milking his cock.

“You didn’t do better than me, smartass.”

They both chuckled, until Steve pulled out, breathing loudly, and the two stood in front of your open, exposed, dripping pussy. Javi spread your folds, and their cum flowed out.

“Fuck, that’s hot, man.”

“Yeah, we fucked her good.”

***********

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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***********

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javi peña x reader x steve murphy #javi peña #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #narcos #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #steve murphy x reader x javier pena #steve murphy x reader x javier peña #steve murphy x reader x javi peña #steve murphy #narcos fanfic #narcos smut #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #boyd holbrook #friends of juice collective #boyd-a-thon

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #firefighter!joel #Joel Miller au #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I have an idea for a tangerine x fem!reader, i was thinking a Mr and Mrs smith idea. So reader is married to tan and is also a contact killer/assassin but he doesn’t know this until he finds her on the train holding the briefcase

Then yanno the usual sexual tension and witty remarks 🤩

Thank youuuu

Unexpected

THE MR AND MRS SMITH REFRENVE IS EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN YOU KNOW THAT BRAD PITT PLAYED JOHN LMFAOO

Tangerine tried his best to keep his job away from you, it was hard but he did it.

You also tried to keep your job away from him, you both usually called and sometimes maybe on a weekend if you both weren’t busy.

You both lived busy lives, sure. But you still found time for each other, and still loved each other very much.

So it was very, extremely unexpected to see each other on the train.

You and your partner Ladybug walked around.

You noticed someone, and recognized him. As you guys were about to leave the train, A familiar face stopped you.

You both quickly ran onto the train.

“That’s my husbands brother!” You whispered.

“What? He shot me, like.. twice!” He whisper yelled back, and you both quickly ran away.

“So, let me get this straight, your husbands brother is just coincidentally on this train, and he’s also a contract killer. What the fuck does your husband do?”

“He said he just works in an office job!”

“So uh, you can’t really like freak out or anything because this is just a guess, but I’m pretty sure that he and his brother were the two who did that one Bolivia job.”

“You mean the one where they wiped out the white deaths crew?”

“Yeah..”

“Oh my god. I’ve been lied to my whole marriage.”

“Technically you’ve been lying too. Y’Know it would really help to process this-“

“Shut up!” You said, and pushed ladybug aside as you saw your husband walking towards you both.

“Right, right, sorry.” He said as you both hid.

“He doesn’t know. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’m about to be divorced.”

“No you won’t. Just talk it out-“ he hid in a storage area. You flicked him off and hid against a wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He walked in, and he immediately saw you. It wasn’t exactly subtle.

He said your name, confused. You opened your eyes.

“Ta-da…” you said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Work trip.”

“Me too.”

You both stared in silence as his phone rang. He answered it, still looking at you. You couldn’t hear what the other guy was saying.

After he hung up, he put his phone back in his pocket.

“I’m glad to see you, I haven’t seen you in a few days. But… seriously, what are you doing here?” He cleared his throat after a while.

“Like you said, work trip.”

He narrowed his eyes, and ladybug swore he could cut the tension with a knife. He felt as if he was watching some weird romantic action movie.

“Right, well, you should probably get off next stop. Lotta traffic after next stop…” he said.

You sighed and looked at ladybug for a second then back to him.

“I know you’re an assassin.” You said.

“Love, that is ridiculous-“ he said, way too quickly.

“Before you say anything- I am too. And I’m sorry for lying.”

“I’m not-“

“Seriously? You’re still lying?”

He felt guilty now.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m sorry for lying too.”

“So… you did the Bolivia job?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, maybe he wouldn’t notice ladybug in the back.

“Well, uh, just- be careful, alright? We’ll talk when we get home.” You said.

“Yeah… you here for the case?” He asked.

“No. I came here to kill the wolf.” You lied.

“Alright.” He sighed, and fixed his mustache in the mirror, still not noticing ladybug.

“Love you.” He said, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving.

“Love you too.”

Ladybug groaned and moved. He stood in front of you now.

“Well, now we’re fucked.”

“Yup.”

“Y’Know, there was a lotta sexual tension there. It was so weird-“

“Shut it.”

“Yup, yup, sorry.”

#bullet train #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train x reader #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #aaron taylor johnson x reader

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Obedience

My friend had gone home for the summer and returned all kinds of fucked up. At first when he had come back, I hardly recognized him. Gone was the twig who had sat on the bench for his high school football team. He looked and acted like he had been the star player. He, however, refused to acknowledge anything was different. For weeks he was talking up how he wanted to hit the dating scene in town, and he had gone home a few nights with some guys from the bars, but he always said after they weren’t what he was looking for.

After weeks of this I finally had swung by his apartment for the first time since he was back. Even here, where abandoned crafts and junk food was usually scattered, the place was filled with video games, protein powders, and the spare bedroom had been converted into an at home gym. When I arrived, he was in a white tank, a common look these days. He was hooking up the video game system for us to play a few rounds of Madden.

Whatever it was, I was quickly bored with the game and we moved to watching a movie. For the first time in a while it felt nice to feel comfortable with him, and began relaxing. It was about then that he wrapped his arm around me. Eventually, we were softly cuddled on the couch as I began feeling a way I hadn’t since I broke it off with my GF.

Something about the way his arms were soft and strong just felt so right. This close I smelled his worn through deodorant and musk, as I slowly felt myself melt into his arms, nuzzled into his pit. I felt myself slowly slip away as he turned to me and gently kissed my neck.

“Get up,” he said. Softly but firmly. Dream like, I followed his command as I wandered after him into the home gym.

As I laid down on the bench, he handed me a pair of goggles, instructing me to slip them on. As I did, a pleasant spiral was set in front of my eyes. He then began rubbing my body, whispering instructions in my ear. “I have been looking for a new partner for a while. So many had such promise but turned out to be such failures. But you are going to be my good boy, so strong, cute, and obedient.”

My mind perked up when he said that, but quickly he re-positioned himself on top of me and fixed his pits back under my nose.

Between the overwhelming smell, the spiral, and the feeling of his body now pressed against mine, my mind could only accept what happened next.

I could feel my body begin to grow. It started in my feet, stretching across the floor. Then up my calves, on fire as they swelled nice and strong. It hit my thighs and ass, swelling with a mixture of muscle and fat that raised my body off the bench. My stomach slimmed slightly as new pecs pushed out begging to be grabbed. A slight tickle creeped as hair pushed out, leaving my torso nice and fuzzy. Thick ropes of muscle wrapped around my arms as my fingers held tightly onto my…boyfriend’s? back. My face reshaped to support a handsome jawline and a strong beard and mustache. As the changes wrapped tightly around my mind, I felt years of studies and memories slowly drain down into my growing pouch. My balls quickly swelled, begging for release as my mind was left much better, simply focused on the most important thing: my boyfriend and making him happy.

He carefully climbed off, slipped the mask off my face, and looked at his new half.

“God babe you’re so fucking hot”

I stood up and answered him with a kiss. He simply picked me up and took me into the bedroom. I submitted, ready for the release that would cement me as his.

Over the next few weeks, we continued to train, game, and make out. He quickly got me on a plan to keep me growing for him. I was more than happy to oblige. I have no memories before him. My boyfriend is my world. And he lets me know after every work out how hard his life would be without me.

#straight to gay #male transformation #bro #hypnosis #transformation #fml

[ddejavvu]

Touch starved pilots of your choice cuddling their s/o headcanons

characters written: pete 'maverick' mitchell, nick 'goose' bradshaw, tom 'iceman' kazansky, ron 'slider' kerner, leonard 'wolfman' wolfe, rick 'hollywood' neven, beau 'cyclone' simpson, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, jake 'hangman' seresin, natasha 'phoenix' trace, robert 'bob' floyd, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, reuben 'payback' fitch

sfw, but cut for length. enjoy!

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell:

depends on what age you're thinking!

if it's young!mav, he's probably just a liiiitle reluctant to let himself relax sometimes

he's sort of got his tough guy persona, and he's not used to dropping it, so when you get him alone he tries messing around at first

whether that's a few too many kisses, or a pinch to your side, he guards himself a bit before letting himself go

but when he does, oh, he's like a little kitten !

he lets you run your hands through his gelled hair (gross)

and it gets all misshapen and spiky

he probably just melts when you pet his hair like that, and he'll be snoozing on your chest in no time

now older!mav is definitely less of a tough nut to crack

he probably initiates the cuddling in the first place, he nudges you over to the bed and lays himself on top of you to crush you

you can push at his chest and splutter all you want, but he's made his choice on where he's going to lay, and it's on you

he likes holding you, but he wants to be face-to-face, so you can brush noses and bump foreheads

he probably tries sooo hard to stay awake so that he can soak in the time you're spending together but peepaw definitely crashes like 10 minutes in

Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw:

he also likes to be face to face!

buuut not for the same sweet reason as mav

he just wants to itch you with his mustache

he likes nipping at you too, he bites your nose to make you laugh

you won't be getting any sleep when you cuddle with goose, he just wants to talk and laugh and hold you the entire time

it's not a period of time to wind down, it's a big laugh-fest

and god FORBID you try to get up to pee

“Nick, I have to go.” / “Sorry, honey. I can’t let go. I think my hand’s stuck.” / “NICK!!”

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky

he’s another one who probably has just a bit of trouble letting his guard down

he’ll cuddle with you no doubt, but he’ll probably always keep you in his lap or have some sort of upper hand in the embrace

it takes a while before he’s ready to be held himself

when he does finally give in it's so soft and sweet :')

he's had a really hard day and he comes home with his eyes drooping

you've planned a movie night but he doesn't even look like he could sit through an episode of a tv show

so you lead him to bed instead, and tell him you're sleepy, cause he won't 'ruin' the night by admitting that he is

you ask to play with his hair and he lets you, but he's not sure why 'cause you just said you were tired??

you basically have to trick him into being held but once his head is on your chest and your hands are in his hair he's gone.

he ends up mumbling something all sleepy and groggy like 'mm, that's nice' and his eyes are half shut and he's so endearingly tired :')

he wants you to do it all the time now, I'd say it's about 50/50 whether you fall asleep holding him or he falls asleep holding you

Ron 'Slider' Kerner:

slider's a big boy!!!!!!!

he's big and tall and muscly, the perfect cuddle buddy

he's probably more inclined to hold than be held

but he likes it when you face him so you can wrap your arms around his back :')

he probably likes it when he's able to bury his face in your neck/shoulder/against the top of your head

like he always wants his face snuggled in somewhere warm and nice smelling

and it just so happens his chest is an excellent place to get lost yourself

so you most of the time just nuzzle right into each other and get to snoozin'

i think he'd talk real soft, too, he'd murmur against your ear while you're drifting off, probably boring you to sleep with technical details of his flights but just before you crash for the night he slips in a little 'i love you, honey' and <33333

Leonard 'Wolfman' Wolfe:

he's a loser for his partner it has to be said

almost as teasing as nick is but not quite

he'll let you fall asleep he just wants to talk to you AllTheTime because he LovesYouSoMuch

he's a chatterbox and you'll be lucky if you get to sleep at a decent hour

he really likes it when you lay your head on his chest

'cause he likes playing with your hair and your face :]

sometimes he'll just use you as a little stress toy and squeeze your cheeks and pinch your nose and poke at your forehead

always making silly little jokes and telling you all about his day

down to, like, every comment one of his friends made...

'and then slider said he was gonna kill him but hollywood ran, so then they were just chasing each other around and iceman said-' / 'babe.. can we sleep? please?' / 'oh! right, sorry baby.'

Rick 'Hollywood' Neven

listen there's a reason he and wolfman get along so well

they're BOTH teases!!!

cuddling with hollywood is not really relaxing, because he's always pinching your sides or putting his nasty cold feet all over you, or pretending to knock you out by fake-punching you a bunch

you're just laying there and he's 'punching' your stomach, making fake punch sounds with his mouth, and if you push him away he'll pretend you've absolutely knocked him out, tumbling down onto the mattress with this dramatic thump and closing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of his mouth like he's a dead cartoon character 😭

he's like a dog you have to get his energy out before trying to rest with him or he just Won't Rest

when you DO get him sleepy, though, he's kinda incoherent when he's tired, so you'll be cuddled up together, maybe you're scratching his back, maybe he's playing with your hair, and he's just sort of mumbling nonsense until he finally drifts off to sleep

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson:

will not be held

sorry! not happening

he's just so big and beefy and authoritative that he doesn't much enjoy being coddled

he loves cuddling with you though, he gets very relaxed just laying with you

he's a casual toucher, i think, so you can rest your head on his shoulder at the airport, you can hold his hand at restaurants, whether that be over or under the table, he lets you hang all over him however you want

he's not super into in-your-face PDA, though, so you'll have to be polite and considerate about it

actually in bed though, under the blankets at night?

he's so much more cuddly than you'd expect

he wraps his big strong arms around you and tugs you close and lets you melt all over him <33

your favorite place to lay your head is probably his chest 'cause it's so broad and firm and nice <3

he's a good back rubber so cuddles are always soft and cozy and sleepy

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw:

lord he's a cuddler

he's just a touchy guy, because he's probably gone without it for a significant amount of time so now that he's got you he's gonna enjoy it

big big big on pda, doesn't really care who sees

so that means cuddling in public, too

perfectly content to sit by the beach with you in his lap all cuddled back into his chest he doesn't care if anyone teases him

but back in bed he's a sucker for head scratches

if you have long-ish nails, enough to scratch at his scalp, he'll literally melt over you like an ice cream cone

his limbs go all gooey and he flops his head down on your chest, groaning and grunting while you scratch through his hair

he really enjoys sleeping on top of you, whether that be fully chest-to-chest 'you're suffocating me' cuddling or just an arm thrown over your stomach while he lays on his own

he likes being held, too, but probably prefers to hold unless he's having a hard day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin:

big boy!! surprisingly fond of being held for everything we know about him

that cocky demeanor does not last under the sheets

he adores holding you, of course, he'll wrap his big arms around you and cradle your head to his chest

he probably plays with your hair, looooves it when you tangle your legs up with his own

he prefers if you talk to him rather than him talk to you if you're cuddling

cause he likes the sound of your voice and he loves hearing about your day

he tries to listen so attentively to what you're saying, but if you're taking a little too long telling him about that batty old customer that had visited the shop you work at today, his eyes are going to slowly start to droop and he's gonna let out a big ol yawn that means it's time for him to close his eyes

you always cut yourself off like 'sorry, jake. g'head, go to sleep'

and he insists you continue like 'nooo darlin' i wanna hear! keep going :]' except within two minutes he's dozing against the pillow while you talk about the old lady again

he's a simple man just talk soft and slow to him while snuggled up in his arms and he's gonna sleep no matter what you're telling him

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace:

she really likes laying face-to-face with you!!

she's a fan of spooning, of course, she likes either burying her face in your back or letting you snuggle into hers

but she loves the intimacy that comes from being pretty much nose-to-nose with you

the type to lay there and chat with you mere inches away so that you're leaning in to kiss her all giggly and bashful every four seconds

she uses your cuddle time to tell you all about her teammates, what stupid shit jake said today, how bob almost tripped down the stairs, that fanboy's got a new girlfriend who wants to meet you, etc etc etc

but that means when you see them next you know all of the hot gossip about everyone and you giggle every time jake says something dumb and he's like WHAT.. WHAT IS IT.. WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME.. and you give nat this little ;) 'cause you'll definitely be talking shit about him later

she does this thing where she cradles the back of your head in her hand if you're face to face and she throws her leg over your waist and it gives you such intense butterflies that you need to close your eyes sometimes <3333

Robert 'Bob' Floyd:

cuddlebug <3

he loooves cuddling but if you do it face-to-face he's gonna need to be super close to you because he can't see without his glasses 😭

i'm taking like nose-to-nose so close that you have to cross your eyes to see him

otherwise he's pretty chill in what positions he likes

you love it when he reads to you

i think he might not be the most confident reader out loud but he does it anyways 'cause it puts you to sleep

he gets really sleepy really easily so sometimes it's best to refrain from cuddling in public

like you're out on the beach by a firepit and you're all snuggled up together but oops he can't enjoy his smores because he's sleeping on your shoulder

he loves it when you lay your head on his shoulder sm :'))

he wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer <3

Javy 'Coyote' Machado:

prefers holding to being held

probably a little less talkative than the rest, but that doesn't mean you never chat

he just has this insane ability to fall asleep anywhere, i'm talking slumped against the bus window, leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, piloting his aircraft sorry

he likes staring at you, though, while he falls asleep :')

if you're talking to him he'll listen and nod and hum along and agree when he should, he's a very good listener

but slowly he'll start to fade a bit, and he'll sling his hand over your waist, smush his face into the pillow, and keep listening for as long as he can

slooooowly you start getting less responses from him, he's not reacting as much, but his eyes are always locked onto your face and he's got this lazy little smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep 'cause he gets to look at you the whole time :')

loverboy!!

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia:

the most talkative in the whole wide world

cuddling with him is barely even cuddling, it's watching him act out his entire day

'and then payback went like this and- BAM! shot it down.'

and he's up on his knees in the middle of the bed with his arms out demonstrating exactly how they'd worked through their training exercises that day

and he is loud and energetic and you're half-asleep like 'that sounds awesome, babe.'

he isn't one to stay in one place really, he likes tossing and turning a bit before he falls asleep which means that you are also going to be tossed and turned

he's a really shifty sleeper too so you'll wake up with your face in his armpit

if you're really sleepy though, he'll settle down, he'll pull you into his chest and let you fall asleep there

but he'll probably be on his phone for a bit, he strikes me as a crazy night owl

Reuben 'Payback' Fitch:

out in two seconds

there is no conscious cuddling with him

why?

because the second his head hits the pillow he's snoring

you can cuddle up to him but if he's cuddling up to you he's doing it in his sleep

you're actually so jealous of him bc you lay down for the night and he tucks his chin over your head or he snuggles his face into your neck and that's it.

he's out.

he's a clingy sleeper, though, so if you wanna read for a bit or use your phone it might be kind of hard

honestly it really helps your sleep schedule to sleep with him 'cause sometimes he's entirely wrapped around you and you can't move

so there's nothing to do but sleep yourself

he's like a living furnace i KNOW that man runs hot

you probably wake up sweating a bunch if you're all snuggly with him

blanket stealer. he somehow manages to tear them off of the end of the bed where they're tucked in and cocoon himself

and then you wake up freezing cold

when i said he snores i mean it he snores loud

it's sort of comforting eventually? like at first it drives u insane

but over time you come to rely on it as white noise and you can't sleep unless he's all over you snoring right in your ear and drooling on your shoulder

#pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #nick bradshaw x reader #goose x reader #tom kazansky x reader #iceman x reader #ron kerner x reader #slider x reader #wolfman x reader #hollywood x reader #beau simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #natasha trace x reader #phoenix x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #reuben fitch x reader #payback x reader

[sebsbarnes]

the days you meet || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: tangerine was feeling the same way. he ran his tongue across his teeth thinking of the way your laugh sounded like a symphony. he shook his head a bit thinking it was wild to even say such things about, truly, a stranger.

warnings: none!

word count: 2.5K ; fluff, angsty plot twist

tangerine masterlist

you popped up from behind the counter once you heard the small chime of the bell echo through the shop.

"sorry 'bout that," you smiled brushing out your disheveled apron, "good morning, what can i get for you?"

the man before you was dressed to the nines. slicked back hair, neatly combed mustache, a fitted maroon suit, and gold jewelry.

"good mornin' darlin'," his blue eyes examined the bakery case, "may i have a scone?"

you slid the glass open picking up the scone, "anything else i can do for you?"

"no that's alright thank you love," the gentleman replied.

that was the first day you saw tangerine.

"good morning!" you smiled at the familiar man from a few days prior. he was dressed the same, now in a dark blue suit.

"mornin' love, how are you?" he asked.

"bit tired to be completely honest," you let out a small chuckle, "but that's alright, how are you sir?"

"you can call me tangerine, love. and i'm well thank you. i've been thinking about your scones since the last time i came," tangerine said.

a small 'oh' slipped from your lips before immediately opening the case and grabbing a scone.

"i'm glad you like them! makes getting up at 4am to bake worth it knowing people like them," you grinned appreciative of the compliment.

"4am?!" tangerine asked bewildered.

you couldn't help but laugh at his reaction as you rang him up, your head facing down. tangerine couldn't help but slightly bring his face down to see your smile.

"i love what i do," you shrug handing him his bag and card back.

a massive grin formed on your face as tangerine left after his goodbye's. your hand crept to your cheek feeling the warmth the charming and handsome gentleman created. you spun on your heel searching for tangerine pastry recipes.

tangerine was feeling the same way. he ran his tongue across his teeth thinking of the way your laugh sounded like a symphony. he shook his head a bit thinking it was wild to even say such things about, truly, a stranger.

that was the second day you saw tangerine.

you sat around bored, it was the biggest lull of the day, nearly 1pm and you couldn't lie and say you weren't disappointed that tangerine hadn't come in that morning. you hummed any song that came through the speakers and re-wiped the same surfaces a hundred times. you hated how your mind continued to wander to the man you hardly knew.

but it was as if he heard you.

"good afternoon love," tangerine grinned as he entered the bakery.

"tangerine!' you exclaimed a little too enthused.

"yeah a bit later than usual today," he said rolling up the sleeves to his button down.

"no worries," you tried to play it off nonchalantly, returning back behind the counter.

his eyes looked at the now almost empty bakery case and just before his dreams of the scone could deflate you interrupted.

"i saved you one," pulling a small box from under the register, his name written in cursive on the white top.

he gasped your name, "you are too sweet darlin' you really didn't need to save it for me."

tangerine's eyes were locked on yours and you felt yourself crumbling to the floor, you actually had to grip the counter a bit. you knew he could tell your face was flushed and he did. and god was it driving him absolutely mad for you.

"i didn't need to but i wanted to."

that was the third day you saw tangerine.

"oh i'm so glad you are here!" you nearly squealed seeing tangerine.

"hello, love," he said, teeth on full display and a hint of pink cheeks.

"sit down sit down," you demanded rounding the counter and placing your hand (yes, on purpose) on tangerine's back guiding him to a table.

he seemed thrown off guard, eyebrows knitted together, slouching off his suit jacket but happily going along with it.

"okay wait there alright i'll be just a second," you practically skipped away, calling over your shoulder.

tangerine was dumbfounded but so enamored. his chin placed in his palm watching you move back and forth frantically. he laughed- no, giggled, waiting for your return.

"alright. now, please be honest okay? if its shit tell me its shit don't go easy on me tangerine," your voice coming closer to the awaiting man.

his eyes locked on the small white plate you were holding and waited to get a better look once you set it in front of him.

"it looks a bit weird but it's tangerine drizzle cake, i haven't tried it yet so i'm sorry if it's bad but i think it should be pretty decent," you rambled.

now tangerine let out a real laugh, his hand extending forward motioning you to slow down, "let me taste it."

he picked up the fork cutting a small piece off and bringing it to his mouth. 'wow' was all he muttered still chewing on the piece. tangerine bobbed his head slightly, humming in content.

"love," he started taking a napkin to his mouth, "this is fantastic."

he didn't know your eyes could widen in joy any more than they already were, "really?!"

tangerine had no idea what possessed his hand to cut off another piece and bring the fork to your mouth but it was too late to stop now. you hesitated a moment before obliging and letting him feed you.

“oh wow,” bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, “that is good.”

you and tangerine sat quietly finishing off the pastry. there was no awkwardness in the air. it was comfortable, perhaps even almost intimate. the soft melody of the piano music in the background, the sweet smell of the baked goods, the quiet sounds of the fan above which had caused a slight chill on your arms to which tangerine handed you his jacket. it was cozy, it was homely, and you imagined many days in which you and tangerine shared moments such as this.

some time and small conversation passed before tangerine said he needed to leave. much to your dismay you let him gather his things. if it was up to you, you would have kept him all to yourself in the small corner of the bakery, hidden from the world where you two could be alone.

"take this for home, on me, and don't fight me on it," you smiled up at tangerine handing him a box with a few scones.

he let out a huff of air in disapproval before grabbing the box. he wrapped his arms around you whispering a 'thank you' in your ear.

on tangerine's walk home he felt on cloud nine. it was as if songbirds dance around him and wedding bells were his soundtrack. he couldn't get enough of you, but he didn't want to come off too forward especially not with his profession that was still unbeknownst to you. he nearly twirled himself through the doorway where an amused lemon was sitting on the couch. lemon noticed the box in his hand with the familiar logo and couldn't help but smirk.

"with your girlfriend ey?"

"mate," was all tangerine could say running a hand through his hair.

lemon knew he was in for a long afternoon of tangerine repeating himself over and over again to make sure lemon and even the damn furniture could recite word for word what happened in the bakery.

that was the fourth day you saw tangerine.

it was busy in the bakery when tangerine walked in. he waited near the door shifting the weight back and forth between his feet. you were busy with a mom and their young daughter. you were in front of the counter kneeling next to the little girl pointing at the bakery case. tangerine's lips twitched into a small side smile as you matched the little girl's excitement when she finally decided on a brownie.

"want to do something fun?" tangerine heard you ask the little girl who hopped up and down eagerly. swiftly you went into the backroom coming back out with an icing tube and handed it to the girl, showing her how to draw a small flower on the brownie, ignoring the grumbles of the old man in front of tangerine.

tangerine placed a firm grip on the man's shoulder, "you alright mate," he asked with a sickly-sweet smile, his fingers gripping tighter. the old man dropped his shoulder hoping to release tangerine's grip and immediately stalked out of the building.

"hey sweetheart," tangerine smiled, walking up to the now open counter.

"did you scare that man away?" you asked head cocked to the side.

tangerine ran a hand over his moustache, "would you be mad if i said yes?"

you let out a laugh shaking your head at the man before grabbing him two scones, "you're lucky i like you."

tangerine suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, aweing over his crush on the playground. he fidgeted with his gold rings as his eyes looked over your face, soaking in all the features.

"i guess you're alright," he whispered jokingly, his accent thick.

tangerine handed you the money for the food, you had tried protesting the extra money he had given you but he insisted it was to make up for the man he scared away 'please take it' he would say eyes wide and kind and there was no way you could deny it with a plead like that.

"before i go," tangerine started, "i have a gift for you."

"a gift?" you asked skeptically.

he propped his briefcase onto the counter, unlatching the silver lock and ruffled through a pocket before pulling out a small book.

"i saw it in the store and i couldn't leave without buying it. it had your name written all over it," he spoke shyly.

tangerine handed you a small beige notebook. on the cover was small pencil drawings of croissants, scones, muffins, and cake pieces. warmth flushed over your face as you ran your fingers across the cover as if your fingertips were drawing the pastries. you flipped over the cover and on the first page tangerine had written your name followed by a tiny, messy doodle of a tangerine.

"oh wow," you said a bit breathless at the gesture, tears even lined your eyes, "this is so thoughtful."

you motioned for him to walk to the counter opening and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. he immediately engulfed you in a tight hug. the smell of his cologne made you hum in delight, and you hoped the smell would linger on you.

"anything for you, love."

that was the fifth day you saw tangerine.

it was after 4am and you were busy preparing all the baked goods for the day. you hummed around happily, occasionally checking the notebook tangerine gave you to follow the checklist you made for the day. you were in the middle of fixing up another batch of chocolate chip cookies when you heard knocking. your head was on a swivel trying to decipher where the noise was coming from, after all it was very early and no one else in town was usually out and about. peering through the door separating the kitchen from the dining space you saw tangerine standing at the front door. you wiped your powdery hands on your shirt and unlocked the door for him.

"hey, what are you doing here?" you asked surprised to see him.

tangerine leaned down a bit giving you a hug, "i go into work soon and i'll be gone all day. i remembered you said you come in early and i wanted to say hi before i left."

"you- wow, i," you stuttered, "that is very thoughtful."

tangerine ran his hands down your arms, holding onto your hands. he took in your appearance. flour covered your body, your hair a bit messy, he could tell you were tired but truthfully, he wouldn't change a thing about your appearance right now. it was so endearing.

you brought him back into the kitchen that was filled sky high of trays with baked goods on them. 'here' you had said placing a scone and a coffee in front of him at the small table you had in the back. you sat next to him, glancing at his lips as he took a sip of coffee.

"what kind of job do you have that you're on your way there before 5am?" you asked.

with no hesitations tangerine said he worked in construction. you only hummed in response. you had no reason to believe he was lying. you didn't need to question why there was always cuts on his hands, it made sense for someone in construction. you didn't need to question why he was always in a suit, it made sense that he was probably also an owner at the company.

for the next hour the two of you fired off questions to each other while he helped you bake. questions you would ask a person when you are on a first date, their favorite movie, their favorite childhood memory, their life goals, their drive in life. each time you spoke tangerine felt as though he met the one. the way you spoke, the eagerness you had for your passions, the kindness in you as you told stories of your past. there was no comparing you to all his flings in the past, as harsh as it sounds those nights meant nothing to him. he never imagined himself dreaming of a future in which he had someone. but as he stood here watching you ramble about your childhood cat with flour across the bridge of your nose, he knew.

he stepped towards you, wrapping one hand around your waist, "you've got something here," he whispered inches away from your face, bringing his handkerchief to your nose.

you were frozen in place. eyes wide staring directly into his. this couldn't be real. it was like a scene straight out of a movie. you swallowed harshly eyes flickering to his lips. he removed the handkerchief out of the way, arm still gripping your waist.

and then... the oven timer blared out its alarm breaking you two of your trance. both frustrated at the ruined moment, you even turned your back to him letting out a silent scream as you turned the buzzer off.

"shit, i need to head out anyways love," tangerine said checking his pocket watch disappointedly.

you opened the front door for him, leaning against the frame, "have a good day at work."

"thanks darlin'. i had fun this morning."

"so did i," you smiled softly at him.

you watched tangerine's broad frame slowly disappear down the road. he tossed you a wave and a smile over his shoulder. the butterflies dancing in your stomach was almost nauseating.

that was the last day you saw tangerine.

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[cevansbrat0007]

Thirst Trap

Summary: Ari loves looking at your ass in those shorts, as long as he's the one who gets to walk behind you.

Warnings: Ari Being A Menace, Implied Stalking, Smut, Brat!Reader, Arguments, Jealous/Possessive Behavior, Biting, Light D/s Overtones, Slight Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Spanking (mentioned), Edging (mentioned), Punishments (mentioned), Hair Pulling, Discussions of Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Any minute now.” Ari grumbles to himself as he glares down at a display of brightly colored bell peppers while he waits for you to move on to a different part of the store. 

You’ve been lingering in the produce department for the better part of ten minutes now. In fact, it’s your second time over here, what with you having doubled-back to switch out some of the strawberries you’d originally grabbed in favor of several containers of blueberries.

Or, perhaps raspberries. Maybe blackberries and – nope. You appeared to be solidly set on those damned blueberries. Thank God.

It wasn’t so much Ari being impatient with you as it was him ready to leave the store. If he was being honest, you most likely weren’t even aware that he was here. And if you had noticed, then you were doing a fantastic job of ignoring him.

Frankly, he was surprised that a member of Herb & Twine’s loss prevention team hadn’t approached him by now. Especially since he had yet to actually put anything in his cart. The same cart he’d been pushing around for the better part of a half-hour. 

At this point, Ari Levinson was growing suspicious of his own damn self. Starting with the fact that every day he woke up more and more addicted to you – your voice, your smile, your touch.  

And that body. Fuck! 

You had no idea just how many nights he had lain awake thinking of those gorgeous curves, his hand fisted around his cock desperate for a little relief. You were a permanent fixture in his mind these days. And you had no fucking clue. 

Just like you had no fucking clue that you were drawing the attention of practically every man in this place who still possessed the ability to get it up. 

All thanks to a pair of cutoff denim shorts. They fit your ass so good it was damn near disrespectful. And sweet heavenly fuck were they short! Everytime you moved he was treated to a glimpse of those tempting curves. 

Shit set his teeth on edge. Because while he was thrilled that you were feeling confident enough to show off your curves, there was another, more primal, part of him that hated the fact that you were showing off what belonged to him.

Mine.  

That one word dances through his brain, making him wish that he could simply toss you over his shoulder and carry you off to some remote location. Maybe punish you for daring to wear that outfit in public without your man by your side. 

So now, instead of focusing on his own shopping, he’s been forced to follow you around the store. Staying just out of sight, of course. Which wasn’t easy. It was tough to be stealthy when he constantly found himself being mesmerized by the sway of your hips.

In his defense of his stalker ways, he’d been ready to identify himself from the moment he laid eyes on you. But since he was already in a foul mood – because you hadn’t called him like you said you would – he decided to pretend to run into you at the check-out lane instead. 

Until Ari had caught a couple young punks, whose barely-there mustaches were entirely too wispy for his liking, checking out your ass for a few seconds too long. And what pissed him off more than anything else is that you appeared oblivious to all of it.

You were too busy living in your own little world, sashaying your way through the grocery store, with your sweet ass on display. An ass that belonged to him.

Just like you did, beautiful Bird. 

“Time to move it along, fellas.” Ari grunts, none-too-gently nudging their cart with his own. “We’re here to shop, not to gawk at the pretty ladies.”

What were their names again? Charley and Dirk? More like Beavis and Butt-Head, if he were being honest.

“Ain’t no laws against admiring.” Dirk responds as he elbows his buddy in the ribs. “I’m telling you, man. I don’t think she’s as stuck up as everyone lets on.” 

Ari also agrees with that assessment of you, even though he doesn’t say anything. Because they were right. You were so much more than what the folks in this town had initially led him to believe.

“Nah. That bitch once gave me shit for throwing away a bunch of my sister’s old books instead of donating them or whatever the fuck she said she does.” Comes Charley’s retort, a smirk firmly plastered on his lips.  

“So what? Maybe she just needs to get laid. I bet if I – hey!”  

 Ari interrupts the young men, ramming their cart again with a bit more force this time. “I meant what I said. Now you can either move it along, or I can escort you out the door myself. Up to you.”

“But we ain’t even done anything wrong, Levinson!” One sputters as the other takes a tentative step back.

“Harassment is a crime anywhere, boys. Even in bumfuck towns like this one.” The imposing bounty hunter dips his head knowingly, baring his teeth as he does. “Now, do I need to retrieve my cuffs? And because I’m passionate about the law, I always carry two pairs.” 

Shaking their heads “no”, both of them turn and quickly hasten away, continuing to mutter under their breaths as they do. Which is fine by him. Because whether they knew it or not, they’d just made Ari’s personal shit list. Which meant they’d do well to stay out of his way for the foreseeable future.

But you, on the other hand…you two were about to have words. As soon as he tracked you down again.

Ari searches high and low for you for several minutes, continuously walking the aisles hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But unfortunately for him, his search turns up empty. Which then leads him out to the parking lot, just in time to see you hang a left off the property.

What on earth possessed you to walk here? And better yet, where the fuck was your car?

“Swear to God, you need a damned keeper.” He grumbles as he makes a beeline for his own vehicle. Throwing himself inside, he slams the door and guns the engine before peeling out of the lot. “Might as well be a full-time job.”  

Although you’re moving quickly, it doesn’t take long for him to catch up with you. You all-but jump out of your skin when he pulls out next to you. But instead of apologizing for scaring you like he normally would, he finds himself ready to rip you a new one on account of the fact that you’re wearing fucking headphones.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ari snarls, his gruff tone taking you slightly aback.

“I mean I don’t think so.” You sniff, temporarily halting your steps so you can peer at him through the passenger window. “But the day is young and I just got some new inventory that’s been on back-order for a while so…” You muster up a cheeky smile, even as you feel yourself beginning to sweat. “I guess anything is possible.”

Damn this early summer heat. Between the stickiness in the air and your thighs rubbing together, you were ready to sit down. But first you had to make it back to the shop in one piece.

“Get in the car, Bird.” Your occasional bed-partner’s no-nonsense tone instantly has your hackles raised as he puts the truck in park. 

“Why?” You ask, not bothering to hide your suspicion.

“Get in the damn car.” Ari repeats, his left hand squeezing the steering wheel so hard you worry he might rip it clean off the dash. 

“Say please.” Sometimes Mr. Levinson seemed to forget the importance of manners.   

“Fucking damn it, woman!” He barks, before exiting his ride and jogging around the side to yank open the door closest to you. “Baby,” he tries again, his fingers going to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We can do this either one of two ways. Either you can get in the car on your own like a good girl, or I can put you in it myself.”

You shoot him a glare, suddenly wishing you had purchased something a little heavier than fresh fruit and whipping cream from Herb & Twine in preparation for this very moment. That way you might have a better chance of knocking some much needed sense into his thick skull.

“And I take it there isn’t a third option?” You venture, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.

“Bird, I’m so glad you asked.” This time Ari finally sees fit to offer you a smile. Too bad there’s nothing friendly about it. “Option three involves me bending you over the hood of my truck and tanning all that ass you’ve got hanging out of your shorts for being dumb enough to walk to the damned store instead of taking your car.   

“I am not dumb!” You hiss, feeling the bite of his anger. “I just had to grab the stuff I needed to make popsicles.”

“Then what do you call it?” He growls, snagging a hold of your bags. “Because last time I checked, we’ve got a man on the run who just might be a fucking killer. And you decide that it’s a good time for a goddamned stroll.”

Those words have you instantly deflating. Just because this man in front of you had a way of getting under your skin sometimes didn’t make him any less right. While you had viewed your quick trip to the store as an easy way to stretch your legs and get some fresh air, someone else might take that opportunity to see you as a target. Which meant that you had almost royally fucked up.

“Okay.” Is all you can manage before handing him the rest of your belongings. “I assume you know how to get back to Baubles & Quills?”

“I do. Just like I knew you’d see it my way.”

It’s only a ten-minute ride to your shop. But thanks to your asshole companion, it might as well have been an hour. And at this point you were fucking fuming. 

“Thanks for the lift, Ari.” You snarl, shutting the car door with your hip and marching towards the front door of your shop. “But I can handle myself.” Fishing out your keys, you make quick work of unlocking the door and all but tossing your groceries inside. They land with a dull thunk, the contents spilling out of the bags and onto the floor.

The gall of this man! Acting as if he had the right to bark orders at you because you’d slept together once or twice. Alright, it was more like five. But no more. After today you were done. 

Especially since he’d spent the entire ten-minutes it took to get back to your shop reading you the riot act. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. No traveling on your own after sundown. Call him every night when you’re locking up the shop and then again when you get home…

The list went on and on. Up until now, you’d honestly had no idea just how much Ari Levinson loved hearing himself talk.  

“You know, for the record, I was doing just fine before you got here.” You continue, casting him a withering glance over your shoulder.You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches either. “And I’m sure I’ll find a way to do even better once you leave.”

Fire burning hot in your belly, you allow the door to slam behind you as you busy yourself with collecting your things. There was a refrigerator in the kitchenette you could use to store everything until it was time to head home for the day. 

In the meantime, if that beefy, overbearing knuckle dragger outside knew what was good for him, he’d pile himself into his truck and drive off into the sunset. Preferably sooner rather than later. Before you went and made the mistake of actually catching feelings or something. 

Because who the fuck were you kidding? The man had a propensity for spiking your blood pressure long before you ever allowed him anywhere near your damn panties. Which meant you knew better. And you’d still decided to give up the goods all because you were worried about cobwebs in your coochie.

“The sex isn’t even that good.” You mutter as you flip the light switch. 

Okay, yes it was. But you were also smarter than this. Just because the man had pretty eyes, an easy smile, and a big dick didn’t mean he could talk to you any ol’ kind of way. Or just insert himself in your life like he was planning to stick around. 

As if he planned to stay. You were done accepting promises from men who either couldn’t or wouldn’t keep them.

You startle when you hear the chime of the bells, signaling the opening and closing of the front door. For their sake, it had better not be a customer. You weren’t feeling particularly helpful or friendly at the moment.  

“We’re closed. Get out.” You call, hoping that whoever was out there had heard you the first time. Unfortunately for you, luck just didn’t seem to be on your side today. Because instead of the sounds of someone beating a hasty retreat, you get more Ari Levinson.  

“Which is exactly why you need to lock the goddamn door. Or what part of there might be a killer on the loose do you not quite get?”

“I was getting around to it!” You snipe, really wishing you’d had the forethought to lock the damn door before that insufferable man had decided to waltz through it after you.

“Not fast enough for my liking.” Ari leans against the doorframe, his big body blocking the exit. “And since I’m gettin’ shit off my chest, I don’t appreciate you walking away from me in the middle of a conversation either.”

That earns him an eye roll before you return your attention to rearranging items in the fridge. Quite honestly, you didn’t give a damn about what he did or didn’t like. And you hated the fact that the quiet authority in his voice was all it took to ruin your panties. 

Bossy bastard.   

“Eyes, Bird.” He growls, making it clear he wasn’t letting you off the hook for that passive show of disrespect. “I already made it plain how I felt about you rolling ‘em at me. And if you recall, it pisses me the fuck off.” 

Ari Levinson had never been the type of man who did well with being dismissed. By anyone. Anywhere. Ever.

“Well, it pisses me the fuck off when people like you make comments about what I wear. Frankly, I struggle enough being in this body as it is. So, if you don’t like my clothes then don’t fucking look at me and maybe you won’t be disgusted by the sight of my fat ass hanging out of my shorts. Problem solved.”

“The fuck did you say?” The sound of Ari’s pissed off snarl might as well be the equivalent of a record scratch.

“You heard me.” You find yourself rolling your eyes once again, not feeling the least bit sorry for it either. 

But in all reality, you had no idea just how hard you were pushing him. Maybe if you knew, you would’ve quit while you were ahead. 

“Duchess.” Comes Ari’s weary sigh as he jams his hands into his pockets, preventing himself from touching you. “You keep rollin’ those eyes at me and runnin’ that sassy little mouth of yours and I’m afraid we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Jesus Christ.” You sneer. “Why the fuck are you even still here, Ari?”

“Because we’re having a conversation. But in order for us to continue doing that, I’m gonna need you to settle down.”

“I will settle down when you get the hell out of my store.” Fuck, if there was ever a time when you could’ve used a cattle prod!

“And I’ll get the hell out of your store when I’ve finished making my point.” He responds, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “Now what’s all this business about you not wanting me to look at you? And who the fuck called you fat?”

All Ari needed from you was a name. He’d take care of the rest later.

“Argh!” You screech, your arms flailing wide. “You know what? Forget it! I’m done!” You slam the door to the fridge before attempting to shoulder past Ari. 

Too bad your 6”4 Beast doesn’t seem all that keen on moving.

“Done with what?” He grits out, purposely holding you hostage. 

“With you.” You hit back as steam practically pours out of your ears. “Us. And this entire godforsaken town. Now fucking move, Levinson.” 

Again you attempt to get by him. And again he stops you, his spine stiffening in confusion. Because he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“We’re not done, you and me. Not by a long shot.” His big hands go to gently frame your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks. “But I do think I might have said something that upset you. And while I’m not sure what it was, I apologize. But we’re not done, baby.”

“You’re not in charge of me, of this.” You tell him, breaking his hold as you do your damnedest to ignore the trembling of your lower lip.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. Especially given the fact that you were in my bed the night before last.” He flashes you a cocky smile as he slowly backs you towards the wall. “And you loved every minute of it.” 

For some reason, Ari feels compelled to tack on the last part. Secretly hoping to get a rise out of you. And it works, but maybe not exactly in the way he intended.

“I had an itch. And you scratched it. It doesn’t make you special, Ari.” You hiss, ignoring the warning gleam in his eyes. “Any man would’ve worked, but I decided to bet on a stranger. Make things easier for myself.”  

All lies. And you both knew it. 

Unfazed, your bounty hunter continues to crowd you, using his hard, muscled body to box you in. And that’s when you remember that Ari Levinson had the ability to read people like a fucking book – you included.

Which meant this man had already pegged you for a runner the moment he met you. A fair assessment if there ever was one. 

“I want you to look me in the eyes and say that shit again.” Ari growls the moment your back connects with the wall, his palms coming to brace themselves on either side of your head. 

His message was clear. You were no longer in charge of the situation. Just like that.

“Let’s hear it, Bird.” The husky timbre of his voice washes over you, making your nipples pebble beneath the thin material of your shirt. “I mean, you’ve already gone and dug yourself in pretty deep with this shit.” And then the soft brush of his lips along the column of your throat has your world tilting on its axis. “But if you wanna keep going, I’ve got time.”

“I…” You croak, your mouth suddenly dry. Your eyes flutter closed when Ari begins to nibble his way along your jaw, sending your already thrumming pulse rocketing to new heights. “You can’t– I’m not…” 

“C’mon and tell me I’m not your man, that you don’t want me in your bed anymore.” He presses his body against yours, moving his hips so that you can feel the outline of his denim-covered erection against your belly. “Tell me that you don’t need me to keep you in line. Need me to punish you, please you, and everything else in between…”

Your eyes fly open at his words, your core spasming. “Y–you can’t punish me.” You stammer, shivering as Ari’s lidded gaze darkens with lust. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“Now I’m afraid that’s where I beg to differ, sweetness.” Without warning, he sinks his teeth into the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking hard. You let out a sharp cry as your hands go to rest on his biceps. 

But you don’t push him away, not even when he releases you to let his tongue lave over the small hurt. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, he pulls back so that he can look you in the eye once again. “If you need a list of where you’ve gone wrong the last few days, I’m more than happy to give you one.” Ari’s nimble fingers find the front of your shorts, unsnapping them before you can blink. “Starting with your forgetting to call me last night.”

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” You confess on a whimper as he slips a dangerous hand inside your soaked panties. “Ooh! Or that you’d even really care if I didn’t.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Ari cups your pussy, feeling immensely pleased when he discovers just how excited you are for him. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t always talk just to make sounds. And I’d much rather hear your pretty little voice over my own. But when it comes to your safety, I do not play.” His grip tightens then, as he grinds the heel of his palm against your pulsing clit. 

“O–okay. I’m sorry!” You arch your back, letting the sparks of white-hot pleasure run their course.

“Atta girl.” He praises, cutting off your next cry with a kiss so good it makes your toes curl. Ari takes his time devouring you, enjoying every single little moan and breathy sigh that slips past your lips. “Since I’ve got you listening so nicely, how about we see if you can follow a few simple instructions for me?” Mouth curving in a rakish grin, he removes his hand from your shorts and takes a step back.

And then he licks his palm, his eyes never once leaving yours as he savors the taste of all that sweet, sticky honey you’d left behind for him. 

“Never get enough of you.” Ari groans, his apparent hunger for you only deepening the longer it takes for him to feed it. “Now turn around and face the wall. There you go, baby.”

Heart hammering in your chest, you move to comply and then ready yourself for his next command. While you weren’t exactly sure what happened to your earlier fire, you had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the renewed heat pooling in your belly. 

Well, that and the wetness between your thighs.

“Next I want you to take off those damned shorts, followed by your panties. Bend over and pull ‘em down real slow.” Again, you move to comply only to halt when he adds something else you weren’t expecting. “But there’s a trick to this one. You still listening?"

Wordlessly you nod.

“Thought so. Now, I want you to pull ‘em down without bending your knees.” He rasps, his own hand going to squeeze his straining erection through his jeans. “I’m tellin’ you right now, I wanna see pink, baby. Your man wants to get a good, long look at that juicy pussy. Go on.”

You bend over, intending to do as he asks. But before you can get very far, you hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Immediately you pause, glancing at him curiously over your shoulder. 

“Eyes front!” Ari barks, his hand connecting with your bare bottom with a sharp crack, making you yip. “Show me you know how to fucking follow my directions.” He lands another blow before giving you permission to continue.

This time you manage to do as he bids. And although you wish you could attempt to rub the sting out of your ass, you decide you’re better off simply leaving well enough alone. 

Now you’re standing there, naked from the waist down. Your shorts and panties in a heap on the floor at your feet. Seriously, what was it about this man that always had your clothes coming off? Shit was starting to get annoying!

“Would you get a look at you?” Comes your Bounty Hunter’s husky purr. He trails the slightly roughened pads of his fingers along your still burning butt. “And I want to be clear about something. I love this ass, baby. And I would never disrespect it or you by calling you fat.” He lands another hard slap for good measure. “And I damn sure won’t tolerate you referring to yourself that way either.”

Ari would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing his handprint like this. In fact, if he had his way, you were going to be covered in his marks a lot more often from here on out. So you had better get used to it.

“Can I turn around now, please?” Your tiny voice somehow manages to sound both breathy and impatient at the same time.

“You must really want that fucking spanking I keep finding myself itching to give.” Ari growls, although this time there’s a teasing edge in his tone. “Go brace yourself on that little table for me, sweetness. I want those palms down flat and that luscious ass poked out. Now.”

Your jelly legs threaten to give out beneath you as you wobble over to the table, abandoning your clothes where they lay. Instead of complaining, you remind yourself to look at the bright side of things. 

At least he hadn’t ripped your shit this time. Maybe your panties would actually make it out of this in one piece this time. A girl could only hope.

“You’re doing so well, little Bird.” Ari praises as he toes off his boots and shucks his pants, tossing them in the direction of your own discarded clothing. “We’re almost there. Stick that ass out for me, I want this image of you right here, all soft and sweet, embedded in my brain so I have something to remember the next time you decide to be a brat.”

“Yes, Sir.” You whisper, unprompted. Your quiet admission serves to confirm something that Ari had long since suspected to be true.

He needed to earn your submission. Prove he deserved it. And now you had his unspoken promise that he would. Every single day from here on out. 

Soon, Ari’s pants are followed by his boxer and his shirt. Eventually he’s left standing stark naked and proud right there in your little shop’s kitchenette. His impressively thick cock stands at attention, a delicious bead of precum dotting the tip.

“Time for your reward, little Bird.” That’s all the warning he gives you. Gripping your hips with his big hands, he enters you with one hard thrust. You shoot up on your toes as your greedy pussy clenches around him.

“Fuck, Beast!” You whine, as Ari bottoms out inside you. But unlike your previous dalliances, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. Because he was still very much a man with a point to prove. “Oh God! Oh God! Please!”

And the only way he was convinced he was going to be able to ram that point home, is if you couldn’t walk straight by the time he was through.   

“That’s right.” Ari snarls, showing you no mercy as he finds his rhythm. He sets a rough pace, drinking in every cry of pleasure as he works to stake his claim. “This pussy knows me, baby. And so does this body.” He bears down, loving the way you rise to meet him with each punishing thrust. “Say it. Tell me.” He orders, angling his hips in a way that allows him to go even deeper.

His heavy balls slap against your sopping wet core, the filthy sound of his primal claiming echoing throughout the empty room. You feel the coil tighten in your belly as your man pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

“I’m yours!” You cry as your vision begins to blur. Fuck you were getting close.

“Again.” Ari snarls, the harsh sound reverberating in his chest. He shifts his grip, allowing his muscled chest to press against your back. 

“Ari, oh God! Fuck!Fuck!Fuuuuck!” This shit was too fucking much. Your knees practically threatening to buckle under the weight of the pleasure that is currently responsible for driving you insane.

“Either say it or I stop.” He warns, although his brutal pace never once falters. “Tell me what I wanna hear unless you want me to edge you for the next week.” That’s all you need to hear. Because what he just proposed sounded a hell of a lot like your worst nightmare.

“I’m yours!” You wail, as a tear tracks its way down your cheek. “Beast, I’m yours. Swear to God I am!” Satisfied, Ari then redoubles his efforts to reward you for being his good girl.

“Thank you, sweet Bird.” Comes his dark chuckle as he whispers a hot kiss along your damp brow. “Now was that really so hard?” Another kiss, this time as one of his hands sneaks around to play with your sensitive clit. “How about we see what else we can get you to finally admit to?” 

That same coil pulls tighter, the invisible cord now dangerously close to snapping while your man busies himself with taking you apart piece by piece. And then his other hand fists itself in your curls, wrenching your head back to bestow a trail of scorching hot kisses along your throat. Leaving no doubt in your mind that he was about to thoroughly wreck you.

“And when we're through, baby, I'll even take you out for ice cream.” 

END   

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[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 51 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is waiting for an answer to Noah's question while you blurt out the first thing on your mind. While they await your response, you start to realize nothing is going to change too much. And that's a very good thing, because being with your family just the way you have been is exactly what you want.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, pregnancy topics, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4400 words

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

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

"Mommy, will you marry Daddy?"

You looked down into Noah's soft, brown eyes as he held out the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen in your life. Colorful prisms painted his hand as the midday sunlight shone through the enormous diamond that Bradley had trusted him to hold. Tears filled your eyes as you brought your hand up to your lips as your fingers shook, and when you met Bradley's gaze, you said, "I'm pregnant."

You hadn't meant to tell him that when he was on his knee in front of you, but you really had no expectation that your day would include a positive pregnancy test let alone a marriage proposal. Tears slid down your cheeks as Bradley stared back up at you silently. You thought this was what he wanted, but he hadn't said anything. Then you realized that you didn't respond to Noah's question yet either as more tears fell.

"Princess?" Bradley finally asked as he started to stand with Noah tucked against his body by his right arm. "You're pregnant?"

You nodded as he wrapped his left arm around you and pulled you close, his flight suit rough against your skin. "Yes. I just found out like two hours ago."

He looked surprised but not unhappy as his hand bunched up the fabric at the back of your dress until you were snug against his body. His lips hovered just inches above yours, but he didn't say anything else as Noah still tried to hand you the ring.

"Aren't you going to say anything else?" you whispered, fingers still shaking as you let your hands rest on his chest.

A smile teased at his lips. "Princess, you know I'm ready for a baby. I told you that so many times," he replied as he kissed your forehead. "I'm a little surprised it happened so quickly, but I guess I shouldn't be." His lips met yours in the softest kiss. "Now can you please let me know where you stand on this diamond ring before Noah drops it? I'm kind of dying here. Hoping you'll say yes."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard until you were breathless. "Yes," you whispered, your lips brushing his mustache. "Yes, Noah, I'll marry Daddy."

Bradley laughed and kissed you again before he said, "Okay, Bub. Give her the ring before it ends up in the grass or something." You tucked yourself in against him and kissed Noah's chubby cheek, finally taking the ring from his sticky hand and sliding it on your finger. The diamond was massive and looked like it was worth more than your car. 

"I don't think you should have spent this much on a ring with a baby on the way," you said, and Bradley barked out another laugh.

"It's a princess cut for my Princess. Do you like it?" he asked.

"Of course!" you told him, curling your fingers like you were afraid he was going to take it away from you. "It's perfect."

"Then I didn't spend too much on my future wife." His words hit you square in the heart as you ran your fingers through Noah's soft curls, the crowds of people around you finally coming back into focus after several minutes of excitement. You were going to be Bradley's wife. 

More tears found your eyes as you said, "Your wife. Oh my god, Bradley! I was so nervous about the pregnancy test, but yes, I absolutely want to be your wife."

You wrapped both of them up in a hug as he murmured in your ear. "There's my excited Princess. Were you really nervous to tell me you're pregnant, Baby?"

"Yes, because I was completely surprised and overwhelmed," you admitted, burying your face against his chest. "I'm also a bit relieved you technically proposed before I told you about it."

"Hey," he rasped, his voice a little harsher now as he set Noah down and tipped your chin up with his rough fingers. "I made my intentions very clear to you. I let you know I wanted a ring on your finger well before I flushed your birth control pills." He swiped your lips with his thumb before he let his hand trail down your body, his knuckles skimming the valley between your breasts before grazing your tummy. "And if I get all three things that I wanted in one day, then I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Three things?" you asked as an announcement about more jets taking the air boomed through the crowd. 

He smiled as his palm flattened over your belly button. "Yeah. You agreed to marry me even though you could do a lot better. And you just told me I'm going to be a dad all over again."

"That's two things, Daddy. Is your memory slipping with age?"

He shook his head, that smile still firmly in place. "I've had adoption paperwork with your name and Noah's on it waiting at home for a long time."

You looked up at him in wonder. "I want those three things, too."

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

Bradley wasn't too surprised you got a positive pregnancy test this morning. He'd been working hard to try to get that exact result. In fact, he'd been putting hours and hours each week toward this very goal. He could tell you were overwhelmed by everything that was going on, your eyes flitting from his face to your ring and then back to Noah over and over. But he'd been through this once before. Well, not the engagement part. And Meredith was actually nothing like you in the least. But he wasn't nervous. Not really. Especially not about the baby.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling you onto his lap where he sat on the huge beach blanket. "You looked overwhelmed."

You nodded as more announcements were made over the loudspeaker. "This has been a lot of new information for one day," you told him, looking like you might cry.

"I know," he said before kissing your lips. "But I love you. All three of you. And I'll take care of everything."

As a jet engine roared to life, you lunged off of his lap and reached for Noah's headphones, slipping them into place. "Don't want your ears to hurt," you told him as you kissed his forehead.

Bradley yanked you back onto his lap and kissed you as you moaned into his mouth. "God, Princess. That's why I've been so ready for everything with you. We have Noah and the house, and I just want all of it. I want the wife and the baby, too." 

The engines were getting louder now as you ran your fingers through his hair. "Okay then. Let's just have it all. Think we should install a white picket fence at home while we're at it?" you asked with a little smirk.

"Might have to," he replied, tickling your belly until you laughed. "Gotta keep this little one safely in the yard someday."

You let your forehead rest against his as you said, "I can't wait to look at the adoption papers."

He kissed you and laughed as he said, "See that's how I planned on trapping you, Princess. You'll have to marry me before you can have that."

You groaned and pretended to remove your ring and hand it back to him. "A Princess falls in love with a Knight? Eww. Gross. I hate it. I don't want that at all." You made a disgusted face at him before you smiled and handed him a pair of earplugs. Then you stretched out on the blanket with your head in his lap, looking up at him with an open expression. "Everyone is going to think I was the one who purposely planned to get pregnant to trap you, Daddy."

Bradley looked down at you and ran his fingers along your flawless cheek while Noah dug in the cooler for a snack. "No. You're wrong. Everyone is going to look at us and see the age gap and think it's the other way around."

You kissed his palm. "They'll just assume you have a big cock," you told him plainly, and he covered your mouth with his hand while you laughed. 

When it got louder, Bradley picked up the other pair of earplugs and handed them to you. He spent the next twenty minutes with his hand on your belly, watching his little family as you and Noah looked up at the airplanes. He'd seen it all already, and right now he'd rather focus on you as you examined your engagement ring. Somehow he went from two Bradshaws to four Bradshaws today. You looked up at him with a dreamy expression as he ran his fingers along the soft fabric of your dress. You toyed with your ring lazily and nibbled on your bottom lip while he thought about you playing with Noah and a baby at the same time.

"Fuck," he groaned. As soon as you removed your earplugs, Bradley asked, "Do you want to elope? Like tomorrow maybe?"

"Tomorrow?!"

He nodded. "You know, earlier this morning, I thought I'd be happy waiting a bit if that's what you wanted. But now I'm having a change of heart. I want to get married before the baby is born."

You laughed and said, "Daddy, I haven't even called my doctor for an appointment yet!"

"I know. But I've been working so hard to make sure I have everything in order for us. Make sure you'll be safe no matter what. I'd like to get married and start the adoption process before number two arrives."

You kissed his cheek and pressed your lips to his ear as you hummed. "We can get married soon. Before the baby arrives."

"That's all I want."

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

You were exhausted as you drove home with Noah sound asleep in his car seat. The late afternoon sun was reflecting off of your ring as you wound your way along the roads that led you back into the city. Bradley was flying his jet back to North Island at this exact moment, and then he'd meet you back at home. You giggled, imagining a white fence around the house. 

The whole day felt like a dream, and you weren't quite convinced it was real. How could you have such a beautiful ring on your finger? How could your heart skip a beat every time you thought about having a baby with Bradley? It was surreal. Even the sun dipping low in the sky ahead of you seemed a little too perfect.

You had to carry Noah inside as he was still sound asleep when you got there. The house was silent other than Skittles pawing at the back door to be let out, and you found yourself anxiously sitting on the front porch step as you waited to see that familiar blue Bronco come down the street.

But of course Bradley didn't disappoint you. He never did. Not anymore. You knew it was him by the sound of the engine before you saw it. Once he was parked in the driveway, he climbed out holding a huge bouquet of flowers and made a beeline for you as you stood. 

"Hey," he said softly as he got closer, the biggest smile on his handsome face. "These are for my future wife."

Your laughter was muffled by his lips as the two of you awkwardly made your way inside the front door tangled up together. Bradley backed you up against the TV stand, and you took the flowers from his hand and let them fall softly to the floor. "I love you, Daddy," you whispered against his lips. "I was kind of afraid today was just a dream. Something too perfect that I made up."

You pushed your fingers through his messy hair, tugging a bit as you enjoyed the feel of his flight suit against your skin. Your lips parted on a gasp as he started to hike up your dress, and he tasted your tongue. He had one big hand wrapped around your thigh as he whispered, "Not a dream. It's real, Princess. Us and Noah and a baby. And I couldn't be happier."

"Mommy? Daddy?"

You turned and tried to wiggle out of Bradley's grasp when you saw those sweet brown eyes peering at you from the hallway. "Hey, Bub," Bradley rasped, letting your dress fall back into place and taking your left hand in his. Noah came trotting over to the flowers on the floor and picked them up. "I got those for Mommy from both of us."

He handed them to you just the same way he handed you the engagement ring earlier, and you bent to pick him up along with the flowers. As much as today had changed everything for you, it really changed nothing for Noah. He was still looking at you like he trusted you completely. You were still going to be his Mommy. He was still going to be loved the same way whether or not you were wearing a new piece of jewelry. He still needed to be fed dinner.

"Are you hungry?" you asked him as Bradley's hand found your back. He nodded and yawned, still looking very tired. "Then let's get your belly filled up with something delicious before you take a bath and get changed into your dinosaur pajamas, okay?"

While you dug around in the refrigerator and examined your ring, Bradley sat with Noah on his lap at the table. "I should have taken you out to celebrate with a nice meal. I could still try to call Amelia to come watch him?" he asked.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. "Absolutely not. I want all of us to eat together," you said.

"Is Amelia coming over? She's nice, but I liked when Mommy was my babysitter better," Noah said as he poked at Bradley's face. 

"Not tonight. Maybe a different night she can come over and play with you again. But actually, Bub, there's something really cool that's going to happen soon," he replied, and a wave of excitement washed over you. "Mommy and Daddy are going to have a wedding and get married."

He just shrugged like you weren't wearing a massive rock on your left hand. "Yeah. I know."

Bradley chuckled as you set the carton of eggs on the kitchen counter. "And would you like to be a big brother someday? Like maybe next year?" he asked.

Noah shrugged again, and this time you were laughing as well. "That's fine," he replied. "I'm really hungry."

"His life isn't going to change very much," you said as you started to make scrambled eggs and toast, so used to cooking in this kitchen now. "At least not right away."

"It sure isn't," Bradley agreed. "Neither is mine. I'll still have the loves of my life with me. But now you'll be wearing your ring instead of me trying to hide it everywhere."

You felt warm inside. "How long have you had it?" you asked, and Bradley blushed.

"I started looking in June. I bought it the day Skittles got her cast off."

You tried to think back to how long ago it had been that he brought the dog home cast free with a bakery box in his other hand. "That was weeks ago!"

He nodded as you were drawn to him across the room. "I've been waiting for this weekend, thinking it would be perfect for some reason. And it was," he whispered as you bent to kiss him. "I asked you to marry me, and you told me I'm going to be a dad for a second time. Best weekend ever."

You kissed him again, letting your nose bump the side of his as you smiled. "I thought you just bought it! I didn't know you've been hiding it!"

"Badly," he replied. "Hiding it badly. You stepped on the box the first night when it was in my pants pocket on the floor, and when I moved it to my dress whites jacket, you put that on for... certain activities with me." 

You gaped at him, shocked that you'd come so close to finding it but happy you hadn't.

Noah sighed. "Is my dinner ready?"

When you pulled your lips away from Bradley's, you rushed back to the stove as you groaned. "Oh, shoot." 

"I'll eat the burnt food," he promised you. "It'll still taste better than anything I cook."

You scraped the slightly brown scrambled eggs from the pan to a plate and handed it to Bradley. "That's the absolute truth."

Once everyone was fed, you found that you didn't want to be away from either of them for too long, so you all headed to the bathroom for Noah's bathtime. You sat on Bradley's lap while you and Noah played with his toys, and Bradley's big hands found their way up underneath your dress to your bare thighs once again. 

"Daddy," you whispered softly over your shoulder while he squeezed your leg. You could feel his lips and mustache skimming along the back of your neck, the sound of his breathing and soft chuckle giving you goosebumps. As you rinsed Noah's hair, you said, "It kind of just feels like a normal night."

He hummed softly as he nipped at your shoulder. "You're right. Things aren't going to change too much. But I'll be calling you my wife soon, and you'll have two kids calling you Mommy someday."

Every time he mentioned either of those, you looked at your ring as butterflies erupted in your belly. When you drained the water in the tub, you turned around so you could kiss him softly until it was time to get Noah out.

"I got him, Princess," he whispered, pulling the strap of your sundress down so it hung off your shoulder. "I still need a shower. You feel like warming it up for me?" He kissed along the same path the strap took, and you shivered as you nodded. "Perfect." He scooped Noah up with a towel and held him out to say goodnight.

"Night, sweet Noah," you told him, running your fingers along his damp cheek while he yawned. "I love you."

"I love you, Mommy."

Bradley leaned in closer and whispered, "Get that shower nice and steamy?"

You softly rolled your eyes but said, "Yes, Daddy." And then they were gone. You closed the door and stripped your dress off, turning the shower on for the two of you. He didn't immediately return, and you wondered briefly if you should have given him a hand with Noah. But you were distracted looking at your ring as the small room filled up with steam before you remembered to get in the actual shower. 

You had yourself mostly soaped up by the time Bradley resurfaced, naked except for his underwear. Even though your view was obstructed, you could tell he was hard as he stripped them off and stood again, running his hands through his hair. "I'm really excited," he murmured, and you could barely hear him over the water.

"Then get in here."

He didn't hesitate another second before he was under the spray of water with you, backing you up against the wall with his cock pressed to your belly. His body was big and warm as you shivered against the tile, and you cupped his face in your hands as the faint smell of jet fuel met your nose. 

"I'm excited too," you whispered. "And nervous."

His brow scrunched. "I didn't mean to put any pressure on a timeline for the wedding. We don't even need to have a wedding if you don't want one. I bet Tracy could draw something up if you'd prefer."

But you shook your head in response. "No. It's not that. You joked about getting married tomorrow, but I really would marry you tomorrow. And I do want a small wedding of some sort." You rubbed your fingertips against his stubble as you admitted, "I'm nervous about the baby."

The concern left his face and was replaced with a smile. "Well I can't do much about that timeline."

"Daddy!" you complained as you rolled your eyes harder this time, but you were laughing as his hand came to rest on your belly right next to his cock. 

"We'll figure it all out. I'll take care of everything." Your eyes drifted closed as his lips grazed your ear and the warm water washed over you. "I'll take care of you and Noah and the baby."

"And Skittles."

"Of course," he crooned as you wrapped your hand around his length. "She's my best friend."

Your head tipped back against the tile, and you giggled as you slowly hooked your right leg up over his hip. You rubbed yourself against his balls as you stroked his precum across his tip, and Bradley's cheeks flushed pink. Maybe it was from you or maybe from the heat of the shower, but you bit your lip when he whispered, "Does my wife want me to fuck her?"

"Soon-to-be wife," you moaned loudly, letting him slide free from your grasp as he eased his hips away from you. And then he lined himself up with your pussy, coating himself up as his hair dripped onto your shoulder. When he thrust himself inside you, the force made your footing waver, and you clung to him. 

"I got you," he promised, pinning you harder against the wall, thrusting up into you at this perfect angle. 

"Oh my god," you whined, and you watched his face change from pure softness to something a little more feral.

He gripped your thigh against his hip as he grunted, "This is nice for you?" But nice was an understatement. He was hitting all the right spots and rubbing your clit, and you were wearing his ring and he called you his wife.

"Uh huh," you agreed. "Really nice, Bradley."

His grunts were guttural as he drove your hips back to the wall, over and over, giving you more of what you wanted. Your voices mingled and echoed around the shower enclosure, all short staccato gasps of his name while he called out yours. His hand tightened around your thigh as he thrust hard and kept himself there while you clenched around him.

"You're mine," he growled. "And I'm yours. And I love you."

You couldn't quite speak as your lips quivered and your limbs shook, and you came hard, clinging to the only man who would ever make you feel this good. The only one who would ever love you with his whole heart. The only one you ever wanted to be with. The one you were going to marry.

"I love you, too."

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

Bradley had you wrapped up in a towel as he carried you into the bedroom, your cheek resting on his shoulder. He smiled when you gasped as you looked around.

Before joining you in the bathroom, he'd taken the time to put the flowers he bought on his way home in two vases on your nightstand, and he lit about a dozen candles. "I thought maybe I'd be able to wait for slightly more romantic sex with you, but I should have known the shower would be a bit of a problem for me. It always is with you."

You moaned softly, boneless and slightly fucked out in his arms as he set you on the bed. "This is perfect," you whispered. "The perfect spot for how I'm feeling right now."

He leaned down and kissed you before he got in bed beside you. "How are you feeling?"

You closed your eyes and giggled, arching your back slightly before kicking your feet. "So in love."

Bradley carefully unwrapped the towel so you were exposed to him, your skin looking flawless in the candlelight. He leaned over you and kissed your collarbone before each furled nipple as you gasped and giggled. Your skin was still a little damp as he kissed his way to your belly and smiled. You were giving him another child. You were going to let him be your husband. 

"Fuck," he groaned stroking your sides with his fingers as he nuzzled you with his nose. "I can't even describe how happy I am, Baby."

Your fingers laced through his wet hair as you whispered, "Are you calling me Baby? Or are you talking to the actual baby?"

"Both. Definitely fucking both." He let his lips drift lower on your body, and he kissed along your slit before working his way back up. "Will you humor me?" he asked, voice raspy with a different kind of need as he looked at your face. "Will you look at the adoption papers?"

You nodded and tugged him closer by his hair until his lips were on yours. "Please," you whispered into his kisses. "I want to."

Bradley's heart was thudding, pounding out a rhythm it never knew before you. "Okay," he replied with excitement. "Okay." He forced himself out of bed so he could dig around in the closet for the folder that Tracy had prepared at his request. It was easy enough to find what he was looking for in the candlelight, and he set the remaining papers on the dresser before heading back to the bed.

You were sitting up now, your face eager as you smiled. "I love Noah."

Bradley nodded, feeling completely overwhelmed as he imagined his future. "I know. You love him like I do." He eased himself down against the headboard and let you sit in front of him so you could look at the pages in his hand together. "And I know you'll take care of both of them." He kissed the side of your neck as soon as you touched the first sheet of paper in reverence with shaking hands. "As soon as we get married, I want to make this legal in every way. You already saw my updated will. I trust you as much as I trust myself, and I want to know my kids are safe with you if anything happens to me."

You silenced him with your lips before you said, "Enough of that. I just want to be Noah's mom. One hundred percent. Because I love him. That's the only reason I need."

Bradley wouldn't force his concerns on you tonight. Especially not tonight. He watched as you traced your typed out name followed by NOAH BRADSHAW on that front page, your diamond ring glittering in the dimly lit room. "That's a good enough reason for me."

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

Bless Daddy. The man can rest now. The ring is on her finger! The baby is in her belly! The love is in his heart! Should we visit Casey again? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 52

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

[joels-shitty-puns]

Javing Feelings

Javier Peña x Inexperienced!Reader

Summary: You have been dating Javier for six months now, and the two of you finally slept together for the first time as a couple (and your first time ever). However, you can't seem to stop fantasizing about giving a blowjob for the first time. Luckily you have Javi to help you learn.

Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Smut !!!!! Porn with little plot. TBH I wanted just porn but my mind wouldn't let me and gave them a back story. Oral (m receiving, f alluding to). Masturbation (f). Kissing, biting. Nipple/breast kissing/biting. Cursing. Cum eating. Dirty talk. Let me know if I forgot anything!

Other stuff: Reader is AFAB. Inexperienced. Reader and Javi work together but reader's job isn't specified.

Word Count: 3.2K

Hi!!! I hope you enjoy this fic. There's some light Spanish in here but my Spanish is rusty. It was never great to begin with, so if it sounds weird pls let me know. I haven't finished watching Narcos and I'm not sure my portrayal of Javi is great. But I wanted to try something new and my mind had this filthy idea lol. This also required me to do a little research (!!!) because I haven't done this personally. Please let me know your thoughts!

_____

It had been six months of dating Javier Peña, and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Surprised at the length of your relationship, surprised at how loving and caring he could be. Surprised at how patient he really was.

It's not that you would ever mean to say anything poorly about his character. You loved your man, and he loved you. But the rumors that used to fly around him at work for being a player and a sex god were hard to ignore. Sleeping with his informants, openly flirting with coworkers, bringing home a new woman every weekend. He was known for frequenting strip clubs and meeting up with prostitutes, and the jokes ran endlessly in the office. Most notably, they came from his partner Steve.

So when he asked you out the first time, you said no. You had never been with a man before, and it certainly wasn't going to be a one night stand with someone like Peña. He wouldn't hit it and quit it with you. You were worth more than that, and you knew it. Even if he did look at you with those big puppy eyes. Even if his chest did peek out under that hot pink shirt that made you drool, or if he licked his plump lips before placing a cigarette in the slot below his perfectly groomed mustache. Even if he did strut through the building like he owned the place, his tight jeans hugging his ass and crotch in all the right places, making you practically salivate.

You wouldn't give in to him. You wouldn't be used for sex. You wouldn't be a fuck buddy. You needed love. You deserved love. Especially for your first time.

Now, that's not to say that you didn't think of him occasionally when you let your hands wander under your covers and below your panties. Didn't think of his lips when you ran your fingers through your arousal, or circled your finger around your clit before sliding down to your entrance. It probably would feel good if he filled it…

But you wouldn't indulge in that fantasy in real life.

_____

So when the two of you were the last ones at the bar following a work happy hour one night, you were surprised to see that he hadn't left with a woman.

He swallowed down the last of his drink before standing up and tossing a bill to the bartender. “I'm going to head home, I'll see you at work,” he grabbed his jacket off the bar.

“Wait…are you okay?” You asked him curiously, though you weren't about to ask ‘why aren't you taking a woman home?’ and make him feel bad.

Javi gave you a look, studying your face as if to wonder why you would possibly care about whether he was okay. You turned him down. You didn't like him, you weren't attracted to him. Despite the friendship you'd developed from working closely together, he obviously didn't mean as much to you as you did to him.

“I'm fine, cariño. Nothing to worry about,” he headed towards the door.

“Wait… Javi?” You grabbed your purse and your coat, throwing down a tip on the bar before following him out the door.

“Clearly something's wrong with you, why don't you talk to me?” You pleaded, stopping within touching-distance of him on the sidewalk. “Did I do something?”

“No,” he sighed. “You didn't do anything wrong. It's just me,” he shook his head, turning to walk away.

“Is this because I said I wouldn't go out with you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

He turned, letting his eyes flash with sadness for only a second before responding. “It's okay, hermosa” he sighed. “You don't feel the same way and that's fine.”

You gave him a confused look, your eyebrows furrowing. “Do you actually have feelings for me, Javi?”

“Of course I have feelings for you cariño, why do you think I asked you out?” he ran his hand through his hair.

“I don't know…” you answered quietly, fiddling with your hands.

“Because I just wanted to fuck?” He spat.

You looked up at him, unsure of what to say. “I didn't think you'd ever actually want me because… I don't know what I'm doing. I'm inexperienced. I've never had sex before, Javi. And I don't want to lose it without building a relationship based on love first.” You whimpered, and briefly noticed a flash of surprise on his face. “And yes, not to be a bitch, but you really do have a reputation for getting around town…” you dropped your hands at your side with a sigh.

“I know,” he groaned. “I do, and I'm guilty of using sex as a coping mechanism. But I really am interested in you, cariño. And if you'd give me a chance, I'll go as slow as you want or need. I’ve spent so many nights trying to fuck away my emotions and it hasn't helped. But,” he ran his hand down his face before continuing. “The first time I saw you, it's like everything felt… easier when I was around you.”

He took a step towards you. “I tried to push the feelings aside, because truthfully it scared the shit out of me. I haven't had those feelings in a very long time, if ever. But pushing it away never worked with you.” He reached for your hand, and you took it.

_____ 

Ever since that moment, the two of you have been slowly developing a meaningful relationship. From your first date, to your first kiss, Javi has been nothing but sweet and patient. It wasn't until recently when you decided to let him take your virginity.

You were beyond nervous, especially upon seeing the size of him. But he was gentle and loving, making sure you were ready well before he entered you. You couldn't have asked for a nicer first time, or a sweeter man. 

But there was still one thing you hadn't tried yet that you had been itching to attempt.

It's something you had thought of before, while watching porn or daydreaming. A fantasy you considered while developing your feelings on Javi and imagining him. But when you finally saw his cock with your own eyes for the first time, it was like a spell spread over you and you wouldn't be able to expel it until you gave in to your desires.

So when Javi told you he'd be coming over to spend the weekend, you couldn't wait to play out your fantasy. 

_____

Javier opened the door to your apartment, using the key you gave him last month after you first exchanged I-Love-Yous. Dropping his bag on the kitchen bar, he strolled over to you, pulling you into a deep kiss, letting his hands graze over your ass with a squeeze. “Mi amor,” he whispered, nibbling your ear.

“Javi…” you replied breathlessly already. He pulled away, giving you a mischievous look with his raised brow. Sure, it wasn't uncommon for you to be putty in his hands, but he could tell something had gotten into you today.

“What's got you all worked up, querida?” He kissed your lips again, asking for entrance to your mouth, to which you obliged. “Cat got your tongue?” He practically purred, scraping his teeth against your tongue before gently biting your lip.

You moaned into his mouth before pulling away just enough to whisper. “I wanna try something, Javi…”

He kissed you deeper, then drew back to look into your eyes. “What do you want to try, mi paloma?” (My dove)

Based on his response, you could only imagine his mind was assuming you had chaste fantasies of kissing him in public, or sex in a slightly more adventurous position than the missionary you started with.

But for the first time, you surprised him when you whispered in his ear, “please, let me suck your dick, Javi.”

He froze, swallowing thickly, letting you see his Adam's apple bob. His eyes were wide as saucers. “You..” he stumbled over his words.

“Mmhm…”, you began to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt.

“You don't have to do that, cariño.” His tongue darted out over his lips, the surprise making his mouth dry.

“Please, Javi,” you whined. “I want to. I can't stop thinking about it. Especially after I saw you on our first night together. I want it so badly. Let me taste you. Let me please you.”

“Especially? You mean you had thought of it before we made love?” He asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Ever since I saw you in those tight pants the first day we met,” you kissed his lips, finally unbuttoning the last button on his shirt before pulling it down his shoulders as the two of you stumbled into the bedroom.

“Fuck. Dirty girl,” he hissed, removing your shirt and kissing you, all the while wrapping his arms around your waist to seamlessly unhook your bra. His hands swept over your sides before returning to your chest to cup your breasts.

Javi’s kisses traced from your lips down to your neck before finally taking your nipple between his lips. He gently sucked on it, swirling his tongue around and giving gentle nibbles to your breasts. 

You unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding them down just enough for his cock to release from the confines and bounce to attention. He was already hard and waiting, his tip drooling precum.

“Sit,” you told him, pushing down on his shoulder and directing him towards the edge of the bed.

“Sí, señorita,” he answered, easily caving to your demands and removing the rest of his pants from his legs. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he spread his thighs apart, giving you ample space to work with, his heavy cock bouncing against his torso with every movement.

Your mouth watered as you sank to your knees on the carpet and crawled over between his legs, the space you wished to live in. Running your hands up his thighs, you spread him even further.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, sending a wave of lust through Javi’s body before you spoke. “I've never done this before Javi. You may need to help guide me.”

Javi looked to the sky in silent praise as you turned your attention back to his waiting cock. You were now eye to eye with it, and slowly you moved your hand to wrap around his length. You gently pulled his foreskin down to reveal his most sensitive area, causing Javier to tremble at the contact. But it wasn't until you began to stroke him while placing a gentle kiss to his leaking tip that his body jerked forward in need. You gave a light lick, swirling your tongue around him before taking him in your mouth completely. 

The taste was new. His precum tasted salty and slightly sweet, but mostly you tasted clean skin and saliva. His scent is what really took over your senses. The natural scent that made your mouth water the first time you smelled him. The aroma that distinctly meant… Javi. 

He wore a cologne that made you swoon, kept strong enough to fill your nostrils, but not overpowering to be used in lieu of a shower. Javi always smelled nice. Clean and freshly shaved, he had a light scent of soap, aftershave, shaving cream, and men's deodorant. The lingering scent of shampoo. The sweet smell of nicotine and a whispered bite of alcohol. Leather from his jacket. The cool intensity of his mint toothpaste and gum that always seemed to nip at your nose when he spoke.

Even when he had just run across the city to chase a criminal, his sweat and musk drew you in like a feral animal. The way his pink shirt clung to his soaked back, chest, and arms; the way his wet hair fell onto his forehead. Your eyes wanted to live on his skin. As much as you tried to ignore Javi those first months of knowing each other, everything about him made you want to jump his bones. His persona oozed sexual appeal and that scared you. That made you want to run for the hills.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, head tilting back while his hips jerked upwards of their own accord. You removed your lips with a sucking pop and once again ran your hands over his thighs. You kept reaching, wrapping your arms around his back and grabbing the part of his ass that wasn't seated with a squeeze.

“Does this feel good, Javi?” You leaned in, licking the underside of his penis from the base to the head, stopping at the tight frenulum tissue and kissing, just like you would his lips.

“Fuck, yes, mierda, keep going,” Javi whined, jerking his hips forward, his tip brushing your waiting lips.

“Tell me how you want it, Javi,” you took the head in your mouth, licking and sucking.

“Just like that. Fuck. Swirl your tongue around,” he demanded.

You obliged, swirling your tongue around the head and finally the leaking tip, your lips still surrounding him. You sunk down further, taking more of him in your mouth and licking the veins on his underside as you slowly drifted further, his tip reaching the back of your throat.

“Fuck, yes,” Javi whimpered, babbling a string of curses as you began to work him in your mouth, up and down, your hand meeting the rhythm of your mouth. Saliva dropped from your mouth as you worked faster, Javier groaning in response. You went to wipe your chin with your other hand, only to have your wrist grabbed. “Leave it,” he hissed. “You look so fucking sexy like this, baby. Drunk on my cock, messy and blown out. Fuck, you're so good,” he rambled.

You smiled around his dick, continuing your movements and letting out a moan of your own pleasure. Finally you had him in your mouth and it was everything you imagined. This wouldn't be the last time, and you could hardly wait to taste his release.

Your hips jerked forward, pussy clenching on air, and you reached down with your other hand to rub frantic circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed closed as you continued to play with both him and now yourself. Whimpers and moans fell from your lips and his, Javi lifting his head from the back of his neck to look down at you.

“Shit. Baby, are you touching yourself too? Pussy so desperate to be filled when my cock is in your mouth?” His voice rumbled, deep and primal, yet pained and desperate all the same.

“Mmhm,” you choked, trying to take him deeper than your throat would allow.

Javi reached out, cupping the back of your head as you took him as far as you could, stroking the rest of him with the hand not between your own legs. Your eyes squeezed tighter, tears brimming as you pushed too far again. “Gentle mi amor, you'll hurt yourself. Too big for that tight throat of yours,” he cooed, gripping your hair tighter. Saliva continued to drip from your mouth as you worked him faster, matching the rhythm with the hand on your clit. You inserted two fingers into your pussy, pumping a few times before alternating between your sensitive clit again.

Both Javi's and your hips jerked forward at their own accord, your bodies so desperate for release, you were both right on the cusp of teetering over the edge. Your moans and whimpers grew louder, Javi's curses continuing, yet the slick noise of wet skin from your mouth and hands prevailed as the loudest in the room. Squelching and sucking filled the air, an orchestra of filthy euphony.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby, where do you want it?” Javi strained to ask, tension lining his jaw.

You removed him just enough to reply, “my mouth, please, Javi, let me taste you.” Immediately you returned your attention to the task at hand.

“Shit,” he groaned as you pumped the length of his cock that didn't meet your lips. His hips jerked and release spilled onto your tongue, salty and sweet. With his climax, you fell over your pleasure point as well, body shaking and tensing, your thighs clenching around your fingers as you frantically rocked against the air. You let out a pained squeal around his cock as you came in your hand.

His hips began to slow, the last of his salty release dripping onto your tongue. With a final suck, you removed your mouth with a pop and opened your mouth for Javi. White, creamy release dripped from your tongue onto his thigh and quickly you closed your mouth with a giggle, swallowing him and licking the spilled cum from his leg.

Meeting your eyes with his, Javi looked absolutely wrecked, his eyes dark and hair disheveled. He panted, and despite having just finished, you could still see the fire of lust in his stare. You imagined you looked the same, drunk on his cock and his release, your own orgasm having just subsided as well. You were somehow still hungry for more, and it seemed you were never fully quenched with Javi around. You'd always want more, no matter how much he gave you.

Javi grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap to straddle him. Though he was softening under you, your hips still jerked at the contact. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You pulled away, looking at him a moment before asking “you don't mind kissing me after I just had your cum in my mouth?”

Javi looked at you as if you spoke another language before realizing you meant it. “Fuck no, baby that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I don't mind tasting myself on your tongue. Ever,” he kissed you again, deeper this time. His tongue swirled with yours and you tasted his cum and his saliva, his scent filled your nose, and his body encompassed yours. Everything around you was Javi.

“I don't mind tasting myself on your lips either,” you pulled away, whispering shyly before going in for another kiss.

Javi pecked your lips, pulling away and raising his brow. “Oh? No?” He teased you. Your cheeks heated and you began to look away, but he lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “We can make that happen,” he growled, kissing your lips and picking you up from his lap. He manhandled you like a sack of flour, easily tossing you to the bed with ease as he settled between your legs, his mouth inches from your waiting pussy. 

“Ready for round two?” He smirked, nipping your thigh.

“Always, with you Javi,” you whined, and he dove in, pleasuring you the way you did him. 

You were never surprised at his sexual prowess, but once again you were pleasantly amazed at his level of care and love he devoted to you. You didn't regret waiting, though you were glad he was willing to wait with you. The new experiences with him just grew better and better with each day.

If you told yourself months ago that you would be in bed, in love, happily wrapped in the arms of Javier Peña, you would have laughed at the thought. But then again, life is full of surprises.

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[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

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

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