#baby price pics >>>>>>>>>>>>

[gomzdrawfr]

Recruitment | based on this thingy I wrote awhile ago

Recruitment Bribery?

[thelaststarfalling]

kitten acquisition is likely actually happening this weekend

i think i am going to get one orange male and one calico female

now i have to pick names (which i am being indecisive about lol) and schedule spay/neuter and other basic vet things which is unexpectedly stressful hnnnng

[emotargaryen]

new babies 😁

[baduzzxy]

rotting inside my brain is dad!Price with his lil wifey and their absolutely chonky baby girl ARGHHHHH

that 5-7month old stage where the baby is just straight up a milk fiend, ESPECIALLY if they were breastfed? 😭😭😭 anything that comes near their mouth they just LATCH onto it, and your little princess is just a spoiled milk mammoth.

Poor John just wanted some time with his baby, wanted to hear her coos and gurgles. The moment he raises his baby girl and touches her nose with his nose, she just gobbles. Almost knocking her head into Price’s forehead in an attempt to latch onto his nose😭

and the yelp of surprise that comes out of John’s mouth worries you to the point where you rush into the room their in, and when you found out what happened you just let out the loudest holler you can muster, tummy hurting from laughing and all.

John has this pout on his face that matches his daughter. You took a pic and sent it to his mates for a good laugh.

[evilhorses]

Canon hunter height difference

[cameronsbabydoll]

hihihi ♡ !

could u do a little drabble or blurb about what military!rafe would do or how he would react when one of his soldiers/cadets (my dumbass forgot what they're called so i hope im right 💔) find/see a pic of reader and they make some not so family friendly comments about her and military!rafe overhears them ? your work is so amahzing btw 🙇🏾‍♀️

(p.s. can i be 🍪 anon? ty ౨ৎ ! )

military!rafe getting mad at his soldiers for talking about you

it was a dumb move.

a rookie mistake, really.

he’d left his wallet out on the table in the corner of the barracks during a debrief — too tired to care, too distracted by your last text, the one where you said the baby smiled for the first time today, only for him. there was a picture attached. one of you in his t-shirt, holding the baby, smiling sleepy in the kitchen light.

he made it his home screen. couldn’t help it.

he should’ve locked it.

should’ve kept that piece of you tucked safe like he always did — private, like it was something holy.

but they saw it.

one of the younger ones. still new. still dumb. still flapping his gums to impress the others, saying something about your tits in that shirt, how he wouldn't mind taking a turn if "captain cameron ever got tired."

and rafe heard every word.

you could feel the silence shift the second he stood up. heavy. sharp. the kind of quiet that came before a storm — before thunder cracked and the air split and someone paid the price.

he didn’t yell. didn’t need to.

just walked up slow, boots steady, jaw clenched.

"you talkin’ about my wife, kid?"

and the kid—he froze. eyes wide, mouth dry.

"i—sir—"

"nah," rafe cut in, voice low and even. “say it again. just so i know i heard you right.”

no one said a word. no one moved.

then rafe leaned in, close enough to smell fear and sweat.

"you ever so much as breathe wrong in her direction again, i’ll make sure you’re scrubbing latrines from now 'til you retire. understood?"

“yes sir.”

“good. now get the hell outta my sight.”

the kid scrambled. and rafe—still simmering, still fuming with it—reached for his phone like it was a lifeline, thumbing over the picture again.

you. his. only his.

and no one got to talk about you like that. not on his watch. not ever.

he texted you right after.

"you up? missin’ you bad. need to hear your voice."

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

I love your work and was hoping to send in a request! What if fem!reader is out with her girlfriends drinking and either calls their cod boy drunk asking to be picked up or comes homes to them all drunk and flirty.

Come Get Your Girl

Pairing: Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, drunken behavior, swearing, suggestive teasing, protective 141, cuddling, fluffy domesticity, implied sexual tension, emotional vulnerability, mention of nudity (non-explicit), soft smut vibes

Author's Note: Thanks for inspiring something so warm and fun to write!

Summary: You go out drinking with your girlfriends and end up needing a pickup from your boys. What follows is chaotic affection, sleepy cuddles, and a very revealing morning after.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The house was unusually quiet.

Johnny had just finished beating Kyle at Mario Kart for the third time, tossing his controller on the couch with a smug grin while Kyle swore under his breath, blaming a "dodgy drift." Price sat in the armchair, sleeves rolled to his forearms, quietly nursing a whiskey. And Simon—well, Simon leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, skull hoodie up, watching the others bicker with something close to a smirk.

You weren’t there.

And yeah, they’d all said it was fine. “Go have a girls’ night, love. You’ve earned it.” “We’ll be here when you get back.”

But now, three hours in, the absence of your laughter was echoing louder than the game’s menu music.

“She text you?” Price asked, raising his brow at Johnny.

Johnny unlocked his phone immediately. “Uh… sent me a pic of her drink an hour ago. Looks like radioactive juice.”

Simon grunted. “If she ends up dancing on a table again, I’m not dragging her off it this time.”

“You say that every time,” Kyle shot back. “Then you carry her out like a fuckin’ knight in a hoodie.”

Price chuckled quietly, but his gaze drifted toward the front door, jaw working slowly.

“She’s fine,” Kyle added, softer now. “Just having fun.”

But then Johnny’s phone buzzed.

——

You were three drinks in, riding the wave of tipsy-but-not-gone, laughing with your girlfriends like the world hadn’t been heavy for weeks. You felt hot in your little dress—your boys loved this one—and your lip gloss was still perfect.

Your friends were hyping you up.

“God, you’re so hot,” one of them was saying, fanning herself. “No wonder you’ve got, like, four boyfriends.”

You giggled. “They’re not all officially my boyfriends. Just... y’know. Emotionally. Sexually. Territorially.”

Laughter erupted around the table.

You were leaning over to grab your drink when a man passed by and said something—probably meant to be charming. You didn’t even register it, but one of your friends made a face.

“Creep alert,” she murmured.

That’s when your heart swelled with sudden longing. You missed them. You missed your boys.

You pulled out your phone and hit Kyle Garrick’s contact with zero hesitation.

——

Your voice was loud. Laughing, high-pitched, tipsy.

Kyle’s phone lit up at 11:52 PM with your contact name—“💋Trouble (Ours)”—and he immediately answered.

“Hey, darling.”

“Kyyyyleee!” you sang into the speaker, your voice breathy and giddy. “Kyle, baby, hi—listen, I love you so much. I love all of you so much. You tell Johnny his arms are stupid sexy and Simon needs to loosen up and Price is the king of beards. Okay? Okay. Anyway—I might be a little bit drunk. Like. A little. Just like…a bit. And I’m outside the bar. The girls justttttttt left me. But I have chips. So I’m fine.”

Kyle was already standing.

“She’s drunk,” he said into the air, phone on speaker.

Johnny’s head snapped up from the couch. “How drunk?”

“I think she’s about to start serenading the pigeons.”

“I like pigeons,” you added helpfully.

Simon had already grabbed his keys.

Price, calm and composed, asked, “Where is she?”

You answered before Kyle could.

“I’m outside that place we went that one time, with the nachos! Remember the nachos? They were like, spiritual.”

“Got it,” Price said. “We’re on our way.”

—

You were spinning in a slow circle on the sidewalk when the SUV pulled up.

“Boys!!” you shouted, arms flailing. “MY BOYS.”

You stumbled as you ran toward them, nearly falling before strong arms caught you mid-collapse.

“Oh my god,” Johnny muttered, catching you. “She smells like vodka, perfume, and…is that glitter?”

“It’s always glitter,” Simon deadpanned, closing the car door behind you.

You beamed, flopping across Kyle’s lap in the backseat. “Did you miss me?”

“You were gone for three hours,” he chuckled, brushing glitter off your cheek.

“Long enough,” you whispered, poking his chest. “You’re warm. Like a radiator.”

——

You refused to sit properly. You ended up curled sideways across Simon and Kyle’s laps, legs draped over Johnny’s knees in the front passenger seat.

“You’ve got sharp thighs,” you mumbled, squishing Kyle’s leg.

“Sorry?” he laughed.

“Not sorry. Kinda hot.”

You reached up, booped Simon’s nose. “You need to let me climb you like a jungle gym.”

Simon looked straight ahead. “God help me.”

Price drove in silence for a moment before saying, “You know she’s not gonna remember a thing in the morning.”

“Oh, I will,” you said with conviction. “I’ll remember how Johnny blushed when I said his arms were illegal.”

Johnny blushed harder.

“And how Kyle smells like spice and safety.”

“…I think I’m gonna cry again,” Kyle whispered.

“And how Simon’s thighs are, like, 80% of my fantasies—”

“That’s enough,” Price cut in, his voice gruff but amused.

You pouted and muttered, “Bet you liked it though…”

——

The front door slammed open. You were trying to unzip your dress before your heels were even off.

Johnny panicked. “Hey! No stripping in the foyer, love!”

“You told me this dress made you feral,” you whined. “Now I wanna be naked and snuggled.”

Simon caught your hand and tugged you toward the bedroom. “At least wait until we close the blinds.”

Kyle brought you one of Price’s oversized shirts, which you accepted like a relic of a saint. You pulled it on and immediately sprawled across the bed, limbs akimbo.

“I want a cuddle pile,” you declared. “Right now. Simon on my left. Johnny on my right. Kyle at my feet. John watching over us like a Victorian husband who pretends he doesn’t care but would kill for me.”

You kicked off your heels with dramatic flair. There was a pause.

“...She’s not wrong,” Johnny said.

You mumbled, barely conscious “I am very brave, and very drunk, and you’re all so handsome and I deserve love.”

Price handed you water with a faint smirk. “And you require hydration, apparently.”

You downed it like a shot.

Moments later, you were burrowed on the couch between Kyle and Simon, Johnny curled at your feet, Price sitting in the armchair nearby with a book he’d given up trying to read.

“I love you guys,” you murmured, nearly asleep. “You’re like…my emotional support boyfriends.”

Price choked on his tea.

Johnny turned pink.

Simon’s arm settled around your back, slow and deliberate.

Kyle looked down at you like you were the sun.

“I love you,” you slurred again. “Gonna marry you. All of you. In a field. With sparklers. And pink cake.”

Simon rested his chin on your head. “Drunk or not... I’d say yes.”

Johnny whispered, “Same.”

Kyle kissed your forehead. “Me too.”

You blinked up at Price, hopeful.

He met your eyes and said quietly, “I already bought the ring, sweetheart.”

Your heart nearly burst—but the weight of sleep caught up first.

You faded into warmth, safe and tucked between the men who would, without question, come get you—always.

—

The Next Morning

You woke slowly.

The light was soft. Your face was tucked against Simon’s chest, one of your legs slung over his hip. Kyle was beneath your hand, rising and falling with slow breath. Johnny was curled around your back, and his arm was wrapped over your waist. Warmth pressed against every side.

And in the doorway—there stood John Price. Boxers, mug in hand. Watching.

You blinked at him sleepily. “You’re watching me sleep. Kinda sexy of you.”

“Someone’s awake,” he murmured, smiling.

You stretched lazily. “I feel like I got hit by a love truck.”

Johnny groaned behind you. “She lives.”

You shifted. “I regret nothing. Except maybe not kissing any of you.”

Silence.

Then Kyle said softly, “You just caught us off guard.”

You peered up through sleep-heavy lashes. “I meant what I said last night. I wasn’t just drunk. I love you guys.”

Johnny looked at you like you’d just dropped a bomb. “Even the part where you said you’d marry us all?”

“Especially that part.”

Simon shifted beneath you, voice gravelly. “She’s gonna kill us.”

“You’re all halfway gone over me already,” you teased.

Price raised a brow. “Then kiss me.”

You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on yours—firm, warm, sure. And when he pulled back, Johnny muttered, “Un-fucking-fair.”

So you kissed Johnny, soft and giddy.

Then Kyle—gentle and lingering.

And then Simon looked at you, one hand still on your thigh.

“You still wanna climb me?” he asked.

You almost choked.

Johnny: “I need a defibrillator.”

Kyle: “She’s blushing.”

You: “I hate all of you.”

Price smirked and handed you water. “You love us.”

“I do.” You sighed happily. “Now. I want pancakes and more kisses.”

“We’ll make you breakfast,” Kyle said.

“We’ll give you kisses,” Johnny added.

Simon just said, “Say please.”

You sat up with your hair wild, wearing one of Price’s old t-shirts, and declared:

“Please feed me and let me love you forever.”

Johnny whispered, “I’m gonna cry again.”

Price took a long sip of coffee. “God help us all.”

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Lasso Burns 🐄 ♡

f!reader, fluff, suggestive 18+ / pic creds / divider: @aquazero

“Darlin, it ain’t nothin’.”

You just looked at him then — tired. A click of your tongue and a squint of a glare before your gaze returned to his bleeding palms. “I told you to put on gloves. Packed them in your saddlebag too!”

Arthur had just gotten home from his new job; working with cattle for a ranch. Whether it be herding, wrangling, or feeding; it was honest work despite the low pay and well.. Despite the lasso burns. He hoped to learn the ropes to a life he wished to give you. A life where he was a rancher and not a cowboy.

A life that meant gambling with life less and making you smile more.

I don’t want you to keep runnin’ Arthur, you once said. Like a bullet through a hard head, your words had somehow gotten to him. But put on your damn gloves! Is yet to stick.

In fact, it did not seem to pierce through him at all. Here, under the mercy of his tent on this particularly hot day, he chuckled at your concern. As if his fiancée’s nagging amused him instead of ticked him off.

Maybe he had gotten old after all. Huffed out all the anger in his system and watched it die with one of the many lives he’s lived. Maybe your gentle hands had magically kneaded him soft. Figuratively, of course.

Whatever it is, he would much rather see smoke from your ears than smoke from a gun. Though preferably, no smoke at all.

“Well y’know it’s.. the thrill of the chase. Got no time to pull out gloves, darlin’, you wouldn’t know if you ain’t out there,” he humored in true Arthur Morgan fashion. His baby blues observed the way you cleaned his wounds, occasionally sneaking a peek at your furrowed brows and a forehead so creased, he could iron it smooth. So focused, you couldn’t see how much he adored you.

Well how could he not?

Sweaty skin glimmering whenever it’s caught by the summer sun, plush lips letting out quiet breaths, how you just fit right into place, knee wedged between his on this cot.

Worth every damn scratch from those ropes, he reckoned.

Which ironically is not the point you’re trying to make.

The joke managed to etch a small smile on your pretty face. A mandatory eye-roll went with it as if to say, not so fast. Just to remind him you still aren’t pleased.

“There she is,” he drawled, tilting his head to take a better look at you. One of his few prized talents; making you smile. Blinded, he didn’t even notice how you tightened the bandages.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“But you love me.”

And you did. He doesn’t have to hear further comments. It showed in the neat bow you tied the bandage in. How you didn’t forget to kiss it better too. You’re not fooling anyone. And especially not him.

“That’s why you’re always so sweet to me,” his voice dropped an octave, hands snaking to your waist and sitting you sideways on his lap. “Ain’t that right?”

“Don’t try to be cute,” you’re trying to mute your giggling now, squirming as his crooked smile lazily brushed your jaw.

“And why not?”

“Cause I’m still mad at you.”

“Okay.” Then his fingers slid down the hem of your skirt. A negotiation, you realize as you felt his fingers slowly tiptoe along your leg. “Still mad at me now?”

Well Goddamn.

“Mhm,” you dragged out, price still high. Though if there’s a way to win against Arthur Morgan, you’re starting to have a hard time remembering it now.

Even more so after you felt his hard on pressed under you.

For better or for worse, far more than poker, you’re his favorite thing to play with. And he’s seen you fold enough times to know you’re losing. “How ‘bout now?” Stakes raised, his breath warming your neck with his palm now gripping your thigh.

You whispered a cautionary Arthur! — to which he ignored — while scanning outside his tent. But why did your walls clench at the thought of him fingering you here? Damn him and his big, rough, calloused, weathered-

At the touch of his bandages against your skin, your mind miraculously cleared, striking up a deal. One he won’t like but a good deal regardless.

“Fine, I’ll accept this… little apology. If,” you smirked, voice low in his ear.

“If?” He chased, thumb pausing on your inner thigh.

“You start wearing your gloves.”

“Alright, alright, I will, I promise,” and he’s never grumbled anything so quickly, hand already scrambling to rid you off your bloomers.

“That ain’t what I mean!” You laughed, wriggling out of his grip and shuffling to the edge of his cot.

The speed of this poor, hardworking man’s smile turning into a frown? Faster than any horse.

“Well what did you mean then?” Patience worn thin.

“I mean, you can’t touch me until you wear your gloves tomorrow.”

He let out a loud scoff, his face the most scrunched you’ve ever seen it crumple into.

“Now darlin’.. That just ain’t fair,” he whined, poor wounded hand lightly slapping the cot like a kid.

“Oh but it is. I’m sleeping with the girls tonight. Tomorrow? Depends on you,” you proudly stated, fixing your skirt as you stood up. “I’m goin’ back to Grimshaw now.”

And he’s left there moping.

But.

You best believe he is wearing those damn gloves the next morning.

Claiming his prize as soon as he gets home and making you bite on those same gloves as he fingers you to oblivion and back 😋

Thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

my masterlist

[countrycritter]

Hear me out… Reader who fosters kittens when on leave 🥺

They get home from deployment just on time for their friend in the fostering program to send a pic of a box with “Kittens For Free” on the side of some rickety old backroad. And a text from her:

‘Got some kittens for you to take!! 😭’

So reader goes out there and brings them back to town and gets them evaluated. By the end of the day, Reader has a carrier of four two-week-old calicos.

And then the kitten hell begins. Feeding them every two hours, even at night. Sitting up at one in the morning cradling a mewing kitten that just wants its bottle. Weighing them to make sure they get stronger as expected from their charts. Keeping them warm with a cat plushy that has a battery operated heartbeat and heat pack.

By week two, Reader had dark eye bags but is completely overjoyed with the little kittens who are now able to wobble around after each other.

Their team, the 141, comes over for dinner and to watch the football game. They warn the guys that they have a couple of tiny visitors. They’re confused at the lack of context but brush it off and arrive at Reader’s home. Reader yells for them to quickly close the door and they look down to see four baby calicos skittering around their feet. Meowing and sniffing at these random guys they’ve never seen before.

Reader is laughing and bringing them over to the living room to introduce all the kittens.

By the end of the night, all the kittens have their favorite 141 member picked out.

A darker calico with a loud meow is lying in Price’s lap while quietly kneading and purring on his thigh.

The second calico kitten, with white socked paws, chews on Soap’s finger and attacks his hand whenever he spreads his fingers out.

The third is mostly orange with a few gray and white spots. It sits perched on Gaz’s shoulder while rubbing its soft face against his cheek and chirping quietly.

Finally the fourth kitten, one with a half-black half-orange face, naps in Ghost’s hoodie pocket. It meows every time Ghost moves to get up so he’s forced to stay in the same spot just so this tiny kitten can sleep peacefully.

Reader now has multiple pictures in their camera roll of the guys with the kitties.

The 141 will definitely be coming back before they get adopted just to see the little babies one last time.

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader | wc: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes��anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[gothghostiie]

price coming home around noon and finding babysitter!reader on the couch, fat little baby laid on your chest, having a nap together

he takes a pic (his new phone background) and lays down with you, curling up to both of you in a protective snuggle

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagines List

Before you ask, yes I been meaning to use @ave661 renders ever since she posted the Dad!Ghost part 2. Did I use most of them in this post? You know damn well I did.

Did I put in so much work into this one post? Yes. Am I going to be upset if it doesn't do as well as the ones I didn't put much effort in (Ahem the quokka Price imagine)? Also yes.

Tagging people who I think would like this: @puff0o0, @blingblong55. Honestly that was it but if y'all wanna be tagged in the next post then tell me in the replies :)

Parings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

❥ Dad!Simon who values nothing else over spending time with you and your child, even if it's something as simple as him and your little one laying down on your lap while you watch tv together. (Top left pic 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who gives the baby a bath for the first time, doing his best not to get soap in their eyes. Him rubbing the baby's head gently with his thumb to wash the suds off the little one's head and hair while they look up at him and coo.

❥ Dad!Simon who had a heart attack the moment he heard the baby cough while they're still in the baby bath net. He just turned away for a second to grab the towel behind him, the one moment he took his eyes off them, the little rascal tried to drink the bath water.

❥ Dad!Simon who's ever so gentle with dressing the baby, they're too little and too fragile in his eyes. Watching the baby try to chew on their own fist while he puts their little socks on. (Matching skeleton mittens for the little baby 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who loves hearing his baby let out such loud giggles whenever he kisses them, it's music to his ears to hear his little one let out such a hearty laugh, their little arms and legs flailing because their face is being tickled by his stuble.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely adores when his baby attempts kissing him or you (their momma) because it's basically just them having their tiny hands on his or your face while they're open-mouthed and almost headbutting their little lips on either yours or your husband's face.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely love nap time, mainly because he takes the naps with them. Nothing more sweet than waking up with the little one's life you two brought to this world.

❥ Dad!Simon who you found awake in the middle of the night to put the baby back down to sleep.

"Come on now pumpkin, you should let your momma rest. She's extremely tired of taking care of both of us.." Simon whispers while he cradles the baby in his arms, trying to lull them back to sleep.

You couldn't help but smile, knowing that what you do doesn't go unappreciated.

"I would never get tired taking care of you two" You said in a hushed tone, making Simon's head snap to the doorway.

To see you, his loving wife look at him as if he was the most important thing in this world reminded him if why he wanted to marry you a few years back.

❥ Dad!Simon who receives a video you sent him while he's deployed of the baby waking up from a nap.

❥ Dad!Simon who doesn't notice you in the room while you were trying to collect laundry, he was working out, you caught him doing push ups and your baby's attempts in copying their dad.

❥ Dad!Simon who bought the baby a little stuffie that they now are emotionally attached to and bring everywhere, yeah the baby constantly signals Simon to kiss the stuffie too.

❥ Dad!Simon who had to train Riley not to lick the baby so much because dog slobber and even though Riley was well behaved, poor thing didn't have much of a self-control the first time you guys brought the baby home.

❥ Dad!Simon who thinks it's absolutely adorable that his little one likes Riley so much.

"Dada!" The baby called out for Simon.

"Dada, Ri-ley" They said, pointing out a little finger to your family dog.

"Yeah pumpkin, that's Riley" Simon said, letting the little one make a beeline and waddled quickly towards Riley, giving the dog a hug with their tiny arms.

❥ Dad!Simon who spends forever looking for the skull part of his mask only to find the baby trying to chew on it, couldn't really blame them because the sight was cute and he knew how agitated they were with teething.

❥ Dad!Simon who constantly washed his gloves and almost never took it off during your baby's teething stage because god they were a strong biter. The gloves helped cushion the pain of the bites a lot.

❥ Dad!Simon who swore his heart was about to burst when he saw you and the baby meet him before he was able to go home after deployment for a surprise. (Of course Price was the one who set it up, he wanted to see his grandchild (might as well be)

"Dadadada–dada—da" Your baby squealed out while reaching out, recognizing Simon almost too fast even with the mask on.

"Pumpkin," Simon says as he takes your baby out of your arms and into his "–yeah, dada's here now. Missed me like I missed you?" Simon asks the baby as if they could actually respond.

The little one let out a happy little gurgle, hands reaching out for Simon's face.

"I'll take that as a yes" Simon tenderly kisses the top of the baby's head through his balaclava.

❥ Dad!Simon who loves baby hugs, the tiny little arms providing a bit of warmth while he holds his baby in his, rubbing their little head with his gloved hand and fingers.

Taskforce interacting with little Ghostie

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[55szn]

reckless - ln4

lando norris x verstappen!singer!reader smau

summary a sliiiight misunderstanding caused by yn made max go mad and almost commit murder warnings cursing fc sabrina carpenter taglist @jaydaaasworld notes requested!🌷 i’ve been dying to get to this request but i’ve had no time and no inspiration 😭 hope you like it!

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

ynverstappen

liked by lilymhe, maxverstappen1 and 1.957.181 others

ynverstappen abt last week ! btw “reckless” is officially out <3

tagged maxverstappen1

view all 7.578 comments

user no lando pic, no lando like, promoting reckless, not denying the allegations. i’m afraid it’s truly over

user i’m a child of divorce

user the pic with max tho😭

user he’s such an older brother🙏🏻

user i’m legit so sad over this

maxverstappen1 😊

user 😊 = “the body is buried”

user lando i love you but i’m choosing mum’s side on the divorce

lilymhe my beautiful girl😍

ynverstappen love u lils see u on sunday 💘

user HUH??????

user TF YOU MEAN SEE YOU ON SUNDAY

landonorris

liked by ynverstappen, carlossainz55 and 2.181.021 others

landonorris when you spend a few days away without a phone and your lovely girlfriend lets everyone believe you’re an asshole and suddenly you’re the internet’s most hated person and you have death threats in your messages 🙃

tagged ynverstappen, maxverstappen1

view all 10.178 comments

user HELLOOOOO???????

ynverstappen1 I’M SORRY BABY IT WAS JUST SO FUN TO SEE MAX FREAKING TF OUT

maxverstappen1 not funny. didn’t laugh

landonorris i second that

maxverstappen1 don’t second me i’m still mad at you

landonorris I. DIDN’T. DO. ANYTHING.

ynverstappen i love you please forgive me🥺

landonorris no

landonorris okay just because you’re like really hot

ynverstappen well that was easy

ynverstappen posting that last pic is evil tho i showed you that in confidence.

landonorris is what you deserve

maxverstappen1 what was with you and those glasses

ynverstappen it was a phase max move on🙄

carlossainz55 you almost needed bodyguards to walk around the paddock😂😂

maxverstappen1 at least he knows not to mess around now

landonorris i didn’t intend to who do you think i am mate cmon

user MOM AND DAD ARE STILL TOGETHER?!???? SUICIDE PLANS ARE OFF

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 2.178.181 others

ynverstappen yes we are still together no max didn’t murder him

tagged landonorris

view all 9.821 comments

maxverstappen1 i tried to

landonorris dude😞

landonorris i love but you almost got me killed love

ynverstappen the price you gotta pay❤️

user i don’t understand what happened here 😭

user right like what does “reckless” even mean

ynverstappen it’s a song i wrote years ago about someone very shitty, found it a few weeks ago and decided to retake it and release it :D

user girl why didn’t you clarify it wasn’t about lando since the beginning 😭

ynverstappen chaos is my fuel

user you are evil.

landonorris she is.

[gweelczz]

Golden

Bo Chow x OC (Rosetta)

Genre: smut (MDNI)

Warnings: Bo Chow is tewwww foineeee 😮‍💨, cigarettes

Summary: Bo receives a gift from Smoke and Stack and now he’s paying the price

A/N: a pic of Bo’s grills will be at the bottom but umm lemme know how y’all feel about it below. (Y’all goin hate me for this ending LMAOO)

The screen door creaked as Rosetta stepped into the house first, her heels clicking softly on the worn wooden floor. The thick Mississippi night still clung to their skin, the heat of the Smokestack’s dance floor followin’ them all the way home. Laughter, sweat, whiskey, and music still echoed in her bones.

Bo followed behind, slow and easy, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, a toothpick stuck between his lips. The grills that Smoke and Stack gifted him earlier that night glinted gold and wicked every time he smirked — and Lord, he knew what he was doin’.

“You been lookin’ at me all night,” he said, voice low as molasses, shutting the door behind him. “Thought I wasn’t gon’ notice?”

Rosetta scoffed lightly, tossin’ her clutch onto the side table. “Ain’t no law sayin’ a wife can’t admire her husband.”

Bo leaned against the wall, arms folded, watchin’ her move around the room. The way her yellow silk dress clung to her curves, ridin’ up ever so slightly with every sway of her hips — it made him bite down on that toothpick.

She turned and caught the way his eyes dragged over her, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizin’ every dip and line of her.

Then he smirked. The gold on his bottom lip caught the light just right.

It hit her low.

Rosetta paused mid-step, feelin’ the breath catch in her throat. That smile. Those damn grills. She felt her thighs press together on instinct, her body betrayin’ just how bad she wanted to crawl up in his lap and kiss the cocky right off his mouth.

“You wearin’ ‘em like that on purpose,” she said quietly, eyes narrowin’ as she crossed her arms under her chest.

Bo pushed off the wall with a shrug, pullin’ a cigarette from his pocket, lips partin’ just enough to slide it between ‘em. “Maybe,” he said, lighter flickin’ to life. “You actin’ like you ain’t been starin’ at my mouth since Smoke put ‘em in.”

Rosetta rolled her eyes, but the way she licked her bottom lip betrayed her.

He blew a slow stream of smoke and walked toward her, real slow. Each step was deliberate, like he was already unwrappin’ her with his eyes.

When he reached her, he dipped his head, his lips barely brushin’ the shell of her ear. “Go ‘head and look all you want, baby,” he whispered. “Ain’t nobody else wearin’ ‘em for you but me.”

That was it.

She turned to him without another word, grippin’ his collar and walkin’ him back toward the couch, hunger sparkin’ in her golden eyes.

Bo sat down with a lazy sprawl, legs spread, cigarette perched between his fingers as he looked up at her like she was the only thing that ever mattered.

Rosetta didn’t ask.

She climbed into his lap, slow and deliberate, skirts ridin’ high, hands slidin’ across his shoulders as she settled herself.

He took another drag from his cigarette, eyes half-lidded, that same damn grin on his face.

“You gon’ behave?” he murmured, smoke curlin’ between them.

“No,” she whispered, mouth against his. “Not even a little.”

Rosetta wasted no time reaching down unzipping his pants pulling out his cock. Hiking up the skirt of her dress she pulls her panties to the side sinking down onto him with a loud moan.

Bo’s free hand comes up to wrap around her waist holding her upright, cigarette hanging lazily between his lips while she rolled her hips. He watched her face screw up into various emotions of pleasure all while puffing on his cigarette that held something that wasn’t tobacco but a different plant.

He reached up grabbing her chin yanking her down towards him, “Open ya mouth baby” she obeyed welcoming the cloud of smoke he blew into it. “Good girl” he hummed in approval thrusting his hips up to hit that spot for her.

Gasping a bit she grips his shoulders burying her face into his neck sobbing as her hips rocked, he smirks, gold glinting in the dim light. “I know pretty, I know. Feels so good huh?” She whimpers nodding her head quickening her pace while his thumb found her clit rubbing tight circles to push her over the edge.

Clenching around him she came to an earth shattering orgasm panting into his ear. He rubs her back to soothe her not once putting the cigarette down or out. He gently removes her from off of his cock and carries her into the bedroom with one arm removing her heels and dress for her.

“Bo?…” she asks softly watching him as he dressed her and tied her hair up for her, “Hmm?” He answers placing a soft kiss to her neck. “What about you?” Bo smiles pecking her lips before gently laying her back saying something that would knock the wind out of her, his eyes looking as if they changed colors for a second; A trick of the light maybe?

“Baby, your pleasure is my pleasure”

———

Bo’s grills but picture

[evilhorses]

Canon hunter height difference