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hrefna-the-raven · 2 years

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Taste of regret (Chapter 1)

There aren't enough Travis fanfictions, I just had to contribute xD the world needs more Travis Hackett stories <3

Summary:

Chapter 1 - Wednesdays

The same routine once a week, every Wednesday evening, since Travis started doing the shifts at the station with Hank. They drove to the only bar in North Kill to drink and play pool, throughout the whole night right until the bar closed. They always were the last to leave, wavering home and cursing the next morning swearing to rein back the week after. Every Wednesday felt like some weird version of Groundhog Day right until a year ago when a new bartender took over. Fred, the owner of the bar retired, leaving the establishment to Y/N, a young and rather good looking woman,who came to North Kill to find refuge from the hectic army life. After six years as a soldier you had seen enough and chose the quiet country, although you weren't entirely sure if owning and maintaining a bar would be a definition of quiet. By pure chance, there was a touch of fate that Fred's farewell party happened to fall in the middle of the week, on the exact same day Travis had his night out, but at this moment neither of you realised what impact this coincidence had on the both you.

It was around 9pm when Travis and Hank came through the door, you could feel a sudden cold but fresh breeze clashing with the warmth and beer odour of the room, instinctively you looked up and your eyes met instantly with Travis'. It felt like one of those magical moments, neither of you knew what it exactly was, but you held the gaze, feeling a soft tug towards each. After breaking the eye contact, he and Hank walked up to Fred, patting him on the shoulder and discussing what you presumed to be farewell wishes and questions about his plans for retirement. Travis excused himself and walked up to the counter, sheepishly smiling at you. You threw your towel over your shoulder and leaned towards him.

"What can I get you", your eyes wandered over to his name badge, "sheriff Hackett."

Your voice had this soothing mesmerizing tone, radiating captivating aura, an invisible net which captured Travis' old heart on the spot, leaving him absolutely defenseless. He suddenly felt like a stupid teenager, a heat rising to his cheeks and quickly looked over to Hank who gave him a thumb up to order the usual.

"Two whiskey, please", he still avoided your eyes.

As time passed, the slurred conversation in the bar grew louder and it was just after 11pm as Travis walked up to you again, slightly staggering and definitely buzzed after two hours of toasting with Fred and Hank. A quiet voice in the back of head told him to be careful, to restrain himself, but the boisterous drunk voice seemed to win with better arguments. He dropped down on the bar chair and looked up, eyelids heavy and the vision starting to blur.

"Don't say it", you said jokingly while closing your eyes, pressing two fingers against your temple faking a concentrated expression, "two whiskey", you opened your eyes again and winked at him, which earned you a chuckle.

"Ma'am, you're trespassing on private property", he joked and tapped his head with a finger, "stop reading my mind."

"Please don't shoot me, I've got a search warrant", you innocently raised your hands holding up the drinks for him.

His heartbeat was tapping the rhythm of a dangerously fast song, his head began to spin, but there was this loud voice again, urging him to ask her name, argumenting that she definitely had some interest in him, starting a joke and playing it along.

"Ok, I'll let you off with a warning this time, but only if you tell me your name", his direct approach surprised even him and his stomach felt queasy causing him to tense up.

Before you could answer, Fred rocked up behind the sheriff and leaned on his shoulder, Travis foundered somewhat under the sudden weight.

"Y/N, I'll be off home now, I'm too drunk, too old and too retired to stay any longer", he babbled, "sheriff I'm off, it was nice having you and Hank around. Take good care of of my bar, Y/N!", he walked a few a steps away, turning around again, "oh and Travis, be careful with her, she might look like an angel but that woman can't bite the devil on her tongue and will say whatever comes to that weird mind of hers", and he went out of the door, leaving you and the sheriff in a moment of awkward silence.

You were the first to talk again and as time passed you ended up being caught in a deep conversation with the sheriff, only interrupting it here and there to serve the other clients. Travis and you discussed god and the world until it was midnight, you closed the bar and stood for a moment outside with sheriff Hackett, who was the last guest for that night.

"Until next Wednesday, Y/N, it was nice talking to you."

You made your farewells and left both in opposite directions. Travis tried his best to keep his body in check as he staggered home. He felt a little dumbfounded, his inebriated mind struggling with the events of this evening. He couldn't get a hold of this beautiful young woman wasting her time on talking to him, a weird old man in uniform, coming to the bar she now owned to get hammered once a week. He was nothing special, he never considered himself ugly but hell, he was well aware that he couldn't possibly be handsome enough to get that much attention from any woman your age. Whatever it was, he decided that he was too tired to overthink it in detail and he fell on his bed, falling asleep with improper dreams of you.

You let out a sigh as you let the apartment door shut. You didn't expect anything from this small town, you presumed to encounter trouble with some of the local drunks at work, maybe a quiet time outside your work, but your tiny list of expectations never mentioned the possibility to be intrigued, almost mesmerized, by the local sheriff. He was clearly older than you, even though not too bad looking, but there was something in his eyes that enamored you, something that was maybe slightly mischievous, there was certainly more to him than just being a lawman trying to keep a small town in check; and then there was this unspoken chemistry, a magical spell squiggling around you and him, talking to him felt like it came naturally, no need to restrain yourself, your shared interests and the sarcastic dark humour hopping hand in hand down a street of which only time could tell where it lead.

Chapter 2

#travis hackett #the quarry game #travis hackett x reader #the quarry travis #the quarry x reader #sheriff Hackett #there might be love #there might be smut #travis deserves good things #travis hackettxreader #travis hackett/reader #reader insert #female reader #x reader #Travis Hackett x you #the quarry x you #the quarry #supermassive games

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captaincaptainjill · 2 years

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Travis Hackett Birthday Celebration - Day 1

Wrote a little something. Travis Hackett x gn!reader 🥺👉👈

Summary: Sheriff Travis Hackett finds you, a counselor at Hackett’s Quarry summer camp, in a distressed state and comforts you.

It doesn't really relate to his birthday, but I hope that's okay.

#the quarry #travis hackett #travis hackett x reader #the quarry fanfic #the quarry game #Travis Hackett comforts you #soft Travis Hackett #good boy birthday #GBB #happy birthday sheriff #captainjill's writing #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fluff #travis hackett x gender neutral reader #travis hackett x you

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wibbley-wobble · 9 months

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HOLY SHIT THEY MADE DARYL A PIG

#they did him and rosita so dirty Daryl Dixon would never join a police state #I mean I get why Daryl pre zombie was a redneck with no long term profession who sorta thrives in apocalyptic setting #but also daryl has experience with motorcycles & presumably automobiles. and the commonwealth has to have live stock but a Hunter would be #handy. like idk Daryl has potential not cop options.#rosita I don’t think mentions any career just how she learned from her boyfriends with specific skills. so her unemployed ass needed a job #& she’s basically military #I can’t actually imagine rick being one of the storm troopers despite being a cop #ricks bit is that he’s kind of a good person and being a small town sheriff/cop is tv code for being one of the good ones #wait also Daryl’s bit is that he’s kind of a good person!!! whatever cop Daryl is out of character. acab #not too far into s11 but I think it’s cute carol is still so inlove with a man that she’s doing a politician’s dirty work. slay!#carol Heisenberg AU #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #doing something crazy because I want the girlies to see this post and no one else knows how to tag in this fandom #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead season 11

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toxicanonymity · 1 month

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The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#leatherface x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

1K notes · View notes

ladywuvly · 2 months

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barry sloane +au. +characters rec list!

masterlist. socials. recs.

head canons & imagines |

dbf!price boys your age by @captainfern

dbf!price shotgunning his cigar by @inkbybambi

dbf!price sugardaddy; part.2 by @faith369

bf!price headcanons by @empresskylo

landlord!price moving out by @gatorlovebot

husband!price darling wife by @ghosts-cyphera

honesty by @gatorlovebot - John doesn't like liars.

fixing your bad self-image by @sweetiecutie - You’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious lately, so John decides to fuck some sense into your head.

tummy love by @stoutpancakes

truth or dare? by @soapyghost

don't disobey by @jawabear - A risky move on the field leaves the captain less than happy with you.

steady girl by @jawabear - John loves when you help him trim his facial hair. And he loves what comes after as well.

genesis by @moondirti - It’s the first time you truly see him – this much of him, anyway, and he’s startlingly younger than you would’ve thought. The progression of a spite-fuelled relationship.

eye contact by @kungfubarbie101

two is hardly a crowd by @grippingbeskar

how to disappear by @fawnpires - After a failed attempt at a date, you unexpectedly find yourself in the hands of comfort of your dorm-mate, also known as your captain.

bartender by @sky-is-the-limit

rings by @glossysoap

what’ve you done this time by @captainfern inspo; @bleuu-moon

just the tip, love by @floralpascal

home is the feeling of you by @maryangelex - You’re Price’s fiancé back home and it’s been months since you’ve seen him. He’s been on deployment and days have been getting lonelier the more days pass. Until you get home one night from work to a more than pleasant surprise.

taking his time by @empresskylo

neighborly advice by @sky-is-the-limit - Your neighbor price takes matters into his own hands to finish what your incompetent ex could never. all in the name of good neighborly solidarity, of course.

cigar smoke and good sex by @lxvvie

helping hands by @deathsimage

break the rules by @bonitanightmxres - Months after breaking up, you and price agree to a “no strings attached” relationship to fill the void in your lives—but it proves to be harder than anticipated when you both start to catch feelings again.

how you deserve by @manmuncher777 Inspo; @sky-is-the-limit

fics |

never let me go 5/5 by @maryangelex - You worked at a coffeehouse, your life is filled with mundanity and you wouldn't change it for anything else. That is, until one crisp autumn morning, you meet the handsome Captain John Price and there’s an immediate, undoubted connection between the two of you.

neighborly 5/5 by @391780 inspo; @hereforthepedrofanfic - You and your neighbor, john price, slowly getting to know each other over the holidays.

the rear window 5/5 by @391780 - spinoff! neighborly!pricepov stalker!price.

soft 9/9 by @391780 - Soap says dumb shit in a bar, Captain Price falls in love with a fat girl.

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam 2/2 by @halcyone-of-the-sea - fisherman!price x mermaid!reader.

take me home, country road 5/5 by @ceilidho - 1800s!price. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town. only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl

callsign: zero 12/12 by @cass-the-mess - 2 years ago you saved John Price from an untimely death, only to disapear without a trace before he could thank you properly for getting him back home safe. You show up again 2 years later to help the task force defeat a new enemy. Tensions rise as you show your true colors and navigate through unresolved issues that puts you and your new team at risk. Are you willing to finally open up or do you keep pushing everyone away to keep yourself "safe".

marigold 7/7 by @captainfern - dadsbestfriend!price (pretty much anything and all things from this masterlist.)

disclamer! none of these are my works all credit to the authors. I just loved them so much figured I'd give them a shoutout!

#ladywuvly. recs.#captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #captain price smut #captain price mw2 #captain john price smut #navi.#nsfwcontent #18+ mdni

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wriothesleybear · 29 days

Text

Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons

~warnings: slight mentions of jealousy, stealing, and western stand offs that involve guns, shooting a man. Otherwise, mentions of flirting, nicknames, cheesy pickup lines from our favorite robot cowboy, pre-release Boothill, fem!reader.

~a/n: Just a quick little something due to @the-guardian-kitsune wanting me to share my thoughts on Mr. Robot Cowboy. Boothill's leaks are invading my mind while I wait for the update today. His ultimate...omg its so good! Is it bad that I get tingles when I hear the whip in his animation?

Outlaw!Boothill is the most fearsome outlaw in the town. Everyone runs to close their shops and doors when he comes into town. He's usually harassing the town sheriff with his buddies or robbing people. If someone gets on his nerves and actually has the guts to try and stand up to him, it likely ends in a stand off.

Outlaw!Boothill spends his time flirting with you when he's not busy stealing and holding up stagecoaches and trains. Always goes to your saloon, specifically for you. No one else really captured his eye except for you. Plus most of the other saloon girls are scared of him. For some reason, you're not. Hence, making him take interest in you. While everyone usually steers clear of him, you aren't afraid to talk to him.

How you guys met was he stomped his way into your saloon one day, looking for some whiskey. Seeing the most wanted outlaw, your other customers immediately fled. He plops himself down in a chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, waving his hand for a drink. "Hey little lady, you mind gettin' me some whiskey. Neat." You were already annoyed at this cowboy storming his way in your saloon, scaring your customers off and ruining your business.

Boothill looks up and notices you haven't moved from your spot behind the counter. Instead, you're crossing your arms and giving him an annoyed look. He glares at you. "Did you hear me darlin'? Whiskey. Neat." You don't move an inch, returning his glare and simply say no. He's caught a bit off guard for a second. He's used to people being too scared to stand up to him. "No?" He gets up, slowly walking towards the bar where you're at. "Do you know who I am." He points to the wanted sign on the wall nearby, his face adorns the flier. You glance at it. "Yeah. And? I don't serve rude customers. Either learn some manners or get out." Now he's thrown off his high horse. He's never had someone call him out like you did. You expected him to become more hostile, but instead, he just laughs. "Alright little lady." Since that day, he's been attracted to you. He likes the way you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself and speak your mind, especially towards him. He likes the 'feisty little lady that you are'. His own words that he used when he first asked you out.

Outlaw!Boothill teases you to get you worked up on purpose. If you really want to get him to shut up, call him "Bootie". The first time you called him that, you swear you saw his cheeks go red. Knowing the effect the nickname has on him, you use it when you're not in the mood for his teasing. But the times when you get so annoyed at his teasing that you angrily walk away, he uses his whip to grab you, pulling you right back into his arms and dipping you. Your heart skips a beat as he lowers his head to yours. You hold your breath while at a loss for words as he says, "Now where do you think you're going little lady?"

Outlaw!Boothill gets jealous when other men try to swoon you or check you out in your little saloon outfit. He is a protective boyfriend and is the type to defend your honor. So when he sees someone harassing you, he either challenges them to a stand off or he just straight up takes care of them right there in the saloon. Ugh just imagine: watching as the two men take 10 paces in opposite directions as everyone watches from the sidelines. Nerves invade your senses, worries cloud your mind about the men fighting over you. You don't want anyone to get hurt especially Boothill. Then, at the end of the countdown, both men quickly turn to each other, guns raised and they go off. Boothill is left standing as the other man falls to the floor. He walks over to you as you're left in shock. "Now darlin'. How about a kiss for your cowboy?"

Outlaw!Boothill who spoils you with his attention and gifts (which he probably stole). He gets a bit annoyed and offended when you don't accept his gifts, saying how he shouldn't steal things from others. It just goes over his head and he says "Darlin', I think you're the real criminal here since you stole my heart." This usually shuts you up. Your cheeks turn red as he smirks. Turning away from him, you quietly say, "Just.. go easy on stealing gifts for me, Bootie." He ignores your signature nickname for him and turns you to face him. Pulling you close to his chest, he says, "Whatever you say, darlin'." He gives you his signature shark tooth smile. He would never admit it but he's whipped for you. No pun intended.

#boothill #boothill headcanons #boothill x reader #Country boy I love you uwah

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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As a follower who is also fatherless over the past few years, yes please, more Jack Henry. I want to make him my new daddy. And I want him to make me a mommy… 🙈🙈🙈🍆💦

Is this who we are as a society? 😭😭 because me too.

@amisalami03

First piece: You Are My Sunshine

Yandere Head Canon: Hold Onto Me

Yandere Dilf Sheriff x Afab Reader

TW: breeding kink, body worship, dubcon (alcohol), etc

His calloused hands eagerly ran over the smooth skin of your stomach and hips. His lips fervently pressed against your navel, his scruff lightly scratching your delicate skin like tiny knives. It tickled

Earlier you had downed so much beer until your head rested on his shoulder and your hands squeezed his biceps. You told him he was strong and handsome… didn’t that mean you wanted him too?

Jack ignored the way you drunkenly tried to push his head away. You’d want this… you cried on his shoulder about how you couldn’t find a husband and he was more than willing to take that spot after he made you his woman tonight. And every night that followed

Jack ran his tongue down the fabric of your panties. He was undaunted from the way your body instantly recoiled at the touch.

“These have to go, darlin.” Jack huskily whispered, his fingers hook around the band of your underwear before he teasingly slid them down your thighs.

A low whistle escaped his lips as he eyed your bare body up and down. “Such a pretty thing you are… can’t believe you was hidin this under all yer clothes.”

You can only whine when he pressed a lingeries kiss to your lower regions before he dove right in. His lips eagerly sucked and licked you like you were his last meal.

Your head spun from the alcohol and the tumultuous lust that began to be built up in you from his ministrations. Your fingers tangled in his brown locks as you arched your back.

“Taste so fuckin good… ya’ve probably never had a man do this to ya.” Jack chuckled before he pulled his head away, his lips covered in your juices. “But I can take ya to new levels of pleasure.”

Jack guides your hand to touch the thick bulge in his boxers. You could feel him twitch in your palm in excitement.

“I’m gonna make ya my wife but first…” Jack guided your hand to pull down his boxers. His erect cock nearly jumped out to greet you. “I’m gonna make ya a mother.”

Jack scrambled to kneel between your legs. The sheriff spits a little on his palm to rub it up and down his shaft. The precum and saliva mixed together for more lubricant. “I’ve been wantin to do this fer so long now… ya have no idea how much a I want you.”

You try to scoot back but Jack grabs your leg and yanks you back towards him. A chuckle left his muscular chest. “No need to be so shy… I ain’t gonna bite ya… not yet at least.”

You gasp when you feel him slide the tip up and down your slit. Your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted as fear begun to over take you. There was no way he’d fit in you… he was so big.

“(Your name)? I love ya.” A scream erupted from your lips when he fully sheathed himself into you in one thrust. Your nails dug into his back to try to deal with the pain of the stretch. Your body trembled as it stretched to accommodate him. A hiss escaped Jack’s throat.

“So fuckin tight! I knew yer pussy would be good…” You just hold onto him as he stayed still and peppered your face with tender kisses. “My wife’s so perfect…”

You gasp when he gave one shallow thrust. Pleasure consumed your body from how deep he was. How he hit spots you didn’t even know you had… and Jack noticed your shift in mood immediately. A smirk now on his lips.

“Ya like that? Well,” Jack leaned down to whisper, his scruff tickled the shell of your ear. “This ‘ere is just the beginnin. Haven’t even started yet, darlin.”

And that’s when he begins to thrust. Your hands held him close as the mattress creaked beneath the two of you. You could see the bulge on your stomach from where his body met yours. The older man mumbled incoherent curses and praises as he began to fuck into you like a wild animal

“I’m gonna get your fuckin pregnant. Gonna give you a baby.” Jack hissed as his thrusts became sloppy. “Won’t let ya say no to bein mine. Gonna fuck this ‘ere perfect pussy every fuckin day till you know who you belong to…”

You only moan and gasp as he throws your legs over his shoulders so that you’re in a perfect mating press. His lips pressed against yours in a searing kiss as you felt your high slowly start to approach.

“Love ya so much… just be mine.” Jack hissed as he moved his lips to press hot kisses on your neck. “Yer all mine… my beautiful darlin.”

And that’s when he bit down on the junction between your shoulder and neck. The coil within you unraveled as you screamed out his name.

“Jack! Jack!” And that’s when you feel him shudder as a hot, sticky substance fills your womb. The sheriff whined as he continued to fuck into you , desperate to keep his and your high going for as long as possible until he inevitably goes soft.

“Fuck… fuck.” Jack collapsed on you and kissed the angry red mark he left on your neck. His mark. “That was amazin, darlin.”

You gasp when he suddenly flips your body on top of his. A smirk on his rugged face. “But it’s not over yet. Gotta make sure yer gonna be bearin my child.”

Jack rubbed your lovehandles with a smirk. “Now ya gonna ride this cowboy all night, darlin. Till the neighbors know my name and whose god damn baby yer gonna be havin.”

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anothertimdrakestan · 11 months

Text

Pinky Promise - Damian Wayne x Reader !Soulmate AU

~ where your birthmark is where you'll first touch your soulmate ~

A pinky finger is an odd place to have a soulmate mark. Most people had full hands, a set of lips marked on their cheek, or a hand print on their hip. Yet yours was just the length of your left hand pinky finger.

No matter, you'd had the habit of locking pinky's with people since you were born. Call it natural habit or a desperation to link fingers with your soulmate, it was your thing.

So when you started your internship at the Bludhaven Police Department Sheriff's office and got finger printed you didn't think anything of it when officer Grayson paused on your last finger.

"This your soulmate mark?" he gestured to your pinky, which was darker than the rest of your skin colour.

"Funny right! Just the pinky. Most people have normal ones! Where's yours? Wait. Is it on your lips?" you glanced up at the officer with a grin as he flushed.

"We all meet our soulmates in strange ways." he mumbled with a smile.

"Truth or dare? Or Suck and Blow? It had to be a party game right?" you leaned in as Officer Grayson pressed your pinky into ink.

"It was more of a greeting, she's not from around here so it was her way of saying hello." he stated, eyes twinkling with a familiar joy. God you wanted that. He continued, "I'll tell you, I know a kid with a pinky mark too. Cant remember which hand though. I'll bring him in soon, though neither of you seem like each other's type." you noticed his brows furrowed thinking about the "kid" he mentioned.

"Bring him in like, a bad guy? Not sure that's my type! I'm just here to learn about forensics!" you giggled. The officer just shook his head and told you to go start reviewing the steps to finger print collection and storage. Sounded super fun and interesting (not).

Turns out there's a lot to learn about crime forensics. By the end of the day you had a backpack full of materials to study on your transit ride back to Gotham. Hiking up fire escapes to the top of your apartment building, you decided to study via the lights from the top of your building. Nothing like the haze of Gotham to comfort you through pages of reading.

"Glad to see you're back." A familiar voice chided from your side.

"C'mon, you're excited to see me!" you grinned into the darkness, willing the shadowy figure to come forward. Like usual, he did.

"Good to see you, Robin." you waved with a teasing smile as he visibly shook his head.

"Can't say the same Y/N. I had more peaceful nights when you weren't here. What's got you up late this time?" he grumbled, keeping his distance as you held up your bunches of papers exclaiming "studying! Always studying."

"And you can't do that from the safety of your apartment?" he questioned. You shook your head no in response. "Need I remind you of the multiple times I've had to throw people off this balcony for you?" he yawned, gesturing to the ledge of the rooftop.

"Aren't I so lucky you're protecting me!" you teased. He wasn't wrong, sketchy people had on more than one occasion lurked on top the Gotham's tallest buildings, but you enjoyed the view and trusted Robin far too much to change your place of comfort.

"Protecting Gotham." he retorted, moving towards the rooftop to jump towards a night full of crime fighting. You never tried to stop him from leaving, you still thought it was insane that he even paused to talk to you, so you just waved and watched as he launched into darkness. Curling back up with your notes you appreciated the blanket of safety his presence had placed on you.

"Damian I'm telling you she has the mark on her pinky!" Dick screeched, chasing after Damian who was not willing to hear anything he had to say. "What do I care Grayson? I don't want a soulmate, I'm busy," he retorted, cascading through the batcave to get away from Dick's prying eyes.

"Just let me see! I wanna know!" Dick cried but Damian had already slammed his door closed.

"Word on the street is Dames found a rooftop girl. You didn't hear it from me though." Tim called from the adjacent room. The two were usually stuck on patrol together so it did make sense. But Dick still couldn't believe it.

"Which goddamn rooftop." Dick's voice was a low hum, the determination dripping from his tongue. He had a theory.

"Morning Officer Grayson!" you called down the hallways of the BPD office. You'd finally gotten a full night of sleep last night because you had finished studying a couple days ago, free from the piles of work. Your morning glee quickly dissipated when you were promptly handed a stack of papers and binders.

"You're doing great work, so we're moving you up to sample analysis. Lots of reading for ya!" the officer sounded congratulatory as he handed you the piles of paperwork. You couldn't deny, this was what you wanted, but it was definitely more work than you could do in one day. Needless to say, you hoped you'd get to see a familiar bird brain that night.

Cozying up on the rooftop you were so deep into the inner-workings of a microscope you hardly noticed the shadowy figure that had appeared across from you.

"Studying again are we?" Robin's snarky voice made you jump, eyes snapping to his face. "Tons of work! Calls for an all nighter, what about you?" you simply replied.

"Patrol." His response was curt but you wanted more this time.

"What after? Tell me- what does a hero do in his free time?" you leaned in with a teasing smile. To your surprise Robin leaned back against the railing and responded "I like to draw." Giving you more of a key into him than you'd ever gotten.

"I'm a terrible artist but I bet you're amazing! Keen eyes and steady hands always make for good art. You should show me sometime! If you want!" you rambled with a grin. You figured it would be an automatic no, but the corner of his mouth twitched up, almost like a smile as he said, "maybe I will." Something blossomed in your chest.

"Well, you're always welcome here! Like, all night. It's brutal." you joked, gesturing at the piles of papers in your lap.

"I may just take you up on that, my brother has been overwhelmingly obnoxious at home. Have a good night." Robin muttered as he left over the rooftop railing once again. You smiled to yourself, he likes to draw and he has a brother? Fascinating.

You were practically asleep in your notes when you felt something bump into your chest. A surprisingly elegant paper airplane. From the shadows you could see Robin sitting across from you, back against the rooftop railing, a notepad and pencil in his arms as he starred up at you.

"What? You were practically snoring." he said matter-of-factly.

"For the record, I do not snore. Also, how'd you make this? It's beautiful!" you exclaimed, delicately holding up the paper airplane to appreciate the little curves of the thick paper.

"I was into origami for a while. It's almost mathematical, very satisfying." his reply was short again, seemingly focused on the sketching at hand. So you fell into silence with him, focusing up on your note taking.

You didn't exactly notice the sun starting to rise. It was hard to see in Gotham, smog and all, but the inkling of light from the hazy sky gave you a clearer picture of the boy wonder then you'd ever gotten.

It felt strange but he was gorgeous. Silky black hair tousled from running his hands through it in between pencil scratches, when he was focused he bit the inside of his cheek, eyebrows knit into determination. You appreciated the reds and yellows of his costume, noting the various weapons hitched across his body. But the rest was hidden. Whether behind his domino mask, his suit, or his silence.

"It's rude to stare at a working artist" he grumbled, chin tilting up to show that his eyes were meeting yours.

"You've never stayed this long." you replied breathlessly. Squirming in your chair, knowing that you couldn't get any closer without him running off.

"Your presence isn't, unbearable, for what it's worth." his voice was so low but you could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Same to you." you whispered back, letting your tired eyes drift back to your notes which were pretty much done. It was an all nighter after all.

It felt like a few minutes but the billowing light from the rising sun told you it had been longer, and your head was severely drooping into your lap. "Y/n, you need sleep. Go to bed," his voice was warm but stern, enough to get you to lazily collect your papers and stand up with a yawn.

"Well! Thanks for hanging with me!" deliriously you held out your fist, Robin tilted his head to the side in confusion. You chuckled, "it's a fist bump dumbass." And to your surprise he closed the distance between the two of you, and slowly touched his knuckled to yours. His gloves were cold but you were focused on the fact that you were just inches from the boy wonder.

But a few seconds was all you got to realize how much taller he was than you before he melted back into the shadows. You stood stunned for a moment before stumbling back to your apartment, desperate for sleep.

"You look like hell kid" Officer Grayson greeted you with a questioning look as you waved him off of you. "Your fault for giving me hours of reading buddy." He grinned glancing down at the now filled notebook you'd brought to work. "You actually look dead kid, on lunch break we'll grab coffee," you rolled your eyes at his promise but knew you needed the caffeine.

Getting to know Officer Grayson, Dick, was surprisingly rewarding. He had years of experience and hundreds of stories that had you folded over from laughter. But there was something you were begging to learn more about, someone rather.

"Have you worked with Robin much?" your question broke the calm silence. Dick's eyes shone with some sort of pride, "I have, yeah. Good kid. Cold as hell but a damn good hero." and you nodded in reply, although cold wasn't exactly the way you'd describe Robin.

Dick's eyes lit up at something behind you, he shot up out of his cafe chair and said "look what the cat dragged! Glad to see you lil bro!" A loud enough exclamation that you turned around and locked eyes with a boy with jet black hair and piercing green eyes. The boy stood stunned at the door, starring at you and Dick before slowly approaching, eyes trained to yours before Dick pulled him into a hug. Immediately, he pushed himself out of Dick's embrace with a scowl, you couldn't help but grin at the reaction.

"Y/N meet Damian, Dames this is Y/N she's an intern at the office! Damian has classes over here so I figured we'd catch him during our break!" Dick babbled as he forcefully guided Damian into the seat next to him. Damian looked almost stunned, eyes flicking between you and his brother.

You broke Dick's rambling saying "Hi! You're a student too?" and he nodded slowly, glancing between you and Dick. "Studying what?" you tried to guide the conversation but he interrupted:

"You live in the area?"

"Nope, Gotham."

"Oh, me too." was all Damian muttered before his name was called, and he shot up, mumbling a "nice to meet you" and giving Dick another glare. Dick just grinned in response and the two of you soon headed back to the office.

"You had no right to do that!" Damian's roar was echoing in the cave that night. He'd just finished throwing almost everything on his person at Dick who was still uncontrollably laughing.

"C'mon Dames, were you just gonna visit your soulmate every once and a while on a rooftop for the rest of your life? Make a move lil bro. You're Bruce's kid you've got to have some game!" Dick teased back before a stray batarang was lobbed towards him.

"I've got it handled." Damian retorted angrily.

"Fine. fine. But blame Tim cuz he's the one who snitched on the rooftop hookups." Dick cooed before ducking out of the room to avoid further assault. Another screech filled the cave.

A few nights later, you were perched on the rooftop once again. This time you didn't have nearly enough work, but were hoping a certain distraction would stick around this time.

And he did.

"Hey" his voice was soft, and your head rose from your book to smile into the shadows.

"Hi! Whatcha got?" you noticed the silhouette was holding something.

"Come see." you could hear his chest rumbling. You felt like you were floating towards the thick railing of the rooftop.

And there he was again. Holding a sketchpad.

"You brought drawings!" you cooed, grinning as he inched closer, leather gloves flipping pages as you drank in the beautiful sketches, watercolours, and poems that filled the pages.

"What do you think?" he whispered, you swore warmth was vibrating off of him, just a few inches away from each other.

"They're beautiful" you quietly replied. He flipped another page, and it was a pencil sketch of you half asleep in your studies, on the rooftop. "From the other night!" you giggled, delicately tracing the sketch with your pinky. Robin drew a sharp breath, loud enough that your eyes were drawn up to his domino mask.

"I've got one more sketch to show you. But, I fear you won't like it." his head dropped slightly, his gloved hand toying with the bottom of the paper, as if debating whether or not to flip it.

"I'll be okay! Promise." you nudged his shoulder, holding up your pinky, a true promise, and a dangerous solution to the question making you dizzy standing next to him.

He shook his head, "look first, promise after" to which you nodded, dropping your hand and eyes to the paper.

As the page turned, you couldn't help but gasp. On the last page of the sketchbook, in the most intricate detail, were two hands. Pinky's locked.

"Take your glove off." you shot your gaze back to the hero.

"Wait." he took a step back.

You took one forward, reaching for the glove yourself.

Back again. "Y/N, wait." you froze at your name on his tongue.

"You and I both know what's under my glove, but I'm giving you an out. I've sat here for months thinking about doing this, wanting to do this. But, you deserve someone who doesn't throw their life away, who can be there for you, someone who isn't... isn't me" he gestured to his outfit, stocked with weapons.

"Who can be there for me? You've protected me more than anyone else in my life. Someone who deserves me? I'm not a trophy, I'm, I'm your soulmate."

"I know, but-" he began but you weren't finished:

"All I deserve, is someone who can love me. Can you do that?" you closed the distance, and he didn't back away.

"It's all I've ever done." he whispered. Delicately, you reached for his hand. He let you draw it from his side, holding desperately still as you peeled the glove from his left hand. And there, in the same pattern as yours, stood his mark.

"You promise?" you gave a small smile, holding up your pinky for the final time.

"Always." he closed the distance, locking your hands together as a warmth like you'd never felt spread through your hand, dancing up your arm, and bursting in your chest.

"Oh my god do you feel that?" you asked breathlessly, your right hand touching your chest.

He nodded, letting your hands drop as his right hand tilted your chin up, your eyes once again meeting a mask.

"I never thought I'd ever do this" his voice was soft, drinking in your closeness to him.

"I would've found you" you said with a grin, you had always had the sixth sense that Robin's visits to your study sessions were more than patrol.

He scoffed, "yeah my brother was gonna make sure of it."

"Your brother?" you dug deeper, fighting the itch to reach up for the mask he wore, your heart begging to see his eyes.

You felt him tug his pinky from yours, "I suppose a promise is a promise." he reached up for you, pulling the mask from his face as familiar green eyes met yours.

"Oh. My god." your jaw dropped, fitting the puzzle together.

"I guess the universe decided I was taking too long and put Richard Grayson on job. I must apologize for the coffee shop, I wasn't expecting to see my Gothamite soulmate seated across from my brother, in Bludhaven. " he sighed, eyes twinkling. You laughed in agreement.

"Quite the wingman" you mused.

Damian nodded, closing the distance as he said "don't ever tell him, but I'm thinking he was right all along" before pressing his lips to yours.

Weeks later you were far less sleep deprived, still loving your job in Bludhaven. Especially because a certain student was always waiting to pick you up for the ride home.

"Hi Dames!" you strolled up to your now boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his cheek while he locked your pinky in his, the two of you strolling towards the cafe that has become your shared favorite place. Settling down in a booth, you both fell into routine: sketching and studying while enjoying the other's presence.

A crazy few weeks, a huge change to your life, but a good one nonetheless. You had to hand it to-

"I knew you lovebirds would be here!" The bell on the cafe door rang, drawing you and Damian out of your focus. Damian rolled his eyes with a scoff and you gave Dick a wave.

Dick was stroll strutting around, "call me cupid the way I matched you two up!" he crooned.

Damian dryly replied, "Richard we are quite literally soulmates." but the oaf wasn't listening, too busy pretending to shoot you both with an invisible bow "cupid style".

You smiled to yourself, if only Dick knew how grateful you and Damian were to have each other... thank to him.

~~~

A/N: pure fluff for your timeline <3 hope you enjoyed!

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punkshort · 4 months

Text

somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sheriff!joel #waitress reader #STR fic

979 notes · View notes

grugruel · 2 months

Text

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

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shojizbae · 4 days

Text

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #the south #mechanical bullride #smut

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captaincaptainjill · 2 years

Text

Travis Hackett Birthday Celebration - Day 2

Travis Hackett x gn!reader (nsfw)

I added a second chapter, have fun with some soft Travis smut 😘

A big, big thank you to everyone who liked, commented and reblogged. Love you all 💕

Edit: There was something funky with the link and the second chapter didn't show. I hope it works now. Thanks, wonderful anon, for telling me <3

#the quarry #travis hackett #good boy birthday #GBB #happy birthday sheriff #travis hackett x reader #travis hackett x gender neutral reader #travis hackett x you #smut #contains smut #not safe for the hacketteers #captainjill's writing #the quarry fanfic #ao3 fanfic #technology seems to hate me today :(

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months

Text

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

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lovelykhaleesiii · 5 months

Note

dark!mike with vanessa sister…

perhaps she’s a police officer (or cop whatever people call them) like her sister or vanessa just brings her along.

Vanessa gets a call about a break in somewhere else and leaves her sister with mike at the pizzeria, one thing leads to another and mike her up against the desk.

(not the best at trying to explain stuff, sorry!!)

Good Cop, Bad Cop

PAIRING: Dark!Mike Schmidt x fem!Afton!Reader

WORDS: 2,352.

WARNINGS: swearing, p in v sexual intercourse, breast play, degradation kink, slight praise kink, dark!Mike, possessive qualities. Mike being a tease.

A/N - thank you for sending this request in! hope I did it justice x please feel free to leave a comment / reblog :)

It was nothing out of the ordinary, being paired with your elder sister, Vanessa, tagging along her side during the night shifts. If you were being quite honest with yourself, you had suspected it. Besides, she was your senior, a colleague, as you were just a fresh, new recruit in the local police department. To break the ice, your sheriff thought it best to pair you two together, nonetheless.

"Just need to make a quick stop-"

As the alluring neon red and blue lights flickered off from the reflection of the dark, stained glass, your curious eyes wandered towards the desolate, outdated building before you. From the sheer glimpse of the ruined exterior, an uneasy sensation, some hesitation to even leave the vehicle began to churn in the pit of your stomach. This place did not look welcoming by the least, despite the shattered fragments of cartoonish figures decorated on its exterior: most likely an attempt to appeal to the children of previous generations.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria?" You confounded, naturally feeling the puzzling flex of your brows furrowing with confusion, as you turned to face your elder sister in the driver's seat.

"Just need to make a quick round, Mike here is the new security guard... This place is known for vandals and criminal activity. And he's only one person."

With the swift mention of his name, Vanessa's head instinctively nudged towards the direction of the older, rugged looking brunette, who stood by the locked entrance of the neglected complex. Eerily as if he had heard the mention of his name, even with the substantial distance apart, his head flicked upwards as means of a wordless "hello."

His features felt unthreatening, strewed with a tinge of exhaustion, as you noticed the dark circles that saturated beneath his eyes. Regardless, you could not deny, he was quite pleasing to look at, a handsome face nonetheless: it was a shame he spent his nights hidden away in some remote corner of town, and his days asleep.

"Glad to see you made it through another night. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't run into trouble already. This is my sister, by the way, and our new rookie, Y/N-"

"Dragged you along, did she now?" Mike remarked, and although you surmised it was his attempt to kid, his tone remained monotoned, except for the subtle, sly smirk across his face, as he assertively leaned his hands over to shake your own. His grip was strong against your own, his hand larger in size, swallowing your own, his texture rough. His lingering eyes had been fixated on you since you came into his vision: catching fleeting yet blatant glances, he showed no shame when you had caught him those few instances. A sudden, flustering wave of heat flashed across your face, feeling your cheeks turn shamefully scarlet. Even disguised in your uniform, declaring such authority, you felt bashfully meek in his presence, rather a school girl than a cop.

As Vanessa's familiar voice echoed in the background, your attention panned to the vacant, decaying building. It felt somewhat eerily familiar, a faint memory you could scamper in your mind in the distance and yet nothing jolted a clear vision.

The abrupt static whirring of the radio from the vehicle had snapped you back to reality: immediately she excused herself as she scattered off, leaving you to bask with Mike.

"S-So you've only just started as security... Here?" You softly stutter, intent on maintaining direct eye contact with Mike in reciprocation, even though it felt conflicting against your meek nature. Despite the practical training and experience dealing with delinquents, this vulnerability was a first. He seemed timid yet unnerving simultaneously: you felt uncertain whether he was simply just a quiet, introverted man or if he truly intended to disguise and deceit himself as one.

"No-No, I've been here for a month now, your sister just likes to make her rounds. Think she's still uncertain about me, but I don’t blame her."

His response ignited a satisfying wave of relief: as you leaned towards the hurtful notion that he would ignore you. The huskiness in his low voice almost made it feel as though he was sleep talking, only loud enough for you to hear.

"Just a curious thing though, your uh- sister. She's never mentioned you before...W-Why's that?" He uttered, as his brows frowned in sync with his words, a bemused look tinged across his face, as he patiently awaited your answer.

"W-Well V's always been private about her personal life. Since I could remember, sh-she's always been this particular way. Just her innate nature, I s'pose," Defeatedly sighing garnishing your final words, with an indefinite shrug, before glancing back at Vanessa, caught in her own world.

"Well, your sister took no time trusting me... But you- You are the undetected anomaly in her story. There must be a reason..."

Vanessa had abruptly left in the company of a man you had just met.. Having hastily returned from the radio call, from a fellow colleague requesting for her senior presence as backup, she was bound to follow. She had insisted you remain with Mike as he settled for the night, whether he approved of it or not however, you could not say with certainty. He remained silent and sullen, as you both carefully watched your elder sister driving off into the nightly distance, the glaring neon blue and red lights flashing in the distance.

Mike had led you in, gesturing you to enter first as a gentleman would, before shutting the entrance close once more. Thankfully, he had broken the awkward silence, excusing himself momentarily to boost the electricity, only to give you a brief tour of the premises before guiding you into the security office, where the blank monitor screens echoed your reflection.

"So you really just sit here the entire night? And watch the screens?" You intrigued, feeling the natural flex of your brows furrowing, as you fiddled with the papers and dusty stationary on the desktop. A part of you, unable to fathom that a job like this would exist in such a deserted place like this.

"A job is a job for me. At that point, I was willing to take anything they offered." The monotone level of his voice was unwavering, deep, his tiresome eyes remained fixated on you though, as you remained unwilling to return the favour.

"I suppose so, don't you get lonely all by yourself though? Nothing to make the time go by-"

With no spatial awareness, you hadn't even realised how close Mike had slowly crept towards you. Closing off the distance inch by inch, before he assertively strode towards you. The unfamiliar sensation of his arm snaking around your waist, was what had caught your deficient attention, as he plunged his lips against your own in a passionate kiss. And although your eyes had widened in bewilderment, your body froze like an ancient statue in the initial seconds, as your mind raced to comprehend. As he lingered on, pursuing the kiss, your tense muscles easing, you felt no obligation to shove Mike off. No urge to decline his advance, it felt destined, relaxed into his embrace.

"W-What was that about?" You breathlessly stuttered: not wanting to decline Mike nor give the impression that you had disapproved. Despite only having met the man an hour ago, he made you feel helpless, like some schoolgirl with a pathetic, little crush that devoured her from the inside out.

Was it truly the boredom of the night that had consumed his rational mind, to do something that seemed quite extraordinary for him?

"You don't think I didn't notice you blushing outside? How nervous I made you? You don't think I would take advantage of a pretty girl like you gushing on me, huh?

His soft lips once more made contact with you, although this time exploring the sensitive crook of your nick: eagerly sucking at your tender skin.

"M-Mike we sh-shouldn't, I-I'm an off-"

"Nah-Nah, baby... You're going to be my fuck toy tonight. My little, pretty whore to keep me company. That's what you really want to be, right?"

His gentle kisses in between the suckling of your skin was bewitching enough to send your mind into an abyss. You knew this was wrong, you knew that if Vanessa found out, if your department found out, it would stain your career, or worse. And yet, your body said otherwise, disintegrating into Mike's lustful appetite.

"I-I sh-shouldn't."

*tut tut* "You know you want to, baby... Why deny it? I didn't think there were any pretty girls worth it left in this fucking hell hole... You think I'm going to pass it up?-"

With his words, Mike had swiftly lifted you momentarily, nesting himself between your spread legs as you sat atop the desk. One of his rough, calloused hands remained pinning your hips, whilst the other snaked its way smoothly beneath your uniform, firmly cupping and kneading at your breast.

"No-No... I've already put up with enough, I deserve something special. M'gonna fuck you so good, I'll have you forgetting you even were on the job."

"Y-Yes" You pathetically whimper, your hands instinctively wandering over Mike's body, itching to feel his bare skin against your palms. You manage to sneak your arms beneath his shirt, feeling the thickness of his flexing muscles beneath his moving body, as you grip at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

"Look at you, princess, already so needy for me. You desperate for my cock, huh? What happened to the talking stage?" He lowly teases, a smirk spewed across his face, as you feel its curvature press against your skin, his low chuckle in harmony to your mindless whimpers and moans.

"L-Later- I-I want you now, M-Mike."

"That's my girl," His deep growls vibrating against your tender, cool skin. You hadn't even realised how swift and slick Mike was, unclasping your bra, as he began to unbutton your polo shirt, before undoing your pants. Returning the favour, with much haste and eagerness, you began to unbuckle Mike's worn out belt, as you undid his jeans.

"Easy, baby, easy- What would they think of you back at the station? The police department's little slut... My pretty, little slut."

For a few split seconds, Mike ogled at your lace panties, savouring the sight before pulling them down to expose your bare, wet cunt. Noticing how his eyes lit for the first time since meeting, an ecstasy glistened in his dark orbs, as he licked his lips with desire.

"I'm gonna have you at my beckon call from now. Spoil me with your services."

Mike pulled his body apart from yours, the heat exuding, as both your bodies felt flushed and moistened with sweat: panting as you caught your breath. Mike naturally pulled his underpants down, exposing his rigid, girthy cock: just above average length, although the sheer size was mouthwatering. His tip reddened, with a few veins protruding with anticipation.

"Look-Look at what you've done to me, Y/N..."

Without a moment to spare, as Mike once again closed the faint distance between: his throbbing cock teasingly brushed against your sensitive folds, before plunging himself in. The lightning, raw pain was exhilarating, as you felt your walls stretching beyond relief to accomodate for Mike's bulky mass. His steady pace was sloppy, as his thrusts would quicken with each pump, pummelling your body further into the desk. If you hadn't been clinging to his back dearly, nails drilling into his skin [you were certain evidence of reddened, defined marks would show] that you'd knock of a monitor or two.

"F-Fuck you feel s-so good. So tight for me, baby. Th-This was meant to be. M-Meant for me."

Endless curses and swears escaped from Mike's mouth, in sync to your moans of his name. Each time his name left your mouth, his thrust grew more vigorous, igniting something animalistic in him.

With each sloppy, hasten pace and forcible thrust, Mike had finally reached his peak, shooting his hot, thick seed inside of you, drenching your insides. Your stretched, tight walls coated now, some seed spilling through the gaps onto your inner thighs, once again was a gesture that made Mike pleased. Pleased with himself, more so.

Inevitably, this ignited the same peak, as your wetness pooled over his cock, still buried and throbbing inside of you.

"F-Fuck Y/N... Th-That was s'fucking good."

After having regained your senses and thoughts, you'd managed to clean yourself up, Mike humbly passing you a spare cloth or two from the cleaning storage. He remained by your side, intently watching you from a shy distance, interjecting just once to make certain you were okay. As you finished, he exhaustedly sat himself down on the desk chair, rubbing his palms against his thick, sprawled thighs.

"You make sure it's you visiting me from now, baby. Your sister talks too much for my liking... And she's not as pretty to look at as you."

Despite the familiar, bashful feeling Mike made you feel, as foolish as butterflies in your stomach, you felt somewhat used, and dejected.

"I-I'm not some girl you can just sleep around with Mike. I have morals, and I have a respectable job... You can't just use me like-"

"I don't want to use you, Y/N... I-I want to make you mine, the fucking is just an ugh-added bonus."

Sighing in defeat, although Mike's sly smirk was a devious looking one, his eyes however remained unchanged and stern. In the pit of your stomach, your instincts told you there was truth to his words.

Just as you were about to fathom a response, the sudden, screeching ringing sound of an outdated buzzer blared through the speaker. Mike leapt over towards the monitors, deciphering a button or two, before multiple screens lit up with the perspective of some camera in a corner. On one screen the familiar, blonde hair of your sister shot through, before her face turned towards the camera.

"Our time's up, princess. I'll see you later, okay?"

credit for dividers - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#mike schmidt #michael afton #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt imagines #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt fanfiction #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf imagines #fnaf imagine #michael schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #dark!mike schmidt

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