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crazymadpassionatelove · 6 months ago

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Cool Fiancè

Notes: 18+ sex mentioned

Special shout-out to @ab4eva and her fabulous editing skills! This is the second installment in my cool girl saga. Read Part 1 here

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Five Things to know about Austin Butler’s New Fiance ::

Although his reps couldn't be reached for comment, sources close to the Elvis actor confirm he has popped the question to his mysterious lady love!

Butler and the stunning brunette were recently spotted at the iconic Les Puces market in Paris last Friday, and she seemed to be sporting a new accessory. Austin was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white v neck tee, and black moto boots. She was clad in a classic trench coat and vintage Dior kitten heels as she kept her head down and let the winner lead the way. His face was mostly obscured by aviator sunglasses, but his smile was very apparent according to onlookers. “Austin was holding her hand and pointing out jewelry at different booths. They were very friendly with local vendors and Austin ended up buying her a gold charm bracelet. He told the dealer the bracelet was a momento to celebrate their recent engagement,” a fellow American tourist overheard. The twosome reportedly spent the prior week soaking in the city of lights and meeting with the YSL fashion house. Austin was recently tapped as the brand's newest ambassador.

Since returning stateside paparazzi pics have finally surfaced and revealed a closer look at that ring. Montana based indie jeweler Jada Kaye has been revealed as the designer of that serious sparkler. The 5 carat, flawless emerald-cut emerald is set in solid gold and flanked by two white diamonds on either side. Inside sources told Elle Magazine that Kaye and Butler worked closely together to craft the one of a kind creation. There's even rumored to be an inscription on the inside that's significant to the couple and the ring is estimated to cost a cool $100,000. Austin's fiancè was photographed heading into a ballet studio yesterday wearing pink tights, a pink leotard, Ugg boots, and of course that ring. Her curly dark brown hair was slicked back into a bun and she seemed to be sporting a pair of the actor's sunglasses.

Here's everything you need to know about the future Mrs. Austin Butler;

She's from New England —

A, as she's known, was born in Rhode Island. She grew up splitting her time between Rhode Island and Kennebunkport, Maine. Her teenage years were spent working the local Del’s lemonade truck, former neighbors say. She attended the Rhode Island School of Design after high school but never graduated.

She and Austin met via her former job –

Whilst working at the New York location of Vibrant Vintage, A, served as the fashion archives buyer. She also happened to be on hand when Butler visited the store. Supposedly she helped him find the perfect pair of leather boots, and the rest is history. Things clearly moved quickly between the two lovebirds, with A relocating to Los Angeles not long after. According to Vibrant Vintage, she is no longer employed there but “remains a close friend and consultant,” says their PR team.

She's a hit with his friends –

She organized a birthday party for her man’s co-star and close friend, Callum Turner. Turner posted an Instagram story showing off a fairly large garden party celebration and a “homemade blueberry glaze cake” according to the post. “Huge thanks to Austin's lovely lady xx” accompanied the video footage. She and Austin were also seen dining with his other Masters of the Air co-star, Nate Mann, while in Paris recently.

They've (supposedly ) got matching ink –

An unnamed employee at the iconic Bang Bang tattoo in NYC has said that Austin and A made a late night visit to the tattoo studio. Where exactly are the said-to-be matching minimalistic tattoos? Reportedly, Austin was inked on his left hip and A on her inner left thigh.

Old fashioned love letters are her thing -

Notably social media shy, Austin and A have taken up the lost art of handwritten love notes. Sources exclusively say that custom monogrammed stationery was crafted for the duo whilst Austin was filming in England. The hand pressed, vintage inspired paper bears a unique coat of arms style symbol with intertwining letter A’s and two sparrows (Fun fact! Sparrows mate for life and always find their way back, no matter how far they fly). While separated, the couple often writes letters to one another, even having the letters sent via jet instead of mail for privacy reasons!

_______

Suddenly one morning articles begin to pour in about your engagement. It catches you off guard, that ring akin to a skating rink has been sitting pretty on your hand for a bit now. The engagement had happened so naturally as everything with the two of you seems to. In the early morning hours while his swollen, rock hard member thrusts into you repeatedly you begin to awaken. On your side, his teeth clamp down on your shoulder as his finger twirls round the curls at the nape of your neck.

His gasps and needy groans tickle your ear. “Couldn't help myself..”, he shudders as you suddenly clamp down around him, barely able to register it all. You stretch and arch, allowing him the room and space to take what he needs. It is his after all. His teeth and pillowy soft lips mark your shoulder blades and when you reach down to where the two of you are joined, you feel his very full balls. Your newly manicured fingers tease and tug the best you can, scrunched up like some sort of acrobat. “Ugh, ugh…baby… you're gonna make me -”. Then he does. Hot, viscous, cream floods you and makes you sigh in a contented whimper. “Thanks darlin’,” he pets your head and you close your eyes dreamily. That is until you hear him rustling around in the bedside table next to him.

You cock open an eye, figuring he's looking for smokes or even the book he had been reading late last night. Your hands are stretched above your head, gripping a pillow. The perfect position for him to suddenly slip the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you've ever seen onto your finger. When your eyes shoot open and you jump up, he's lying there grinning that smile that makes you weak at the knees. “Will you be my wife?” As if your answer would be anything but yes, please Daddy. You smother him in kisses, straddling him and giggling. It's the perfect moment, the perfect proposal. You were never one to want a fireworks display or heaven forbid, those ridiculous and wasteful walls of flowers other celebrities seem to have for every occasion. This private, simple moment is everything you could ask for.

You feel the sudden urge to take him in your mouth despite him just finishing. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you take him down your throat. Choking and gagging, you really give it your all. Fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his lip curls and his eyes slam shut. Talking is always your thing. This time, though, he's sputtering and rasping words of utter devotion and love. Promises to worship your body until the day he dies. My perfect, perfect wife. Soon you can't be sure if the tears are from his cock down your throat, or his beautiful words. Maybe both. Those pretty boy fingers twist and tug on your nipples and then crawl lower and flick that special spot. The only fireworks you enjoy happen, twice for you actually. He's so dutiful and charming, when you're done pulling yourself back together and fixing your hair, he's handing you a surprise glass of champagne. What a way to mark the occasion.

You decline a proper press announcement. Phone and FaceTime calls follow to those who truly matter to you both - your families, both absolutely thrilled. Then Baz, Cal, The Presley's, everyone can't stop gushing about how perfect you are for each other. That ring, oh how sweet he designed it himself. You come up with a family-appropriate story to describe the proposal and the evening that followed, conveniently leaving out the mind-blowing sex the two of you have all over the house and in the hot tub. Why do things feel so different now that you're engaged? You can't get over the way the light hits the ring as you stroke him and something in that dirty girl heart of yours feels like it's really, truly, official when you have to clean his cum off the stone.

He's due back to set for some reshoots a few days later and of course you follow. Bringing throw pillows from your living room to spruce up his trailer and plotting out how to plan the most private, under the radar wedding possible while you lounge in his trailer in a cute little dress you sew yourself from vintage scarves bought in London. Your newest hobby, that and the ballet classes. He yammers on and on about wanting to sneak in and see you dance. You're sure it's just the tights and leotards spurring his interest though, let's be real. The paparazzi are as relentless as ever, but head down with big sunglasses helps keep the chaos at bay.

You visit Disney World, a whole crew, the two of you, your families, friends with their little ones. Thankfully Disney security is familiar with celebrity guests and you can actually let your guard down for once. Which is good, because seeing Austin chase after your friend's newly toddling little ones makes your stomach flip flop with joy. You make a mental note to expedite the wedding plans, he makes it known that he's chomping at the bit to be a father. When you visit Main Street, you decide a pair of new Mickey ears are in order. Gold stitching with Mrs. Butler is what you finally decide on after Austin's encouragement, his hand on your lower back as you walk miles and miles around the park with hands full of churros and cotton candy. Sure, some overzealous fans snap cell phone pics of you with your ears and immediately post them to those ridiculous Austin fan blogs who've now decided you are the evil villain in his story. You won't allow them to burst your Disney bubble though. Your fairytale is just beginning after all.

#ashley finally writes #Cool Girl #Cool Fiance #austin butler #austin x reader #austin butler au #austin butler imagine #elvis presley #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis x reader #lana del ray aesthetic #cool girl #Priscilla #elvis x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #elvis smut

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edsbug · 5 months ago

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Adrenalin

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: you and eddie are rivals in the street racing underworld. as you navigate the world of street racing, sparks fly not just on the track but between you both. (wc: 2466)

cw: 18+ NSFW, mdni! enemies to lovers, street racing, author knows nothing about cars, max makes a cameo, alcohol consumption, eddie smokes, reader gives eddie a handjob in his car, includes the ‘stare and drive’ scene from 2 fast 2 furious.

authors note: i binge watched every fast and furious film over the weekend and came up with this. english is not my first language. this is my first fic ever. pls be kind<3

The roar of engines fills the night air as you roll up to the street race, your car’s headlights slicing through the darkness. The scene ahead is a chaotic blend of neon lights, the murmur of excited voices, and the unmistakable smell of burning rubber. Cars of every make and model are lined up along the street, their drivers and crews preparing for the night’s events.

You slowly navigate through the crowd, your yellow Mustang drawing a few admiring glances and murmurs of recognition.

You pull up to the starting line, the engine purring beneath you. As you step out of your car, the crowd's eyes follow you. You’ve built a reputation here, known for your skill behind the wheel. This was your domain, the place where you felt the most alive. You stood by the hood of your car, giving the engine a final look over, when you heard the familiar sound of heavy metal blasting out of a cars stereo.

Eddie Munson, with his wild hair and even wilder reputation. He was known for his reckless driving and his ability to charm his way out of any trouble. You’d clashed more times than you could count, both on and off the track. To say there was bad blood between you was an understatement.

You glanced over at him now, his figure fully illuminated by the street lights. He was leaning against his jet black Camaro parked on the starting line, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses despite the nocturnal hour. His long wavy hair was dancing slightly in the cool wind and his black leather jacket hugged his figure just right. He pushed off the car and walked over, each step echoing with confidence.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him distract you. But deep down, you can't deny the thrill of his attention, the way his gaze lingers on you.

"Well, well, well," Eddie drawls with a smirk, standing in front of you now. "Look who decided to show up."

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm not missing a chance to wipe that smirk off your face."

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You know, I almost admire your confidence sweetheart. Almost."

You cross your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "Keep talking, Eddie. We'll see who's laughing when I cross that finish line first."

Eddie steps closer, his voice dropping to a murmur only you can hear. "You know, there's something kinda hot about how determined you are. Maybe I should let you win, just this once."

You feel a flush rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let him see you flustered. "Don't do me any favors, Eddie. I can win on my own."

His eyes sparkle with amusement. "Feisty. I like that."

For a moment, the noise of the crowd fades, and it's just the two of you, standing toe to toe. There's an intensity in Eddie's gaze that makes your breath catch, a challenge and something else — something softer, more vulnerable.

Before you had a chance to retort, the announcer's voice boomed over the crowd, calling for the racers to get in their cars. You shot Eddie a glare before climbing into your car.

A girl with fiery red hair, a familiar face at these events and known only as Max, steps forward with a bandana in hand. With a swift motion, she raises it high, signaling the impending start. “On my count!” she shouts, her voice slicing through the midnight air. The crowd presses closer, the tension almost unbearable.

“Three, two, one…”

You and Eddie exchange one last look, the tension between you almost electric. No matter what happens tonight, one thing is certain: this race is about to change everything.

“Go!”

The bandana fell, and you both launched forward, leaving the rest of the pack in your wake. Your tires screeched in protest against the asphalt, the scenery now a blur of neon lights, a kaleidoscope of urban chaos. The Mustang’s engine roared as you shifted gears, the car responding to your every command. The crowd's cheers became distant, lost in the sheer focus of the race.

Eddie’s Camaro was right beside you, keeping pace with ease. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, his focus unwavering, his hands steady on the wheel. The first corner came up fast, and you both drifted through it, your cars dancing dangerously close.

These streets were your racetrack, a twisting, turning maze of asphalt and danger. You both knew every shortcut, every hazard. You pushed your throttle, the engine growling as you accelerated out of a turn, trying to gain the upper hand.

Eddie was relentless, his Camaro a shadow that refused to be shaken. He edged closer, trying to force you into a mistake. You could feel the pressure, but you welcomed it, the challenge only fueling you.

Eddie took the turn wide, trying to use his Camaro’s power to overtake you on the straightaway. You saw your opportunity and floored the gas, your Mustang surging forward, the gap widening ever so slightly.

As you approached the final stretch, the finish line in sight, you felt a surge of exhilaration. You were going to win. But Eddie wasn’t done yet. He pulled up beside you, his Camaro matching your speed. The finish line was seconds away, and it was going to be close.

With one last burst of speed, you pushed your Mustang to its absolute limit, the engine roaring in protest. You crossed the finish line a split second before Eddie, the crowd erupting. You jumped out of your car, excitement coursing through you.

Eddie pulled up beside you, his expression a mix of frustration and something that looked suspiciously like respect. He got out of his car and walked over, his dark eyes behind his aviators meeting yours.

"Not bad," he said, his voice softer than before.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's it? 'Not bad'? I just beat you."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, you did. Fair and square."

For a moment, you stood there, the rivalry between you shifting, evolving into something else. The tension was still there, but now it was mingled with curiosity and an unexpected connection. As the crowd celebrated around you, you realized that this was just the beginning of a new race—one that had nothing to do with cars and everything to do with the two of you.

As days seamlessly turn into weeks, you find yourself at the races every night, pushing harder, racing faster. And there, like a shadow cast by the neon lights, is Eddie — ever present, a persistent thorn in your side.

One night, after a particularly grueling race that left your nerves frayed and your car in serious need of attention, Eddie finds you tinkering with the engine, frustration etched on your face. "Need a hand?" he offers, surprising you with his sincerity.

You glance up, ready to snap at him, but something in his expression makes you pause. There’s a softness to his brown eyes. Reluctantly, you nod. "Fine. Just don't expect me to thank you."

He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves revealing a canvas of tattoos. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” he replies, his smirk tinged with a hint of mischief, as if he relishes in the challenge of breaking through your walls.

He works on the engine, his hands moving with practiced ease as he explains the intricate mechanics. As you work side by side, a strange camaraderie develops. Eddies knowledge on cars is impressive, and against your better judgement, you find yourself drawn to his company. Beyond his tough façade as a racer lies an unexpected kindness that surfaces in fleeting moments.

One night, as you sit on the hood of your car, eyes on the distant city lights, Eddie joins you, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He hands you a beer. "You've got talent, you know," he says, voice slightly muffled around the cigarette. "Why do you race?"

You take a sip, contemplating how much to reveal. "I love the rush, the competition. It's where I feel alive."

Eddie takes a quick drag from the cigarette as his expression softens. "I get that”, he murmured. “There's this allure, you know? The rush, the risk. It's addictive."

You nod, a comfortable silence settling between you. The rivalry that once defined your relationship has matured into something more complex, delving into emotions not spoken yet keenly felt.

Suddenly Eddie turns to you, a mischievous look in his deep brown eyes. "How about we make a bet?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of bet?"

"Next race. If you win, I take you out on a date. If I win, you take me out."

You can't help but laugh. "You're assuming I'd want to go on a date with you?”

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Oh, you'll want to. Trust me."

Against your better judgment, you find yourself nodding. "Deal."

Eddie stomps the cigarette butt out on the pavement, a smirk playing on his lips as he saunters off into the distance.

The next race is intense, the stakes higher than ever. You push your Mustang to its limits, determined to beat Eddie and win the bet. But as you cross the finish line, neck and neck with him, it's clear that it's a tie.

Eddie laughs, pulling up beside you. "Looks like we both win, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "Fine. One date."

Eddie's idea of a date is a late-night drive in his Camaro. He's cruising at a steady speed, the sound of the engine a low hum in the background. Eddie looks over at you in the passenger seat, almost admiring you.

You catch him staring. "You might want to keep your eyes on the road, playboy."

"You think we're gonna crash?" he asks, still staring.

You ponder, "I haven't decided yet".

Eddie upshifts to a higher gear and slams the throttle, the gravity pushing you both back in your seats. Eddie shifts his focus entirely to you, his eyes fixed on yours as he maintains the high speed. The road stretches ahead, but Eddie doesn’t lose eye contact with you, his expression confident and playful. Suddenly, Eddie expertly stops the car at a red light, never once looking away from you.

"Not bad. But you’re not gonna keep this up the whole way, are you?" you ask, playfully.

Eddie chuckles softly, a soft pink taking over his cheeks.

You arrive at a secluded overlook, where the city lights spread out below like a sea of stars. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the city, and the only sound is the gentle hum of the engine.

You steal a glance at Eddie, the streetlights casting shadows across his features, accentuating the rugged lines of his jaw and the intensity in his dark eyes. He's so close, his presence filling the small space between you, igniting a fire deep within you that you struggle to contain.

"This view...it's breathtaking", you say, softly.

"Yeah, it's not bad. But it's got nothing on the view in here," Eddie smirks, his gaze intensifying further.

And then your lips collide in a fierce, desperate kiss, a mix of passion and longing that leaves you breathless. Eddie's hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body with a feverish urgency that sends shivers down your spine.

As the kiss deepens, you straddle his lap. Your palm teasing him through the fabric of his jeans. Eddie groans into your mouth, his hands grabbing your hips.

You melt into him, your hands tangling in his long curly hair as you lose yourself in the moment, forgetting everything but the heat of his touch and the taste of his lips against yours. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before, a rush of adrenaline that threatens to consume you both.

And then, without warning, Eddie's hand slips beneath your shirt, his touch sending sparks flying across your skin. You gasp, your body arching into his as he trails kisses down your neck. You moan softly, the sound lost in the darkness as you give yourself over to him completely.

"God, you drive me crazy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

With careful, deliberate movements, you begin to undo his belt and zipper. Your hand slips inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around him. "Good," you whisper, stroking him slowly. "Because you drive me crazy too."

Eddie lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the headrest. "That's it, baby," he rasps, his voice heavy with desire. "Just like that."

You respond with a seductive smile, your own need driving you to push him closer to the edge. "You like that, huh?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear.

Eddie's grip on your hips tighten, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you continue to stroke him. "God, yes," he groans, his hips instinctively bucking against your hand.

You watch as his breathing becomes more erratic. His hand grabs your thigh, his fingers digging into the skin as he struggles to maintain control. The sight of him like this, completely at your mercy, sends a thrill through you.

"Eddie," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin. "You look so good like this”.

He responds with a deep, guttural moan, his free hand coming up to cup your face.

"Don't stop," he pleads, his voice a strained whisper. "Please." His deep brown eyes stare into yours.

You increase the pace of your movements, your hand gliding up and down his length with more urgency. Eddie's breathing becomes more ragged, his body tensing as he gets closer to the edge. The way his body reacts to your touch only spurs you on.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Eddie reaches his climax, his release hot and overwhelming. He clings to you, his body trembling with the aftershocks. You hold him through it, your hand slowing its movements, offering comfort as much as pleasure.

“You're incredible,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “So are you.”

In the quiet aftermath, with the engine still purring softly, Eddie holds you, his breath warm against your ear. “I never saw this coming,” he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability and a hint of awe.

You smile against his shoulder, your fingers tracing the curve of his neck. "Neither did I," you confess, feeling the undeniable pull of something more exhilarating than any race you've ever won.

taglist: @waywardrose, @brystiniercorner

divider credit: @strangergraphics

#bug writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #street racing au #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #enemies to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Batting Practice Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Now that Bradley had the ring, he didn't want to wait. He kept thinking about what it would mean to move in with you and Everett and be a family. He wanted all of it. So he got Everett to help him out one last time.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You locked your office door and sank down into your seat. You were too nervous to eat the lunch you packed for yourself as you got your phone out to call your lawyer. It had taken you a few days, but you decided what you wanted to do about Danny. It wasn't ideal, but you'd do it.

As you sat and listened to the hold music playing in your ear, you poked at your sad looking salad. Danny was going to blow up at you after this. And it would be months and months before you saw a cent, but you supposed it was the best you could get since you couldn't get Danny stripped of parental rights. Tears pricked at your eyes, because you just wanted him gone. Good and truly gone with no ability to come back and hurt Everett again.

When your lawyer returned to the line, you told him that you wanted to move forward with serving papers to Danny to petition for child support. If you couldn't get rid of Danny, at least you could pad Ev's college account or help him buy a car someday.

"You do understand that Daniel can take four months to contest the petition? And that's on top of the time it may take to serve him the papers?"

You rested your forehead on your desk and took a deep breath. At least you would be the one dealing all of this shit behind the scenes so Ev wouldn't have to know about it. But Bradley was always imploring you to be more open with him about this, so you'd have to figure out how to tell him that Danny was here to stay. Unless you and Bradley ever got married. Unless Bradley ever wanted to petition to adopt Everett.

"Yes," you said, your voice only a harsh whisper. "I understand. We can proceed."

As your melancholy settled in, you decided to text Molly about what you did. It didn't take long for your sister to respond. She must not have been working right now. You never could manage to keep track of her schedule, so you had no idea how Bob was so efficient with it.

Danny is a little baby cocksucker bitch! Bleed him dry! Do it for Ev! I'll help you take over the world after I have a nap.

You snorted, pleased that not a moment had passed since your parents died when Molly was not one hundred percent on your team. And now you had Bradley. And you supposed you had Bob, too.

A sharp knock on your office door had you jumping in your seat. "Coming," you called, scrambling to go unlock the door only to find Bradley standing there in his khaki uniform with a bunch of tulips and a wrapped sandwich. His aviators were perched on the tip of his nose, and he looked like a fantasy. You could see three of the receptionists leaning out of their cubicles to get a better look at him.

"Kitten," he whispered with a grin before kissing your cheek. When you silently pushed your door open wider, he brushed past you, and you closed it behind him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked breathlessly. He set the food and the flowers down on your desk, and you rushed into his arms.

"I just missed you," he whispered in your ear. "And it's Tuesday. Technically the slowest day of the week. I needed a pick-me-up." And with that, he scooped you up into his arms while you gasped, and he deposited you on the edge of your desk.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," you told him, reaching out to pull him closer. He tossed his sunglasses onto your desk, and then you couldn't even remember what you wanted to tell him. Something about your lawyer? His hands were on your bare knees, sliding up under your black skirt.

"You know I love this," he whispered, pushing your skirt up your bare thighs. "I like to daydream about this skirt. On your bedroom floor. Or all bunched up around your waist."

You coaxed his lips down to yours with your finger under his chin and kissed him softly. "I have some free time right now."

Instantly, he was lifting your butt up off of your desk and yanking your skirt up over your hips and around your waist. You squealed with delight as he set you back down and smiled as he knelt in front of you. "Really?" he asked, nudging your inner thigh with his nose and kissing you there.

"Yes," you giggled as he looked up at you. When you spread your legs wide for him, he kissed your core through your underwear, and you gasped, "Go lock my door, Coach."

He dipped his long index finger inside the lace fabric and nudged your clit with his knuckle. "Where's the fun in that?"

You moaned, and then you were shimmying your underwear down your legs. Bradley tucked them into pocket, and you couldn't believe you were letting him do this with the door unlocked. But the prickle of his mustache along your slit had you grabbing at the back of his head and spreading open further for him.

He licked a long stripe from your opening up to nibble on your clit, and you dug your fingers into his hair. "That's a good Kitten," he rasped, kissing along your pussy and thighs as he slipped his index finger inside you. Just a few strokes and you were whining for him, your thighs clamping around his head. But he pushed them apart again and kept them in place with his other, huge hand.

"Bradley," you gasped, and he pulled you a little closer to the edge as he sucked on your clit. "Oh god."

He released you and licked a circle that had you tugging on his hair. "Wanna make sure you think about me when you're at work, Baby," he grunted before rubbing his mustache through your wetness until you were getting a little loud.

"Bradley!" you whined. He was good. You leaned back on one hand as he made your legs shake. And when he looked up at you as he circled your clit lazily with his tongue, you knew you were getting close. "Keep going," you told him, rocking against his face a little bit.

The sight of him buried between your legs with your fingers messing up his hair took you all the way. Because when he wrapped his lips around your clit one more time, you came for him. Loud and needy. And then you slowly sat fully upright again while your ears buzzed. He was still placing soft kisses on you everywhere that used to be covered by your underwear.

"I love you, Kitten," he whispered as he squeezed your thighs and stood up to kiss you. His mustache was wet, and you licked him while you moaned softly. His whole face tasted like you as you licked and kissed him. It was intoxicating, and you pulled him closer so the front of his uniform pants rubbed against your pussy. He was rock hard.

"You wanna?" you asked him as he stroked his fingers along your cheek.

"Fuck, you know I do," he promised, rubbing his mustache down your neck. "But I need to get back to work."

You bit your lip and watched him reluctantly pull away from you and adjust himself. There was a little wet spot on his pants that absolutely thrilled you as you asked, "Where's my underwear?"

His smile was smug. "In my pocket. I'm gonna hang them in my locker at work like a little souvenir."

You gasped, your pussy still bare for him with your skirt hiked up. An embarrassingly needy little sound escaped you as he patted his right pocket.

"I hope you don't mind if the guys see them."

You pressed your lips together. You actually really liked that underwear. They were a stretchy white lace thong that you found comfortable. But if Bradley wanted to put them in his locker and think of you every time he hit the shower, then you were more than happy to let him have them.

"I don't mind," you whispered. "But you know you're going to make Bob blush, right?"

Bradley kissed your forehead and said, "Molly has broken him in, I think. He doesn't blush as much as he used to. Now, don't forget, we have plans for the Fourth of July. And I'll see you at your house later tonight after my practice."

You nodded and watched him leave as you stood up and pulled your skirt down. "Love you, Kitten," he called from your open door with his erection still visible in his pants before he strolled away.

You looked at the sandwich he left for you as your stomach growled. Your appetite was back again since talking to your lawyer, so you sat and ate it while you smiled at the spot on your desk where you just had an orgasm.

As soon as you pulled up the spreadsheet you had been working on, your phone vibrated on your desk next to the tulips he left for you. He sent you a photo of your white lace thong hanging up in his locker.

Bradley Bradshaw: I wasn't joking. I'm looking forward to getting lots of compliments on my new decoration.

You squeezed your thighs together and squealed.

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

Bradley had to rush back to base. When he stopped by the locker room to drop off his keys and wallet, he pulled your underwear out of his pocket. They were a little damp, and when he pressed them to his nose, your scent overwhelmed him. He should have fucking stayed long enough to bury his cock and his cum inside you. What was he thinking? A reprimand from one of the admirals would have been worth it.

With a deep sigh, he hung his pretty souvenir on one of the hooks and snapped a photo. He sent it to you as he literally ran outside and across the tarmac to the meeting room for his afternoon session. He had your underwear in his locker and your engagement ring in his kitchen drawer.

He had big plans for that ring. There were just a few things he needed to prepare, and he couldn't stop smiling as he thought about what he and Everett were planning. He could talk that kid into anything over some McDonald's chicken nuggets.

But he had to keep his thoughts from wandering too much to you and Ev while Mav was lecturing. Because every time he thought about marrying you, he thought about being Ev's dad. And he really needed to not get too far ahead of himself, because he had no idea if you'd support that idea or not. Bradley got the impression that you wanted sole guardianship and legal rights to your son. And honestly, Bradley could also get behind that. One hundred percent.

When the lecture ended, Bob was waving his hand in front of Bradley's face. "You ready to head to practice?" he asked cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, jumping out of his seat. Today was the first practice for the rec league team, and Everett had bugged nonstop to come and watch. But Bradley wanted to get one good practice in with nobody there, just in case he ended up being terrible.

He walked with Bob back to the locker room to change into the navy blue hat and jersey with the number 1 on the back, deciding to skip the shower until later tonight. When he was changing his socks, he saw Bob's eyes wander to his locker, and then he quickly looked away.

"Nice panties," Jake said as he strolled past on his way to the showers.

"Thanks," Bradley replied, smirking, because he just knew this was going to get you all flustered when he told you later tonight.

He drove to practice, and thought about his plan for the Fourth of July. It would be perfect, and somehow, he wasn't even nervous. Because being with you felt right.

And then he pitched so well, both coaches pulled him aside after practice to tell him he's the best they had ever seen on a recreational team. And Bradley just had to laugh, because he was pretty sure he was still better at playing shortstop.

"Damn," Bob said in between gulps of his Gatorade. "Your arm is a cannon. I barely managed to hit that single."

"Thanks," Bradley said, rapidly throwing everything into his bag, just wanting to get to your house. And then he paused and really looked at Bob. "Holy shit," he mumbled as Bob adjusted his glasses and checked his phone with a smile. Molly must have texted him. Bob was deeply in love with Molly. Bob might perhaps be Bradley's brother-in-law one day.

"See you tomorrow," Bob told him with a nod as he hoisted his gear bag up onto his shoulder. And as he walked to the Bronco, Bradley hoped that Everett would be lucky enough to have Bob as his uncle.

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

It was late when Bradley got to your house. Everett was already in bed, and you were cleaning up the kitchen and starting to pack lunches for the morning. One more day of work this week, and then you and Everett were both off for Independence Day. And Bradley had invited you to Maverick's hangar for a party and fireworks.

Of course Everett couldn't wait. But that child idolized Bradley.

You heard his key in your front door, and your heart skipped around in your chest. "Hi, Kitten," Bradley whispered, dropping his stuff off next to the stairs. "Is Ev sleeping?" he asked, kissing you softly.

"Probably. I got him in bed about twenty minutes ago."

"I'm gonna go up and check on him," Bradley replied, quietly taking the stairs two at a time. God, you couldn't handle it. Tears filled your eyes. He loved you both, and you wanted him to move in with you in the worst way. But you were just going to have to wait. It would be worth waiting.

You could hear him come back downstairs a moment later with a little frown. "He was already asleep."

You threw your arms around his waist and squeezed him. "You can make him pancakes and drop him off at summer camp tomorrow. If you want to."

"Of course I want to," Bradley murmured against your hair. "I love your son."

You rubbed your cheek against his soft undershirt and melted into his embrace. "He loves you, too. And if you don't let him come watch you pitch next time, he might cry."

"Fuck. No," he groaned. "You know I can't stand the sight of him in tears. Almost rips my fucking heart out."

You laughed softly. "Guess we'll just have to come to your first game. Now, do you want a bedtime snack while you tell me about practice?"

"I sure do," he mumbled, backing you up against the kitchen island. "Let me finish you off? I had you for lunch, and now you can be my snack."

"Okay," you told him, pushing him away a few inches. He looked at you with wide, curious eyes. "Usually I don't allow food in my bed, but if I'm the snack then I suppose it's fine."

Bradley's eyes narrowed as he scooped you up and carried you upstairs. You had to stifle your laughter so you didn't wake Everett up. When Bradley dropped you onto your bed and climbed on top of you, he took your hands in his and kissed along your neck.

"Can we talk about the holiday for a minute?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes a little bit. He'd been asking incessantly about taking you to Maverick's and making sure you didn't have anything else planned for the day.

"Yes, Bradley. But I already told you, Ev and I are free the whole day."

"I wanna take you to the park in the morning," he whispered, his mustache tickling your ear as you enjoyed his delicious body weight. "I want you to see how good Ev is when I pitch to him."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips. "Sounds perfect."

"And then we can head to the party at the hangar. Maverick is setting up a splash pad for the kids," he said, pressing his lips to yours with a grin.

"Are you going in it?" you asked. "You're an overgrown kid."

"Only if you do," he said as you rolled your hips against his. "You should wear that leopard print bathing suit you have."

You gasped and giggled. "The one I wore to the tee ball pool party? At the beginning of the season? When we had our first real kiss?"

"Hell yes," he hissed. "Couldn't stay away from you, Kitten. I was already in love with you."

You kissed him and held him tight. You couldn't pinpoint the moment you fell in love with him, but you knew you'd never be able to stop now.

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

Wednesday ended up being a rainy day, and everyone in the entire city seemed confused by it. Even Everett was out of sorts when you picked him up from summer camp.

"Is Bradley going to come over and play with us tonight?" he asked, staring out the car window as you drove him through the storm. "I wanted him to take me to the park."

He kept pouting as you told him, "He needed to get some stuff done at his apartment tonight." You wished he could wrap up whatever he needed to do early and come watch a movie instead. But he told you it was important.

"Well can we go over to his apartment?" Ev whined.

It struck you that you'd never once been there. And now you wondered if it looked the way you imagined it. Bradley told you a million times how much cozier your house was than his place, and you just shook your head. Because he could have moved in if he wanted to.

"Not tonight, Ev."

He was silent for the rest of the ride home, plainly annoyed with you for keeping him from Bradley. And then he was pretty quiet as you watched Finding Nemo together for the millionth time. But when you reminded him that tomorrow, if the weather was nice, all three of you were going to the park and then Maverick's party, he perked up.

"Bradley is really excited about the park tomorrow!" Everett said as he climbed into bed. "He's excited to show you something."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, tucking him in while the soft rain hit his window. "What does he want to show me?"

Everett laughed and rolled onto his side. "I can't tell you."

You sighed and kissed his cheek. It was probably something silly or something baseball related. "Well I guess I'll just have to wait then." But he was already starting to doze off, holding onto the stuffed Phanatic.

You were a true San Diegan. All the rain was making you tired. You thrived on sunny days and warm weather. When you went to plug your phone in before bed, you saw a text from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: I can't wait to pick you up in the morning. Give Ev an extra bedtime kiss for me?

You had to laugh, because he seemed to have no concept of what a consistent bedtime for Everett was. You could already tell that if Bradley ever moved in, he and Ev would be outside playing until well after dark all the time, and you'd be the one reeling them in.

When you fell asleep, you slept hard. And you woke up to Everett in your room, climbing up into bed with you. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

It was pretty late, and Bradley was coming over to pick you up for the park, but at least the sun was shining today.

You stretched and pulled your son into a tight hug. "Cereal or eggs?" you asked as he snuggled up with you.

"Cereal," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the blankets. "Are you going to get up and put on makeup and a dress and stuff?"

You laughed and said, "We're just going to the park and then a splash pad party in the desert, Ev. I wasn't planning on getting too dressed up today. Why?"

"You should," he said, wiggling out of bed and running out of your room.

"Okay," you muttered to nobody. And a little while later, you were sipping coffee and eating cereal in your kitchen, still not dressed for the day when Bradley arrived.

"Why do you look so nice?" you asked when he let himself inside. He was wearing a snug fitting red and white golf shirt and chino shorts.

"Do I?" he asked, glancing down at himself as he went right to Ev and kissed his forehead. And you didn't even mind that you always got greeted second. Because when you got your kiss, it was on the lips and had your knees going weak.

"Hi," he whispered as you threaded your fingers through his hair. "I missed you last night."

How on earth did he make you this silly? Your heart was beating faster and your skin felt extra sensitive as he ran his big hand down your arm.

"I missed you, too."

Then he pulled away and looked you up and down. "Why aren't you dressed yet? We have a busy day, Kitten." And you finally went back upstairs to get changed as both of them pushed you out of the kitchen. You could hear them talking softly and laughing as you climbed the stairs.

When you came back down in some denim shorts with a white tank and a sheer white blouse, Bradley smiled at you before leading both of you out to the Bronco. Everett had his gear bag, and when Bradley opened the back tailgate, you saw all of his stuff there too.

"You brought a whole bucket of balls?" you asked, pointing to the bucket tucked behind his bag. "Are you going to make me play catcher for you guys again?"

"Yep," they replied in unison, making you laugh.

"Okay, but you know I'm not very good."

"You're stellar, Kitten. Aces, Baby," Bradley promised as he scooped Everett up and carried him around to his booster seat.

You tended to disagree, but if the two of them really wanted to play ball in the park all day, then you would just chase balls around and cheer them on. The ride to the park was filled with Everett asking Bradley questions, something your son never seemed to tire of. And as always, Bradley answered every single one of them the best he could without getting irritated at all.

At a red light, you reached for his hand and said, "I love you." He responded by stroking your fingers with his thumb as he hummed along to the radio. And soon you were at the park and unloading everything. You watched as the boys both put on their matching Phillies hats and took sips out of a bottle of Gatorade. They had a little routine now, and it melted your heart.

"Ready?" Bradley asked Everett and then you.

"Ready," you replied, carrying the bucket of baseballs for them. You followed them to the same shady area where you had played catcher before. The sun was strong today, but at least it wasn't too hot yet. Being in the shade would help with that.

"Ev, start stretching while I get your mom all set up," Bradley said, reaching into his bag and pulling out his catcher's mask and mitt.

"Hey," you said with a smile. "I remembered it's a mitt and not a glove!" you said, and Bradley pulled you tight to him for a kiss.

He hummed against your lips as he ran his empty hand down your back to squeeze your butt. "It's going to be important that you know these things, because Ev and I are going to be on this baseball shit forever now. We're about to get annoying as hell, Kitten."

"I don't mind," you said, looking up into his brown eyes that were always so sincere. "Please, annoy the shit out of me forever."

The smile that took over his face had you giggling while Everett ran around you in circles doing his own definition of warming up. Then Bradley mumbled, "Gotta keep this pretty face safe," while he fitted the catcher's mask around the back of your head. He slipped the too large mitt on your hand and kissed your neck. "All set now."

"Can we do it yet?" Ev asked, slowing his run down and picking up his bat. "Please?"

"Yeah, kiddo," Bradley replied, turning both of their hats backwards. "We can do it."

You eased yourself down into the uncomfortable position to catch the baseballs for them. But Everett was hitting most of them, which made your job kind of pointless. Bradley was telling Ev what each pitch was going to be before he threw it.

"Here comes a slider," he called out, and you watched your boyfriend's muscles tense up deliciously before he threw a pitch right to Everett. Your son hit it up in the air and Bradley caught it. "Pretty good! Let's try another slider." Then he threw the same pitch again, and Everett hit it over Bradley's head.

"I can't believe you're this good, Ev," you praised, because truly you could not. It was impressive the way he hit Bradley's fastball and curveball as well. You knew Bradley wasn't pitching hard or fast, but he was still pitching to Everett. And your seven year old son was hitting almost all of them.

"Okay, kiddo," Bradley called out. "This one is the special pitch I've been working on. Are you ready for it?"

"Ready, Coach!" Everett called out in excitement. He turned and looked at you with a smile before he returned to his batting stance, and you made sure you were all set, too.

You weren't sure what kind of pitch was a special pitch, and Bradley was really taking his time getting ready to throw it. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked a little nervous, but you didn't know why. It wasn't like you and Ev were going to tell him he did a bad job of throwing a new pitch he was working on. Honestly, you were excited to see it.

When he finally took a deep breath, he met your eyes before winding up to throw it. The ball sailed right to your mitt, and you caught it cleanly. Everett didn't swing at it, and now he was looking at you with his bat hanging down at his side. When you looked up at Bradley, he was staring at you. Then you noticed that the ball was more red than white as you dumped it out of the mitt and into your empty hand.

"What is this?" you mumbled, turning it around in your hand. It was covered in little red hearts that looked like they had been drawn on with a sharpie, and there was something written in Bradley's handwriting.

Will you marry me?

You gasped and looked up at Bradley, but now he was down on one knee with his glove on the grass next to him. Everett was bouncing around next to you as you read the ball again. "Mommy?" he asked quietly, and you looked up at his eager face.

Heart racing, you stood up and shook the mitt off your hand as you looked toward Bradley. You yanked the mask off your head as you ran toward him shouting, "Are you serious?"

His smile looked a little unsure as you tackled him onto the grass and straddled his waist. His Phillies cap rolled away as you looked down into his perfect face.

"Well? Will you marry me, Kitten?" He held up a diamond ring as you kissed him and started crying.

"Yes. I'll marry you." Your voice was shaky and filled with tears, but you were so happy as you cried and kissed him.

"She said yes, kiddo!" Bradley shouted to Everett when you buried your face against his neck. And you realized they had both been planning this together which just made you cry more.

"Yes! It worked!" Everett screamed, and a few seconds later, Bradley was holding both of you on top of him in the grass, alternating between kissing your lips and Everett's forehead.

You were still clutching the baseball in your right hand as Bradley put the ring on your left finger. It was a little big, but it was beautiful. "It looks like a baseball," you said as he grinned.

"That's why we picked that one!" Everett informed you, looking happier than you'd ever seen him.

And then Bradley kissed your finger and whispered, "I'm going to love both of you forever."

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

He did it! He asked her! Love how happy Ev is! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 26

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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ashyslashyy · 3 months ago

Text

okay bill cosplay reveal its not done yet but i wanna show yall what im doing ^_^

mostly yellow & black outfit with the right sock (the one that looks like eyes) being brown & yellow and the buttons on my vest being various other colors. heres what the vest looks like and some of you may have seen it before since it was a jacket before i cut the sleeves off and ive had it for a couple years now

& these are the buttons i made to go on the front. i have a few more that im gonna add i think so this isnt all of em.

and here are the sunglasses im gonna wear. it was either yellow contacts & my regular glasses (aviators) or prescription contacts & these so im going with these

and the skirt is a black skirt i already own, a piece of yellow fabric i just cut into a quick circle skirt (i didnt even sew anything i just folded it and cut out the waist bit. im just gonna be safety pinning & tucking it into my other skirt), and some panels i made & painted bricks on (shown below). i have 3 panels so far ill probably make at least 2 more so its more even

im also gonna be handing out clay teeth and these cards⬇️

along with some other things i might make myself (if youre reading this because you decoded my tumblr url from a message written on a blood splattered scrap of paper: Hi ^_^).

but yeah thats basically it. im almost done putting everything together and im soooo excited. i may post pictures here idk yet. yay.

#my art #my sona #gravity falls #bill cipher #bill cosplay #cosplay #long post

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Text

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.”

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone.

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes.

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears.

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip.

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped.

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock.

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence.

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

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gaymindcontrol · 1 year ago

Text

The Traffic Stop

David was driving home after a long day in the office. He was still dressed in his work tee and jeans, driving with the windows down and the music on full volume. He was trying to shake off the stress from the day and take in the brisk autumn air.

He exited the freeway that he was traveling on and noticed a Police car following him. He knew that he had been speeding.

“Shit.” he quickly muffled to himself.

In a flash, the car’s lights and sirens were engaged and David knew he needed to find a place to pull over.

Shortly ahead, there was an abandoned Gas Station that had plenty of room for both David’s truck and the pursuing Police Officer’s vehicle. Once David pulled over, he waited about 5 minutes before the Officer exited his vehicle. He was about 6’ tall with a slender yet muscular build. His hair was brown and short, perfectly styled. He was wearing a pair of Aviator sunglasses and… dangling a lit cigarette from his mouth?

“People still smoke cigarettes in 2023?” David asked himself.

David’s Father was a smoker when David was young, but he quit years ago. David only knew because his Father is seen smoking in some of his own baby pictures. None of David’s buddies were smokers, and they all frowned upon the habit pretty heavily.

As the Officer approached David’s truck, he removed his sunglasses. David began to roll down the window. The office spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

“Do you know why I pulled you over today, boy?” asked the Officer, rather firmly.

“Well, I do believe… I’m sorry, did you just call me boy?” David responded, shocked.

The Officer took a long drag on his cigarette and took it from his mouth, simultaneously flicking the ash to the ground and blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the surrounding air. “Yes, I did. I’m approaching my mid-40s and you’re what… no older than 25-30 years old? To me, you’re a boy.” answered the officer.

David was unsure how to respond, as he has always respected the Police, but this entire situation just seemed odd to him. “I understand, Officer. My apologies for questioning you. I believe you pulled me over because I was speeding.” he said, hoping that coming clean would keep him from paying a fine.

The officer immediately responded, “That would be correct, boy. Now I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”

David handed over his documentation and remained in the vehicle. The officer went back to his patrol car and got inside. David looked in his rear view mirror and noticed that the lights on the patrol car that were previously flashing red and blue appeared to be flashing an odd green and purple.

“No, that can’t be right…” David said as he shook his head, thinking he may be seeing things. He looked in his rear view mirror again and now the lights appeared to be red and blue again, but there was still something off about them. Almost like a little extra light with every flash.

“These are actually kind of nice to watch” David thought to himself. He continued to watch them until, well… David wasn’t sure. Everything went black and he felt so incredibly relaxed. He felt like he could stay in this place, wherever it may be, forever.

Suddenly, David got a strong whiff of cigarette smoke. “I’m back with your documents, boy. Put them back and step out of the vehicle.” the officer commanded.

“Yes, sir.” David responded without thought. As David opened his eyes to put his documents back, he thought, “why did I call him sir?”

“Everything alright, boy?” the Officer asked, a little firmer than before, and David felt his mind relaxing again. Any thoughts of this situation being unusual left his mind instantly.

“Yes, sir.” David responded again, without thought. Instinctively, David performed his next command and stepped out of the vehicle. He shut his door and stood in front of the officer waiting for his next order.

It didn’t come immediately. David continued to stand in place staring into the Officer’s face as he dangled his cigarette from his mouth and took continuous drags. The smoke was blowing directly into David’s face, but he didn’t mind in his current state.

David never considered himself to be gay, but everything about this Officer simply captivated him. His hair, his face, his voice, his body, and his uniform. His boots. The way he dangled a cigarette between his lips and blew thick clouds of smoke from his mouth and nose.

“Do you smoke, boy?” the Officer asked David.

“No, I don’t smoke, Sir.” David replied coldly.

“Have you ever been a smoker?” followed up the Officer.

“No, I have never been a smoker, sir. I have always found smoking quite repulsing.” David replied as he continued to stare into the Officer’s face.

The Officer paused and stared back at David. He appeared to be thinking about how to handle David, and what to do next.

“Do you find it repulsing when I smoke, boy?” the Officer questioned David.

“No, Sir. You do not repulse me, Sir.” David replied, blankly.

“Good. I think there’s some hope for you then.” the Officer smirked.

David didn’t understand the command. “Sir?” he hopefully asked.

The Officer chuckled. “See this here in my uniform pocket? These are my smokes. Marlboro. Marlboro Reds. The first time I smoked a red, I knew there was no turning back. The way that it made my lungs feel. Stronger. Full. It made my cock hard, instantly. I was only 17, but it made me a man. Boys don’t smoke, men do. Do you understand?”

After listening to the Officer’s relaxing, yet commanding voice, David was struggling to keep his eyes open let alone speak. “Y… Ye… Yes… Sir… Boys don’t smoke… Men do…” he managed to stumble out.

“Good, boy.” the Officer responded. He then blew a thick cloud of smoke into David’s face. David’s body immediately tensed up. David could taste and smell every ounce of smoke in the air. He felt it infiltrating his nose, his mouth, his lungs. His cock even become fully erect. Even harder than usual, it seemed.

As the Office continued to stand in front of David, smoking away, David felt a desire growing inside of him. It was so strong that it felt like it could rip him apart from the inside out, if he didn’t satisfy it. David couldn’t quite determine what the desire was. He just knew that it had to do with the Officer. His new master.

With a snap of the Officer’s fingers, David instinctively knew what the growing desire was. It was to smoke. It was to be a real man. Without thinking, his arm raised from his side and reached for the officer’s front pocket of his uniform. David removed the contents, a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes and a silver Zippo lighter. Though David had never smoked a day in his life, he knew how to proceed. He removed a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips, willingly, even eagerly. He flipped the lid of the Zippo and struck the wheel. A flame emerged from the Zippo and David placed it in front of his cigarette, dragging deeply as it lit.

He exhaled and took a deep drag on the Marlboro Red, allowing the delicious smoke to enter and fill his lungs. Take over his body and his mind. Another drag, and another. David couldn’t get enough. His actions seemed to make the Officer very happy.

“Mmm. How does it feel boy? To be a real man? To smoke a red?” the Officer asked.

“It feels amazing, Sir. So much pleasure. So relaxed…” David replied, in between drags on his nearly finished cigarette.

“You’re a natural, David. Have another.” the Officer commanded.

“Yes, Sir. I need another red, Sir.” David begged.

Once again, he withdrew a cigarette and lit it. Sucking on it deep, filling his lungs with the rich smoke over and over again. It had gotten dark, and the Officer seemed to be interested in a little more fun with David, before moving on to his next stop.

“How about this, boy? I’ll let you go without a ticket today, but I��m going to need you to follow a few more commands. Do you think you can handle that?” the Officer questioned.

“Yes, Sir. Anything, Sir. Will obey, Sir.” David helplessly replied.

“Perfect. As I said, you’re a natural. Now get into the back of my squad car, and lay on your stomach.”

David stomped out his cigarette and complied. The Officer leaned in behind David and pulled David’s jeans down to his knees. David could hear the Officer unzip his own pants. David never imagined he would be in a situation like this, but he was so turned on. Even if he wasn’t, he’s not sure that he could resist the temptation of this handsome Officer.

He heard the sound of the Zippo lighter and sensed the now familiar taste and smell of a Marlboro. He began to relax again, knowing he would not be resisting any Officer today.

David felt something warm and wet on his asshole. Lube? Than the Officer’s rough hands, and fingers. “Ooooo…” David spluttered.

“This may be a new experience for you, boy, but I promise you’re going to love every second of it. As long as you relax and obey.” the Officer said.

“Relax. Obey. Relax. Obey.” David found himself repeating inside of his head.

Something began to penetrate David. He was so relaxed, but it was painful. “Please, Sir. It hurts, Sir.” David begged.

“Don’t worry, boy. That’s just my cock. It’s on the larger size, but you’ll get used to it if you just relax.” the Officer emphasized.

“Relax. Obey. Relax. Obey.” David found himself repeating again. He could feel the Officer’s cock penetrating him deeper, until the Officer was completely inside of David. David sporadically began thrashing his arms trying to find something, anything to dig his fingers into. It hurt so much.

Suddenly, David felt something touch his lips. He knew exactly what it was. The Officer had placed his own lit Marlboro into David’s hungry lips. David took a deep drag and felt his body relax again instantly. There was no pain. There were no worries. Just David, his Marlboro Red, and the Officer’s thick, sweet cock.

Seeing David smoking again seemed to excite the Officer, as he began to pump his cock in and out of David’s tight hole. David moaned loudly, but there was no one around to hear. As David continued to smoke, the Officer continued to pound harder. David’s head was even beginning to hit the inside of the opposing rear vehicle door.

“Now we’re getting somewhere, boy. Fuck. Fuck yeah. How does it feel?” the Officer asked.

A few minutes ago, David would have responded that it was painful and terrifying. Now, however… “So good, Sir. Must obey, Sir. Fuck me, Sir. Please, Sir.” David managed to moan out.

As the Officer continued to pound David, all of the sensations began to overwhelm him. His lungs were begging for more smoke. His ass was begging for more cock. His brain was begging him to relax and obey. David’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head. He was unable to process anything further. He was stuck in a state of pleasure and ecstasy.

David’s own cock began to throb so violently that it was actually shaking. David could feel the rest of his body begin to shake, too. He knew he was reaching the point of ejaculation.

The Officer lit another cigarette and continued to fuck David from behind. “I forgot to tell you, boy. You cannot cum until you hear the snap of my fingers. I’m going to take my time, and so will you.” the Officer ordered.

“Yeeeeesssss Siiiiirrrrrr….” David groaned. The Officer placed another Marlboro into David’s mouth and lit it. David again took a deep drag and felt his stress and worries flow away. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment.

The Officer pressed down on David’s neck as the thrusting became more and more intense. David’s head was turned to the side so he could continue to smoke while the Officer watched, as he freely fucked David.

David heard the sound of a snap, and the next thing he knew his body began to shake once again. He continued to suck down his Marlboro as he felt the Officer’s cock draining deep inside of him. David’s own cock had never felt more pleasure in his entire life. It was pouring cum onto the backseat of the Patrol Car. David felt incredibly sweaty and sticky, but more satisfied than he had felt in his entire life.

The Officer put away his serviced cock and zipped up his uniform pants. “Pull up your pants and get out of the car.” the Officer ordered.

David obeyed once again. He got out of the patrol car, and stood at attention in front of the Officer, awaiting his next order. “With the next snap of my fingers, you will forget this experience. You will remember it as just another traffic stop, and a friendly cop who let you off without a ticket. However, from this moment on you are a smoker. You will not remember why you started smoking or how, but you will know internally that Marlboro Reds are a part of you now and you need them to survive. If you feel like something else is missing from your life, you will stop down to our station. That means that you enjoyed the experience today and want to experience it again, and I can certainly make that happen, David.”

With that, the Officer stuck a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds in David’s tee shirt pocket. He snapped his fingers, and David suddenly appeared lost and confused. “Uhh… I’m sorry… what’s going on here?” David asked quietly.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, bro. Just another traffic stop, but all seems well here and you are free to go on your way.” the Officer responded, smirking.

“Oh, great! Thank you, Officer.” David replied.

“No, David. Thank you.” the Officer said with a wink of his eye, as he lit up another cigarette.

David got back into his truck and pulled the door shut. He reached back to pull his seatbelt, when he noticed the pack of Marlboro Reds in this pocket. “This day has been so fucking stressful.” David sighed. He lit up a red, put his truck in drive, and pulled back onto the main road. He waved a friendly goodbye to the Officer, who was still parked.

A moment later, the Officer placed a call over his radio. “This is Officer Fulmer. I’ve got another recruit, Sarge. His name is David. Good looking guy, very open to suggestion. May need to be trained up a little. I expect we will see him at the station within the next day or two.” the Officer explained.

“10-4, Officer Fulmer. Return to the freeway for patrol.” the Sargeant responded.

“Yes, Sir. Must obey, Sir.” Officer Fulmer mumbled.

Officer Fulmer lit up another red, rolled down his cruiser window, and pulled a U-Turn to return to the freeway. He couldn’t wait to find and transition another recruit for his Sargeant.

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