#the curl in his stache

[miniscove]

I have an itch only he could scratch just right. Ain’t that the way

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Paul Toombes

Madhouse (1974)

[starsforsight]

they’re so hot together it makes me angry 😭😭

[thebirdsareafterme]

THIS is the ideal male beauty standard, in case you were wondering.

[harrytheehottie]

he truly looks like a man like that’s a man he’s always had that boyish thing about him and still does but he is A MAN like truly . a man

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Curls | Bucktommy

In the bathroom, Buck is grimacing in the mirror, swiping his hands back and forth over his freshly cut hair. His eyebrows are furrowed with indecision; was this a good idea? He hears the front door open.

“Evan? Where are you?” Tommy voices rings out.

“Up here,” Buck calls back, he closes the bathroom door most of the way before Tommy gets up there.

“Oh there you are, what are you doing?” Tommy tries to push open the door but Buck stops him.

“I got a haircut from the place Hen suggested. You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?” Buck’s voice is hesitant.

“I promise I won’t laugh, did they botch it?” Tommy replies with total sincerity. This time Tommy can open the door and step into the bathroom. He examines Buck’s hair, very relieved it actually isn’t botched or a buzzcut.

Tommy takes it in and can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips. His boyfriend looks damn fine; curls in full force and not reigned in like how Buck usually styles it. The hairdresser added a fade making his neck look a lot longer.

“What? It’s awful. Your silence is making me nervous,” Buck rambles out.

Reaching a hand up, Tommy carefully pinches a wild curl and is surprised how soft it is, not at all crunchy with gel. His hand slides down to touch the equally soft hair on the back of his head. He absolutely loves it. “It’s definitely not awful. I always love your curls, babe. I like seeing your natural hair be free for once, and it’s so soft too. You look really really hot actually. It’s trendy for sure, but not in a bad way.”

Buck is still frowning at the mirror and rubs his fingers on the side of his face. “She even shaved off my sideburns,” he pouts and Tommy laughs.

“They will grow back in no time.” He wraps his arms around Buck’s waist and rests his chin on Buck's shoulder, watching him still fuss with his hair. “You know, it does make you look undeniably not straight, if that’s what you were going for.”

”Not really my intention, but I mean I’m not, so I guess it works?” Buck huffs drops his hands. “I’m itching for my gel, I feel so naked without it.”

“Don’t you dare. It’s just new, it’ll grow on you.” Tommy smiles, catching Buck's eyes in the mirror.

“Hey, what about your natural curls, huh? I don't see you easing up on the hair products.” Buck turns his head to look at Tommy.

“Shhh we're not talking about me right now,” Tommy replies and slides a hand up to cup Buck's jaw and kiss his lips. “I'm sure there's something in the pilot handbook about hair regulations,” he mumbles against Buck's mouth then promptly leaves him in the bathroom.

When Buck walks into work the next day he’s greeted with a wolf whistle from Hen, “Damn, Buck! I knew my girl would make you look fresh! You’re looking damn fine.” And he can’t help but smile at the praise. He gets compliments and light teasing from the rest of the crew. Maybe he can live with it.

One of their calls is at the famous gay night club, The Abbey, in Santa Monica. One of the cages that the dancers was in fell with the dancer trapped inside of it. Buck and Eddie had to break out the saw to get the dancer out, luckily he walked away with minor injuries.

They attracted a small crowd of the other dancers- all in skimpy speedo like underwear. Most of them had their eyes on Buck, giving him flirty compliments and asking if he’s ever been there. At first Buck was confused why he was getting most of the attention from these objectively hot men, especially when Eddie and his stache was right there.

Oh right, the hair, he thinks. The ‘undeniably not straight’ hair style he is sporting right now. He couldn’t help feeling a small blush creep into his cheeks.

His attention gets pulled back to one of the dancers, “Are you single? I know it’s really forward of me, but I thought I’d shoot my shot.” At least he’s polite about blatantly hitting on him.

“Oh wow I’m really flattered but yeah, I am taken,” Buck says proudly. He takes out his phone and shows the dancer and his friends his phone lock screen - a selfie of him and Tommy from one of their recent dates. Buck is laughing and Tommy is smirking at the camera with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Oh my God! I know that guy! That’s Mr. August from the 2019 LAFD calendar! I’ll never forget that year,” one of the dancers muses.

“Lucky bastard,” another one says to Buck, which makes his smile grow wider.

Tommy’s phone pings with a picture from Chimney, which there is no doubt this was his idea. It’s of Buck in the middle of a row of speedo clad club dancers. He doesn’t have his jacket on, so it’s just the fire T-shirt with red and yellow suspenders and the turn out pants. He’s holding an ax resting on his shoulder with the cockiest look he could muster; a sexy smirk on his lips with his left eyebrow cocked. The dancers around him are all looking at him, hamming it up for the picture acting like he’s the hottest thing on earth. Tommy couldn’t agree more and immediately makes it his phone background.

Yeah, the hair is growing on Buck.

[giuseppe-yuki]

pranks

carlos sainz x meerkat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: a few curse words?

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: a prank kind of backfires on you and carlos

picture credits from pinterest :)

honestly, you thought your favorite mode of transportation must be riding on carlos’ broad shoulders. with such a tall vantage point, you could see farther ahead compared to if you walking on the ground. plus, you wouldn’t be trampled on by over-eager fans, you didn’t have to tire your legs out, and you’d be able to catch a whiff of the familiar smell of carlos’ cologne. 

you adjust your grip on carlos’ racing red ferrari kit, digging your paws into the soft material and curling your body around his neck. the paddock in suzuka was real pretty, with cherry blossoms framing the walkway.

carlos continues walking into the paddock, occasionally stopping to sign hats and merch. a few little fans asked to pet you too, and you gladly scurried down carlos’ arm to let them stroke your fur with sticky fingers that kids always seem to have. a child completely covered in george merch even stopped to hand-feed you a piece of fruit. 

when he arrives in his motorhome, he gently sets you down on the sofa. he collapses next to you, body sprawled on the couch. “ugh, that was exhausting.” he says exasperatedly. “there is still-” he checks his watch. “two hours until fp3?? i swear to god, my manager must have messed up the schedule.” 

he leans back into the couch, and then fishes a peanut out of the pocket of his jeans. your boyfriend always seemed to have a stache of your favorite meerkat-friendly snacks in his pocket. not that you minded- you were always down for a little snack now and then.

he flings the peanut at you, and you manage to avoid the flying nut by a centimeter. you whip your head back at him, glaring at him the most vicious way possible. 

his mouth is open, hand still frozen in the throwing position. “omg! i swear to god i did not mean to throw it that hard, mi amor.” he scoops you up and pats your tiny head. reaching into his pocket again, he takes out another peanut and hands it to you gingerly. 

you accept the peanut and crack it open, but continue to glare at him. while you munch on the peanut, carlos looks down at you with a glimmer of mischievousness in his big brown eyes. you knew that look- he only did that when he had a particularly funny prank that he wanted to pull (the last time he had that look in his eyes was when he came up with the idea to put 100 miniature rubber snakes around charles’ drivers room). 

“i’ve just had the funniest idea,” he exclaims. “since we have so much time on our hands, we should go to mclaren to annoy lando!” 

ever since being associated with carlos, you have been dragged into so many of his pranks around the paddock that a glance at your meerkat form has people wondering if carlos was planning another mischievous trick. it was the polar opposite of your normal human form. i mean, who would suspect carlos’ nice reserved girlfriend to also be his havoc-causing meerkat sidekick?

the mclaren employees shoot you both suspicious glances as carlos strolls through the mclaren motorhome. he creeps around corners and listens through every door. you hold on to his team kit with your sharp paws for dear life- you surely would have slid off already if you hadn’t. it’s only when he comes across a sitting area with two familiar figures that he stops. 

“you’re not very adventurous with food, are you?” you hear oscar say, holding what seems to be a red-bean mochi in between his fingertips. 

“well, i don’t wanna be,” lando shoots back, pushing the japanese snack away from him.

carlos creeps behind lando, and hands you several peanuts that he fished from his pockets. taking advantage of lando and oscar’s bickering, he lets you slide off of his shoulders. you bolt full speed towards lando and start throwing the peanuts at his head while screeching. 

he yelps, jumps out of his chair, and scurries behind a nearby table to hide. oscar, spotting your tiny figure compared to lando’s cowering body next to the table, starts cackling. 

a full hour hadn’t even passed for carlos to get that look in his eyes again. this time, you were busy piecing together a 2000 piece puzzle of ayrton senna in the mostly empty dining hall when you see him approach you.

“what now,” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

a wide grin splits your boyfriend’s face. “let’s go steal charles’ helmet!” he whispers, just in case charles or any of his team members are nearby. 

poor charles was almost always on the receiving end of carlos’ pranks (although you did hear about pierre somehow obtaining a snake and sneaking into charles’ room with it). you swear that it is going to backfire one day. 

nevertheless, you agree, leaving half of senna’s face and his car’s front wing done on the table. 

it was a really quick process, as you shifted, scurried past the mechanics and lifted charles’ signature red helmet off of the counter in one swoop. no one batted an eye as you pushed the helmet out of the garage and into carlos’ arms. 

“yess! good job, baby!” he cheers, once the helmet is in his hand. “now where to hide it?”

he looks around, before finally walking into the gap in between the aston martin and ferrari motorhomes. you scurry after him, paws hitting the ground at full speed. at the end is a little secluded space, surrounded on all four sides by walls or other teams’ motorhomes. he snickers, and sets charles’ helmet on the ground. pulling out his phone, he snaps a picture, ready to send to charles as a taunt. 

you proceed to turn, brushing strands of meerkat fur off of your flowy shortskirt. “not even a thank you, carlos?” you say, tilting your head. “i risked my life out there stealing his helmet!” 

before he can answer, you hear the clonk of a waterbottle dropping near the ferrari motorhome. standing there, mouth open in shock, stands charles leclerc, the owner of the helmet that you stole. “did you just-” he starts.

carlos, realizing your secret might get out through charles, marches through the gap, snatches the familiar white celcius water bottle from the ground, and yanks charles into the secluded space. 

you stand very still next to the helmet, not knowing if you wanted to bolt and hide in a hole so you’d never be seen again, or to slap carlos for exposing your secret, to his teammate, no less. you knew that carlos’ tricks would backfire one day.

“mate, please, please, please do not tell anyone about this!” carlos says, clutching charles’ shirt. 

once the initial shock has worn off, charles shocked expression turns into a smirk. “of course i’ll tell people about this! you literally stole my helmet and you expect me not to expose you for taking my things? besides, it’s a payback for pranking me so much! i still find those stupid rubber snakes that you hid in my room everywhere. i always have to call my girlfriend to help me get rid of them.” 

you step up next to carlos and charles, a confused expression on your face. “wait. so you didn’t see me turn?”

a look of understanding flashes across charles’ face. “ohhh!!” he remarks. “you mean the meerkat thing?”

“yes!” you and carlos both say simultaneously. 

“don’t worry, i won’t tell!” charles says, to both of your guy’s relief. “don’t you know, my girlfriend can shift into a hedgehog? no offense, i think that’s way cooler than a meerkat,” he states with a smug smile on his face.

“oi, pendejo!” carlos says, narrowing his eyes. “how dare you say that!”

you laugh, putting an hand on carlos’ shoulder. “it’s okay baby, i’m just glad this didn’t turn out into a bad situation!” 

charles shoots you an appreciative grin, knowing you saved him from potential physical altercation with carlos. it quickly dissipates, however, when he sees his helmet behind your legs.

“right, back to the helmet, how dare you steal it! fred would’ve killed me if i showed up to fp3 without it!” 

understanding the power charles has now knowing your secret, carlos apologizes. “we are sorry, charles. i promise i won’t ever steal any of your things again!” 

charles continues to stand there, waiting for him to continue.

“-and i won’t play any more pranks on you, i swear!” he says quickly. 

charles nods once, satisfied with carlos’ promise.

from side facing the motorhomes, fernando sticks his head into the gap separating the two teams. spotting you three standing there, he jokes, “you guys having a party in there, or what?” 

t-minus 20 minutes until fp3, charles sets his water bottle on the counter and pulls on his balaclava. across the motorhome, carlos is doing this same. when charles finishes adjusting the material over his head and nose, he suddenly sees a flash of fur on the counter. it’s you, bolting away like your life is on the line with his water bottle in hand. 

“CARLOS!” you hear him shout.

from your hiding spot in one of the engineer’s headphone cubbies, you see carlos scramble over to charles. 

“what? is everything alright?” carlos says, concerned. 

“your girlfriend just stole my waterbottle!” he whispers heatedly, pointing at you sitting innocently in the cubby like everything was normal, except for the fact that a white racing waterbottle, complete with a long straw and a “charles leclerc” sticker is sitting next to you. carlos laughs, “i mean- i did only promise that i won’t steal anything or pull any pranks on you; i didn't promise my girlfriend wouldn't!”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[emily-escott]

Jedi Master Thame Cerulian

I’ve been meaning to sit down and come up with a design for this guy for a while, and after starting and stopping a few times, we’re finally here. The other day I saw @revanisadumbass mention they headcanon Thame as being Jocasta’s master and that gave me the strength I needed to get back to this bc I’m sick of waiting for canon to catch up with my special interests and I’ve been headcanoning that for years lol.

Even though he started out as this mysterious guy we hear about but never meet in Jude Watson’s book, he ends up being kind of a dork in the Path of the Jedi tbh. I think he’s a perfect foil for Jocasta. Thame is a valuable resource— he’s a wealth of knowledge, he’s a highly accomplished historian, he’s a well respected scholar… but he’s also a little goofy. I think Jo having to dig through a bunch of dad jokes and puns to get to the information she needs would be very frustrating for her, and she may or may not end up learning to be more patient with him lol.

I ended up l o o s e l y basing his design off of Omar Sharif. He’s outgoing and confident, so I’m drawing him with sort of snazzy hair and fancy stache. But he’s also somewhat absentminded, so he’s got a curl out of place and 5 o’clock shadow. And for some reason, Corellian Jedi wear green robes, so that’s cool. He’s basically wearing what Corran Horn wears �� anyway, that’s where this guy came from! I’ve tried really hard to get to know Thame better while drawing him over the past couple days, and I think I like him? He seems kind of fun and silly? I have to get going on Lene Kostana now 😵‍💫

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is��a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[jessieren]

Uugh 💀

The escaping curls lol…

Possibly the best description of Shaun ever…

Just the puff of a spring breeze to ruffle your hair...

I love this pic--the crinkled eyes, the slight smile, the soft-stache, and the escaping curls.

Photo ©endeavourneverland 2018

[sidsthekid]

look at his lil curls and lil stache

[gothcsz]

i'm horny and thinking about how good javier peña would be at eating your pussy 😵‍💫

so real prima, so real.... with a stache and nose like that, he has no choice but to be good at it i fear.

and maybe i'm biased because i really enjoy it, but i feel like he's specifically skilled when it comes to face riding omg.... wait let me cook!

His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth and using his strength to keep you there.

Your own mouth opens in a silent scream as his tongue sinfully laps at every crevice of your warm sex, saturated in your arousal from taking him reverse cowgirl style.

Both of you were treading that very fine line of your orgasms. His cock driving into you so deliciously from the different angle melting your brain, and the view of your folds swallowing him inside of your pretty pussy enough to have him starved and craving you.

“Gotta taste you baby. My mouth's fuckin' watering over here.”

And that's how you got here, now bending over a little more, your warm breath fanning over his slick erection, from being inside of you, while your head rests gently on his broad thigh, whiny moans pushing past your lips.

He eats you out like you're the sweetest fruit he's ever tasted. The prickly hairs of his mustache a delightful juxtaposition to the wetness of his mouth.

His swollen lips wrap around your clit, suckling it softly as he pulls back with it still in his mouth, letting the fleshy part snap back with an obscene sound. He groans, repeating the action over and over before lightly grazing his teeth against your sensitive pearl.

A jolt runs up your spine and you grind down against his face, his curved nose doing wonders gliding along your slit.

“Mmm that’s right baby keep movin’ like that.” His large hand caresses the skin of your ass, groping and enjoying how pliable you are.

You do as he says, sensually moving your hips at a rhythm that makes you sing his name.

He listens, always attuned to you and what makes you moan so sweetly. His tongue is flat at first, letting your sensitive cunt glide against his wet and slightly textured muscle. 

He’s eating your pussy so good, you just have to lean over and lick from his plush tip all the way down to his balls, sucking one gently into your mouth. This has him tightening his grip on your thighs and hips. You fucking love it.

After leaving his scrotum wet and glistening with your saliva, you bring your lips to wrap around the head of his cock before slowly taking him into your mouth.

He mutters a few curse words and you go lower until he’s brushing against the entrance of your throat.

The tip of his tongue curls upwards, hitting the sensitive spot under the fleshy hood perfectly and it has you muffling a gasp against his hard cock, choking around him.

“Fuck, cariño, don’t know which I like more— this pretty cunt or that fuckin’ mouth.” 

You whimper, going from grinding on him to lightly bouncing your ass, his mouth making out with your cunt with the same fiery passion with which he kisses you.

You swear you can cum just from smoochin’ him.

It isn’t much after that you two finish, you squeeze your thighs tightly against his head and clench around nothing; your orgasm absolutely re-wiring your brain. Javier’s just that good. And he fucking knows it.

You soak his face with your release and he grunts loudly, lapping up every. drop. then sucking on your clit before placing soft and gentle kisses to it. He can feel your sex pulsating against his lips.

His warm and heady cum fills your mouth and you swallow like a good girl, the action clenching your throat around his dick and he smacks your ass lightly in response.

“Tan rica (so tasty), hermosa. Taste like fuckin’ candy.” 

[the-californicationist]

Scenario for the gif game 😊

okay, this was a challenge! it took me a while to think of a scenario, but here's what i came up with. i hope it's okay! thanks so much for the ask, my friend!! <3

TW: ghoap written by someone who doesnt write ghoap (sorry, im trying to get better!), references to anal sex, masturbation, smoking

Menthols

Simon had been out on a mission for nearly two weeks, and Johnny was stuck in their apartment, losing his mind. He’d binged three Netflix series, all absolute shite, and finished the novel he’d been putting off for months. The house was spotlessly clean, and his hands had angry calluses from how often he had used the gym to blow off some steam. 

Nights were the worst. Johnny would lay, spread-eagle, legs wide with his ass in the air, and his mind would wander. He could almost smell Simon’s body as his scent lingered on his pillow, and he crushed it to his nose, trying his damnedest to get to his scent. 

Johnny’s cock twitched, thinking about all of the nights he’d laid here like this, prone, keening like a whore underneath Simon’s heavy thrusts. Shameless and desperate, he allowed his hips to rock into the mattress, his prick humping lewdly across their sheets, feeling the way his foreskin threatened to slip over his swelling cockhead with each vicious, teasing movement. He squeezed his thighs tight, hips popping forward, showing himself little mercy, the pillow still crammed into his face, muffling his broken whimpers. 

Each rushing thrust was like crackling, sparking torture. He was so close, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He could use his hand, or…

Johnny paused his efforts, digging around in Simon’s nightstand, finding his stache. The little white box of menthol cigarettes seemed to taunt him, laughing at his pitiful need. Then, like some sort of fiend, Johnny held the half-used pack to his nose and let his hips grind into the bed once more. 

With his nose buried in the pack of menthols, the minty smell of stale tobacco filled his mind with memories. Like Pavlov’s faithful dog, he was flung backwards in time to all of the nights, after Simon had made a mess of his holes, stretching him cruelly, making his muscles ache with his girth, he would light a cigarette and come down from their high together, letting the smoke billow and curl through the open window. Meanwhile, he’d play inside of his sated sergeant, flexing his thick fingers into Johnny’s well-used hole, smearing his own come along his walls, making wet little circles with his fingertip. 

As Johnny inhaled again, he began to come. His hands hadn’t even made it to his shaft, and he was spilling his seed like a teenager, rattling through a fierce orgasm just at the memory of Simon’s affection. The mint and the harsh nicotine spurred him on like a bull as he bucked into the wet sheets, and he could feel his own spend swiping across his belly, dampening his hair and ruining the middle of the bed. 

He rolled over, panting, and suddenly brightly aware of what he’d done, more than a bit embarrassed. Johnny felt like he was his own voyeur, judging himself for being so thirsty for his partner that he’d sniffed a pack of old cigarettes like a damn bloodhound. 

“Fuck me…” He lamented, stripping the sheets and avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. 

After he remade the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress and looked into the pack of smokes once more, studying them as they stood up in the pack, all in a jumbled group. Just as he was about to toss them back in the drawer, he heard the keys jangle in the old lock of their front door, getting stuck in the strike like they always did. 

He jumped up, thankful that he’d at least thrown on a pair of joggers after he’d cleaned his mess, and rushed to meet Simon coming through the door. 

“Si! You’re back,” Johnny smiled, going in for a hug. 

Still in his mask, the helmet of his motorcycle in his fist, Simon stopped him. 

“What’re those?”

The enormous Brit’s brown eyes peered down at Johnny’s hand. He was still clutching the menthols.

“What? Och, your smokes. I was just —”

“Are you pickin’ up my habit, love?” Simon’s voice was dark, and it made Johnny’s hair stand on end. He’d heard that voice in the field, but never in their peaceful home.

“Well, no. But I –”

Before Johnny could answer him, Simon’s gaze twisted into a fearsome rage, snatching the pack from his hands and launching it through the den. It fell with a soft slap against the wood floor, lost somewhere behind the couch.

“Don’t you dare start,” Simon crossed the space between them, clutching his lover by the nape of his neck, towering over him, pulling up the bottom half of his mask, “Don’t… I don’t want to lose the way you taste.”

Johnny was stunned by his aggression, and he tumbled into a sort of pliant submission as Simon claimed his mouth, pressing his warm, pink tongue through his lips and down his throat, forcing his jaw to open to take more and more of his kiss. 

It was everything Johnny needed. The minty flavor mixed with Simon’s own unique, human musk went straight to his core. Johnny’s cock seemed to have forgotten its recent release, and it was preparing for round two, eager to be plunged into whatever part of Simon he’d be given, hungry for that sacred gift. 

Simon pulled away, ripping his mask all the way off, throwing it down on the floor with his other gear, staring at Johnny in disbelief,

“You didn’t smoke?”

“No, you mad bastard,” Johnny smiled, shaking his head, “I just… I needed you, and… uh…”

Simon’s lips curled into a sultry grin, pressing his body against him, tugging playfully at the handful of mohawk he was still grabbing,

“Johnny… were you havin’ a wank with those?”

Johnny felt the flush rise into his cheeks, staining them red. Worse still, his cock jerked in his pants, too obvious to hide, eager at the thought of living out his fantasy in real life. He didn’t answer him. He couldn’t think of the words. His mind and his body were slipping out of his control.

Simon chuckled in a deep, warm rumble, his hands digging into Johnny’s elastic waistband, sliding over his dripping rod. He pumped him once, twice, watching as his sergeant’s eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure, so sensitive from his recent release. 

“You needy little slag. Come show me how much you missed me.”

[igetthedisneybox]

How did you decide which concept character was who's kid in your Encanto au?

Miranda: Miranda was automatically one of Bruno's once I decided to pair him up with Alejandra. The two women look far too similar to not be related.

Amelia and Sofía: I read a fic where the twins were Bruno's daughters, and really liked the idea. Plus, they look similar enough to Alejandra, but with Bruno's skin tone, I think it's believable they could be their spawn.

Princesa: I knew for sure I wanted Isabela to have a new "golden child" burdened by their gift, and Princesa fit that role nicely. I was also having trouble fitting her due to her random blonde hair, and since Isa adopts her kids, genetics didn't really matter.

Fuega: Fuega's whole thing seemed to be her annoyance at her "perfect" sister, so I made her Isabela's daughter -Princesa's sister- to reflect that.

Mariana: I saw someone use her, and just wanted to lol. Needed a third kid for Isabela, figured she'd work just fine.

Leta: Since she was supposed to be Pepa's twin, I figured making her her granddaughter was a good way to connect the two, and explain the physical similarites. She also matches Dolores and Mariano physically fairly well.

Andrés: Needed more boys, so I dug around in the Bruno concepts. This guy looked suprisingly like Dolores, with the darker skin and the curls, so I picked him.

Carlos: Had to use the famous Carlos. Since Camilo doesn't have bio kids, I gave him to Dolores to explain why he looks so much like Camilo. And looking at him, he actually resembles Mariano a lot lol.

Avila and Amada: When I raised Dolores and Mariano's kid count to five, I needed two more, and so I picked the two older twins from the girl cousins page. They have Dolores's ears and Pepa's smile, how could I not?

Tomás and Rómulo: Knew I wanted to use these guys from the begining (thanks for the idea!) but placing twins was hard, since I was acting under a strict 'three kid' rule for myself. I gave them to Luisa, since a) she was adopting so I didn't have to worry about genetics, and b) I rationalized that she would have kids the youngest kids, and be the last to have them, because she needed to work on her self care, and having kids is just about the opposite of that.

Zoe: Same reasons as the twins pretty much.

Hugo: Also an idea from you! He was originally Mirabel and Bubo's (because of his rockin hair and 'stache combo) but Óscar ended up being a better pick for those two. Thought it'd be nice to give the loud Camilo a quiet kid for a nice challenge.

José: He needs no introduction. It's obvious, even if he's adopted, that he's Camilo's kid.

Héctor: Since both Bruno and Isabela ended up with all girls, I wanted at least one of 'em to have all boys to even things out a bit. So I found a concept of Antonio I liked, and used him as Camilo's third.

Óscar: He was originally Bruno's, but when I added Bubo in, I realized how similar they looked, with the hair and the nose, and liked the idea of Mirabel having a kid with an "odd" gift.

Beatriz: She's a beta Mirabel. They look too similar to be anything else imo

Lidia: I just loved this early Luisa concept so freaking much. Thought she looked emough like Mirabel to be hers, and also gave her Bubo's stature (they both shorties lol)

[starrynet]

evidence for hair magic in the nhl:

playoff beards

pens losing after tanger’s haircut

pens winning after the reintroduction of the sid stache

sharks’ losing streak after will smith hockey tragically ditched his curls

sharks winning again after wsh styled his shorter hair with curls again

[bihanspookies]

Just a little soft hehehaha moment with Kung Lao that blasted into my brain suddenly

8:14 p.m

“Look it’s a mustache.”

“Your mustache is a little lopsided, sweetheart.”

You swipe across your top lip with two fingers to fix your bubble-stache, shaking your hand towards Kung Lao to clean the soap off.

“Better?”

Kung Lao gives a pained grimace, shaking his head leaning forward towards you to help fix it. His legs push more against yours, hands emerging from below and cascading water. Some of it spills over the edge of the tub, soaking into the bath mat.

“Kung Lao—!”

“Shh, the master is working right now.”

He scoops bubbles from the surface of the water in one palm and uses his other to spread them over your face. The thick foam tickles your skin as the tiny pockets pop, small sections dripping off and merging back into the water.

“I think you’re giving me a full beard with how long this is taking.”

Kung Lao only hums in response, face scrunched in concentration as he slathers more and more bubbles over your face.

With a satisfied smirk he leans back, dipping his hands in the water to clean them off.

“Done! I must say, maybe I’ll take up sculpting as a side hobby with how well of a job I did.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes, standing up to take a glance in the mirror.

It unfortunately was a pretty good mustache, Kung Lao somehow being able to shape the bubbles to create curls against your cheeks at the ends of it.

You sink back down into the water, giving him a nonchalant shrug and lean against the back of the tub.

“It’s alright.”

He scoffs, gently splashing water towards you. You raise your eyebrow and do it back, immediately followed by another small splash. He blocks his face with his hands, a slow smirk crossing his lips as he readies to wet you again. You realize your mistake, putting up a cautious hand to stop him.

“Before you do that think about the mess on the floor—!” You try to quickly say but are cut off with a wave, water catching in your mouth and erasing Kung Lao’s ‘masterpiece’. You spit the water out in a stream towards him, his grossed out face making you burst out in laughter.

“That is disgusting!”

“You started it??”

“I did not spit bath water at you??”

You splashed at each other a few more times, half the water ending up on your bathroom floor and absolutely soaking the bath mat. When you two finally decided to call it quits, you both look over the side and glance at the giant puddle reflecting your soaking faces.

“Told you not to splash.”