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blue-aconite · 10 months

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it was just a kiss || j.h.s

Summary: A night at the Hard Deck takes a turn when Jake confides in Mickey about some personal matters.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, jake has feelings, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), fanboy is the ultimate bestie, drunk rooster is a menace to society

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x reader

Authors Note: Based on this prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting. Thanks to @writercole @demxters & @seresinsweetie for looking this over for me!

“The girl with the bachelorette party has been eyeing you all evening.” Fanboy handed him another beer, perching onto the bar stool next to him.

Hangman looked over to where the group of girls were seated, catching the eye of the brunette that had been trying to get his attention since they arrived. The girl gestured towards the doors but he shook his head, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Dude, what are you doing? She’s hot.” Mickey slapped his arm, eyes wide as saucers.

“I’m not interested.”

Fanboy looked concerned, swivelling around on his chair. “Alright, let me get this straight. For the past month, I’ve seen countless women approach you, yet you’ve turned them all down. What’s going on?”

Jake snorted into his beer. “Nothing. I’m just not interested.”

“Can we please just have a human conversation? I know that underneath all of those protein shakes and hair products is an actual human being called Jake, and not Hangman. So, stop trying to avoid the subject.” Mickey leaned back against the wall, knocking his knee into Jake’s.

Jake stared at Fanboy for the longest time, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth but no words came out, so he settled back against the wall as well, keeping his eyes on the floor.

The Daggers had been permanently stationed at Top Gun since the Uranium Mission, instructing and flying together. Jake tried his best to play nice, offering to drive most of them home from the bar at times and buying beers on their nights out. He had made an effort to try and interact more, trying to show interest in their lives but he didn’t think that the rest of the group, save Javy, had actually accepted him into their little makeshift family. He still felt like he wasn’t truly a part of the group, but Mickey’s concern told him that maybe he was wrong.

Fanboy shifted slightly, putting his beer away. “Jake. You can talk to me.”

“I didn’t think, uh, I mean -”

Fanboy smiled, patting his arm reassuringly. “I know. I know you think we don’t care, but we do. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But something is obviously bothering you. If you’re not comfortable with me, Javy might be a better option?”

Jake didn’t know what to say. He waited for the punchline, where Fanboy would laugh and mock him but it never came. Mickey was being sincere. The WSO just waited patiently, fingers drumming on the wooden bar behind them.

“You know, you remind me of my brother.” Mickey picked at his jeans, pulling at the loose strings over the knee. When Jake didn’t respond, he kept on talking.

“His name is Diego. He’s the oldest. There’s five of us, by the way. He’s just like you. Walls up so high you can barely see past them. He always used to make fun of us when we were kids. I hated it. But when I got older, I realised that he was only doing it to push us. Mom and dad put a lot of responsibility on him and he did the best he could.”

Jake listened as Mickey rambled on, the uncomfortable pit in his stomach lessening the longer Fanboy kept talking.

“I know you’re doing the best you can as well. I know that you taunt Rooster with the sole purpose of making sure he pushes his own limits. I can tell. You push us all to be better.”

He swallowed thickly, trying to make out what had transpired in the last 20 minutes. “How? How can you tell?”

Mickey grinned widely. “Like I said, you remind me of Diego,” he grabbed the bottle again, “you’re one of us Jake, even if you don’t think so.”

Jake decided to throw caution to the wind and believe what Fanboy was telling him. If it was all true, then maybe he could talk to him. Maybe he could start being a part of the group. Before he could even open his mouth, Rooster appeared out of thin air and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“HANGMAN! The lady over there is asking about you!” Bradley leaned in closer, as if he was going to share a secret. “I think she wants to fuck you.”

Fanboy snorted loudly, startling Rooster. “Fanboy, didn’t see you there! What do you think, do you think she wants to fuck him?”

A bright red flush was covering Bradley’s cheeks and his eyes were slightly unfocused and glazed over.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Rooster, how much have you had to drink?”

Bradley was leaning onto Jake now, his head on his shoulder. “You know, you smell good. And your hair is very soft.” Rooster patted Jake’s head, smiling stupidly at his teammate.

“Okay buddy, I think we should get you home.” Bob appeared, slinging Rooster’s unoccupied arm around his shoulder, supporting most of his weight as he pulled him off of Jake. Bradley made a sound of protest as he was separated from Jake.

“No, I was gonna help Hangman get laid. There’s a lady over there, and she’s got the hots for him.” He waved in the general direction of the bar.

“He isn’t interested. So you can go home,” Fanboy laughed, pushing Bradley’s hand away as it aimed for his head.

Bob tried to get him to move, but Bradley turned in his grasp, almost losing his balance. “You’re not? But I was gonna help.” He pouted, leaning back onto Bob who grunted under the extra added weight.

Jake didn’t get the chance to answer as Bob hauled Rooster away with the help of Payback who had snuck up on them. Bradley complained the entire way, waving excitedly to Penny at the bar as his teammates practically carried him out of the door.

“I guess that’s it. You two coming with us or what?” Nat sauntered by, Javy following closely.

Jake was about to agree but Fanboy beat him to it. “In a minute. You go ahead.”

They waved goodbye and Jake itched to follow his best friend. Now it was just him and Mickey. Even though he was about to spill his guts out right before Bradshaw interrupted them, Jake hesitated.

“C’mon, let’s get some air.” Fanboy left his seat and Jake had no choice but to follow him out onto the deck. The sun was long gone, the pale moon taking its place. He could hear the waves crashing against the shore, people laughing further down the beach as they sat around a bonfire, sparkling brightly against the darkness.

“I could tell you were actually going to talk before Rooster interrupted us. Still want to?”

Jake hesitated for a moment before slumping back against the wooden rail. “Have you spoken much to the new team of mechanical engineers that arrived a couple of months ago? Like, Mercury for example,” he sighed as he nodded towards the window. Through it, across the bar, he could see Mercury sitting with her friends.

Mickey stretched out his legs in front of him. “Sure. Mercury is badass. Her team is much better than Rogers and his idiots.” Their former mechanical team had been replaced by Mercury and her co-workers at the beginning of spring. Everyone preferred the new team.

“Well, you see, uh. A couple of weeks ago, I ran into Mercury. And we’ve hung out a few times, outside of work. And I…” Jake trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

Fanboy turned to him, eyes wide. “Are you telling me the reason you’ve been turning down all these women is because you’ve got a crush on Mercury?”

Jake’s heart hammered in his chest, gut twisting slowly. “It’s not that. Well, partly. I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how much I try to occupy myself. I miss her when I don’t see her for a couple of days and I feel like, I don’t know, all giddy and shit when she smiles.”

“It sounds like more than a crush. So why the sad face man?” Fanboy nudged his side.

“I kissed her. Well, she kissed me. We kissed. And after, she said ‘it was just a kiss’.” Jake deflated with disappointment, trying to hide just how much her response actually hurt him.

Mickey stayed quiet for a while before speaking. “Did you say you wanted something more?”

“I told her that I knew it was just a kiss but asked if it had to be just that.”

“What did she say?”

It hurt more than Jake liked to admit to revisiting what happened after their kiss. “She said that while she liked me, she knew of my reputation and had no intention of being another notch in my bedpost.”

Fanboy clicked his tongue. “And that’s why you’ve stayed away from all the women. Trying to show her that you’re serious?”

Jake hadn’t anticipated for Mickey to see right through him. The emotional turmoil of opening up like this, to have someone listen and not mock, was jarring. Jake didn’t exactly have a lot of those people in his life. But Fanboy stayed, listening patiently as Jake talked.

“Yes. Her words hurt but they’re true. I’m just trying to show her that I’m willing to change, for her. That I have changed.”

His companions' next words cut deeper than they should. “You’re in love with her. This isn’t just a crush.”

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Love wasn’t something Jake was familiar with. It scared him, to be vulnerable and open with someone. To let them see every part of him. But it was true. Over the course of a few short weeks, being in Mercury’s company had him breaking all his own rules as he realised that he did love her.

“Yes.”

“Then you should tell her. Tell her that you’ve changed, for her. Tell her that you love her.”

Jake sighed. “I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same, she made it very clear.”

Mickey slapped his arm, startling him. “Dude! Stop. You said that she said she liked you. If your past is the only thing stopping her, then you need to tell her,” he paused for a moment before lowering his voice, “and you deserve someone, Jake. You deserve love.”

He didn’t want to cry but Mickey’s words brought a wave of emotion upon him. He swiped at his face, trying to hide the tears.

All of what Mickey was saying went against everything Jake had ever been told. His father always told him he was no good and that no one would ever want anything from him. That he would never amount to anything. Never achieve anything.

“It’s okay man. I get it. You’re scared. But in the wise words of my abuela, ‘To love is to be scared. If you’re not scared, it’s not worth it’.”

Jake laughed, a watery sound before wiping his face again. “She sounds like a smart woman.” Jake took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

Mickey laughed as well, eyes sparkling. “She’s the best,” he looked past Jake, eyes trained on something outside Jake’s field of vision. “If you were to tell Mercury, what would you say to her?”

Jake took a moment to ponder, trying to put his feelings into words. He guessed it was too late to turn back now, Mickey had already seen parts of him he hadn’t shown anyone in years.

“I guess I would tell her how she makes me feel. That her smile brightens my day and that I want to make her laugh. That she makes me push myself to be better, both for myself and her. I’d tell her that I love her, even if it scares me. That I’ve changed and that my past doesn’t matter. She’s the only one I want.”

Fanboy clapped his hands together, smiling widely. “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?” Jake turned but Mickey wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained behind him, shit eating grin in place on his face.

Jake turned his head, his eyes landing upon Mercury standing a few feet away, bottle dangling from her hand. He immediately choked up, hands growing clammy as he tried to find his voice. The look on her face told Jake she had heard everything.

“I’m gonna head back inside,” Mickey pushed off the chair before murmuring, “Remember what I said. You deserve love,” to Jake. He then sauntered back into the bar, saluting sloppily as he walked past Mercury.

Jake held his breath, counting to twenty as she approached him, sitting down tentatively in Fanboy’s abandoned seat. Neither of them spoke at first. Jake’s heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he thought it would break free. His palms were sweaty and he wanted to bolt, rush back inside.

“You love me?” She quietly asked, hands twisting in her lap. He desperately wanted to reach out and intertwine their hands but he wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Mercury chose for him when she grew tired of waiting for an answer.

She reached over, clasping one of his hands between her own. “Jake. Talk to me.”

Mercury was staring at him with a gentle smile. Her face was open and inviting, making Jake feel braver. He could do this.

“Yes. I don’t know when it happened.” She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Does it matter when it happened?”

“I guess not.”

Neither of them spoke after that but there seems to be no need. All Jake focused on was the feeling of his hand between hers, the way they both seemed to breathe at the same time. It’s peaceful.

“I’m sorry that I said it was just a kiss,” Mercury murmured while tracing the veins on his hand. “I wanted to say it was more than that, but I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Hurting you is the last thing I want. I want this. Us.” Jake squeezed her hand back, intertwining their fingers. He desperately wanted her to repeat his earlier words back to him but he didn’t want to push her either. He knew he loved Mercury. He could wait while she sorted her feelings out.

After all, he hadn’t exactly planned on telling her nor even approaching her.

“Jake?”

He hummed contentedly, the feeling of her hand in his calming him down better than any trick his therapist had ever taught him.

“If you want to, I’d like that kiss to be more than just a kiss. I want you. Truth is, I think I fell in love with you when we went hiking. I know that’s so long ago and I’m sorry for not telling you but -”

Jake cut her off, cupping her face and pressing their lips together, smiling into the kiss. She loved him. It was all he needed to know. They’d figure the rest out later. If Jake had it his way, they’d have the rest of their lives.

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#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick fic #fe writes #jake hangman seresin

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somanyratsinthewalls · 6 months

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omg I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope 😭 with sanji, please? 🙏🏼

congrats on 300 followers!! 🎉 you deserve it all and more! 💕

S A M E ! I'm such a loser it's my FAVORITE TROPE!

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 15000

Prompt: "We aren't sharing a bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

Pairing: Sanji x Afab!Reader

Prompt: “We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

— —

*wheeze*

“No, no please! Tell me again, HOW exactly you beat that sea king?” You laugh out while you clutch your beer to your chest on your barstool.

“See this? It’s a very special exploding star! And you just-“ Usopp grabs a small bundle out of his satchel and moves to show you while you wipe tears from your eyes.

“Wait I thought I slammed the thing and we ate it for dinner last night?” Your sweet, naive captain chimes in as he over hears your conversation with sniper at the end of the bar.

“No, you’re remembering it wrong!” Usopp crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. You take another sip of your drink and snort. Another voice booms from the other end of the bar.

“You had the rest of the beast for lunch, and yes, Luffy punched it in the face.” Sanji slurped the rest of his red wine and placed his glass on the bar top.

“Well, if your stomach isn’t growling, we have our answer then?” You held back your giggles over the top of your beer glass as you looked at Usopp.

The rest of your crew surrounding you at the bar laughed.

— —

“You’re a fucking idiot you want to put Maldon salt in an apple pie?! Get off your fucking high horse!” You slurred your words as your pointed your beer bottle in Sanji’s chest.

“Mon cherie, I am not arguing with you tonight about the integrity of a pie crust.” Sanji smiles as he takes your hand on your beer in his and lowers it back down to the bar at your side. The rest of your crew had retreated to their rooms at the inn you had all chosen to stay at for the night… minus you, Sanji and Zoro.

“Holy shit… you guys are like… so boring?… woah…” Zoro claimed from his horizontal position on several barstools next to yours. You and Sanji were drawn out of your conversation and looked down at the blacked out swordsman.

“We should leave him here, right?” You smirked up at the blonde man in front of you.

“Obviously.” Sanji smiled as he reached out to grab your hand and helped you down from your tall bar stool. He leads you towards the innkeeper’s desk with your hand still in his.

“We’re part of the Straw Hats. We’d like our room keys, please.” Sanji politely says to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper shuffles through a large, leather bound book of reservations and stops on a certain page. “I-..I’m sorry sir bit it seems we only have one room left available.” The nervous innkeeper sputters out, afraid to offend a group of such powerful pirates.

“What? You’re telling me that you can’t-“ Sanji begins to become upset.

“That’s fine.” You interject. “No need to make a fuss.” You assumed it would be a typical room with twin beds and a couch. You and Sanji could sleep easily and if Zoro got his shit together he could end up on the sofa. You didn’t feel like fighting an elderly innkeeper in order just to have a private room to yourself. You were a pirate, there were much bigger issues in the grand scheme of things.

The innkeeper gave you a thankful smile and gave you the key to your room. You and Sanji head up the wooden stairs and arrive at the door of your room. Number 17. You turn the key in the lock and enter the candle lit hotel room. To your dismay there was one queen sized bed and no other large furniture in the room other than a bear skin rug.

You and Sanji stood in the doorway of your newly minted hotel room.

“Shit.” The both of you said together.

“We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Sanji immediately retorts as he enters the room and begins stripping himself of his suit jacket. He takes it off and drapes it over the chair in the entryway of the room.

“Oh…. Uh… Ok…. I’ll get ready for bed then…” You head into the ensuite bathroom and prepare yourself for bed. You strip yourself to your panties, and take off your bra underneath your shirt after washing your face and brushing your teeth. After getting ready for bed, you exit the bathroom and quickly slide your body under the covers of the bed. Sanji awkwardly and wordlessly slides past you into the bathroom and you hear the shower start to run.

In the darkness of of the bedroom you lay back on the bed. You were just a bit drunk, you felt your head buzz as it hit the softness of your pillow. You listened to the sounds of the shower and couldn’t help but think about how close Sanji was to you, completely naked. Your mind wandered… You thought about how his blonde hair might plaster his forehead under the shower stream… you thought about how the soap would foam and drip down his toned abs… You felt yourself start to become wet… you slipped off your panties and discarded them somewhere underneath the covers.

Your right hand slid under the sheets and crept towards your cunt. Your delicate fingers began to circle your clit just the way you know you like and you breathed out in pleasure. You find yourself becoming lost in the pleasure when you hear the bathroom door swing open.

“Y/n?” Sanji emerged from the bathroom clad in just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh! Sanji! Sorry I was… distracted….” You curl the covers up under your chin.

Sanji stands at the foot of the bed, seemingly assessing the situation in front of him.

“Y/n… were you… touching yourself?” Sanji cocks his head and asks you while standing over you.

“I… I was…” You sheepishly looked down at the top of the comforter, too embarrassed to make eye contact even in your drunken state. “Can we just forget about this?” You lifted your head.

“Y/n… I could… help… if you want? I mean… you probably didn’t finish… right?” Sanji met your gaze.

Your stare met his and your mind went through a laundry list of better ideas before you settled on the act you chose to take next. You lifted your shirt over your head and leaned up towards Sanji and placed a chase kiss on his lips. Fully naked you pulled back from him.

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You whispered with his head in your hands.

At the speed of light, Sanji shed the towel and landed on top of you again. He smashes his lips into yours with a hunger you had never experienced. He pressed his tongue fervently into your mouth, like you’d never give him this opportunity again. You felt the velvet tip of his cock brush against your hot sex.

“Let me just put it in… please, y/n?” Sanji moves his lips to mewl into your neck as he nips and sucks at your nape. He begs you so cutely and desperately while he grinds his hard cock into your wet center, there’s no way you could say no.

“Please Sanji, want to feel you…” You move your right hand down to position his cock at your hole. You grope sensually at his cock and try to push it inside of you. “Sanji, want you inside of me, please…” You whimper out in his ear as he pushed his face further into your neck.

Sanji obliges and pushes himself balls-deep inside your waiting hole. He lets out a high pitched whine as he bottoms out.

“Y/n…” Sanji lifts his hands and starts pinching at your sensitive nipples below him. Sanji leans backwards and looks at your wrecked body beneath him, tight hole enveloping his throbbing cock. “Pretty girl needs to cum… let me help…” Sanji plants one hand on your hip and the other on your throat.

Sanji uses the thumb of his hand on your hip to stroke your clit and the applies pressure with the hand on your neck so that your airway is perfectly restricted.

“San-….. ji!….” You choke out against your lovers grip as you cum on his hand that was deeply stroking your sex. Sanji’s soft, deft fingers swirl around your clit and spasming, stuffed hole. The feeling of Sanji’s thick cock buried deep inside you and the stimulation from his hands on your bud was too much as you felt your eyes roll back into your skull…

“You’re so pretty mon Cherie, I want to cum in you baby…” Your head shoots up and Sanji slams his hips deeply into yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart…”

Sanji plows his slender hips into yours as he cums deep inside your raw walls.

“Ah!-“ You squeeze and cream all over your lover, eliciting a pathetic whine from the spent lovecook who was still inside of you. You try to catch your breath and flop your head back on the pillow. Sanji gently pulls out of you and lays himself down next to you. You toss and turn on your stomach for a moment before settling in and Sanji moves to sit up.

“Let me clean you up, beautiful angel…”

“Can we just sleep tonight, this bed is really comfy…” You whisper as you stroke Sanji’s cheek, keeping him in bed with you.

“Im certainly glad I’m not on the floor, ma belle.” Sanji wrapped his arm around your torso and promptly began snoring.

xx Mo

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #zoro x reader #law x reader #zoro x sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji

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floral-force · 1 year

Text

Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies

cowboy!din djarin x f!reader - old west/western au oneshot

summary: When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.

words: 10.7k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY. smut (rough, fingering, oral, riding, doggy style, spitting, spanking), period-typical violence (not graphic) and sexism (not from din), the helmet hat comes off, din is morally gray and not always nice, barmaid!reader

a/n: This is heavily inspired by Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy and the Man with No Name. Please mind the tags.

read on ao3 | masterlist

When he stormed into the saloon, you knew he was trouble. You had an eye for these things, a sixth sense for danger.

A hush fell over the crowd of people when the swinging doors opened. The stranger’s eyes narrowed under his black Stetson hat, and a cloth covered his face below them, the plain beige fabric laying over the earthy green poncho draped over broad shoulders. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over the few inches of exposed skin. You nearly dropped the glass you were drying when he started to walk over to you in those stiff, dark denim pants, the bottom of a brown leather holster bouncing on his thick right thigh, heavy with a hidden weight.

Something within you stirred, scorching your skin. He sat down on a stool right in front of where you worked and conversation within the saloon picked up again. His severe gaze burned a hole through you, and you took a step back, suddenly conscious of the sweat on the back of your neck and the heat coiling low in your gut. The sweat starting to dot your forehead certainly wasn’t from the heat of high noon, the sun hanging in a cloudless blue sky.

“Can I get you somethin’, sir?”

“Whiskey,” he said, his voice gravelly but smooth at the same time. Seductive and sultry.

You nodded and turned around, pulling a bottle of amber liquid off the bar shelf and grabbing a low glass. You could feel him staring at you as you poured, heat prickling your ears. You told him the price and he shifted to the side, digging money out of his pocket.

“Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You gave him a smile and walked over to the register, entering the sale. You stashed the change in the jar you kept next to it, happy to see it slowly getting filled to the brim. You didn’t make too much here, but you had no other choice. It wasn’t a bad job, but it came with its problems—drunk men getting handsy or bold being the overwhelming one. When you’d arrived here all those years ago, it was either working as a barmaid or a laundress. You chose the former, and you didn’t regret it. It just meant you ran into interesting people, and this man was no exception—he’d made that clear when his brown boots stomped across the old wooden floor.

“‘Scuse me, miss?”

The man called out to you, and you quickly walked over to him, spreading your arms out and leaning forward. He was swirling his glass in a lightly tanned hand, a blue cuff settled over his wrist. You wondered if his hands felt rough, how they’d feel on the soft skin of your waist.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir?”

“You know if the sheriff here has any bounties out?”

Oh, shit. He was one of them. “Mm-mm.” You shook your head. “I haven’t heard or seen anythin’.”

He nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward and staring into your eyes, his brow set. He was close enough for you to see the sweat under his eyes, staring you down, making your heart thrum in your chest and throat go dry. The chestnut eyes gave you a once-over, slowly trailing down your body and stopping where the bar top hid the rest of you from sight. They jumped back up to your widened ones, and the corners crinkled with a hidden smirk.

“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause suddenly, I find myself wantin’ to stay a bit longer,” he husked, pulling the cloth away from his face and slugging the rest of the whiskey back. You caught a glimpse of his jawline as he tilted his head back and noticed the scruff covering it.

You raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Oh, really? How come?”

“Found myself somethin’ a bit better than a money,” he said, tipping his hat back slightly. “And she’s standin’ right in front’a me.”

His smooth compliment nearly made you forget he was a bounty hunter. The way he eyed you up and down almost covered up and dulled what your head was telling you. This man was trouble through and through, and you’d known it from the moment he swaggered through the doors. He’d caught your eye like no other man just passing through ever had. You wanted desperately to comb your fingers through the dark brown curls peeking out under his hat, to kiss the lips hidden under the cloth, to know him like nobody ever had.

You must’ve been staring a bit too long because you heard a low chuckle and felt a finger tap your forearm. You shook your head and chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry, sir, just thinkin’ too much.”

He hummed. “I like a woman who thinks too much. Makes it even better when I make her go quiet.”

The purred innuendo made your lips part and eyes go wide. You wanted that. And he knew it. The clever cowboy was already playing you and pressing all the right keys; it was as if he’d already snuck under your skirt and made you go limp.

He looked over his shoulder at the stairs climbing up the back wall facing the doors. “You stay around here?”

“Up-upstairs,” you stuttered. “I got my own room.”

“Good.”

“It-it doesn’t hide noise all that well.”

He stared at you and snickered. “Darlin’, you really think I give a shit?”

And he really didn’t. He had you howling as he rammed into you, completely unforgiving as his cock filled you to the brim. The man growled and grunted your name as he fucked you from behind, rough hands gripping your ass and spreading your round cheeks. He burned like sand at noon, more punishing than the summer heat. You gave in to him, letting him burn you as much as he wanted.

You were drooling into your worn mattress with tears in your eyes. The man held your wrists behind your back in one large hand. The other was kneading the fat on your hip as it recoiled with each slam of his hips.

“This th’best pussy I ever had, darlin’, god damn,” he rasped.

“G-good,” you panted between his brutal thrusts.

“Listen t’yourself.” He laughed, the sound mirthful and deadly. “Can barely fuckin’ speak. Told you I’d fuck ya til you couldn’t speak, darlin’.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned at his dirty words. You should have never doubted that he’d have your mouth going dry, feeling his cock dig deep inside of you and choke something in your throat. He humbled and punished you for doubting him with his unforgiving pace. His tongue lavished you with dirty praise and raspy groans, the sounds making your cunt throb and suck him in deeper even as your walls started to get raw from his roughness.

He’d proven his tongue was filthy only moments ago as he licked circles around the sensitive bud between your legs. You were entirely naked—garments in a heap on the floor—but he still wore all his clothes except for the poncho and cloth. Even his worn denim shirt was still on, only the first four buttons undone—his hands were too busy yanking your clothes off to be bothered with his. The man was impatient and hungry, and you didn’t dare deny him.

He still wore the black hat as he worked his mouth on your sex, tonguing between your folds and teasing your slick hole. But you didn’t mind it, not when he moaned into your cunt with each broad lick of his tongue. He gave in to your whiny pleas for his thick fingers, obliging you with two right away. The digits stretched you open, made you throw your head back and clamp your legs around his head, the brim of his hat bending into your shins.

He clicked his tongue and placed his free hand on one of your knees, gently pushing it down as he muttered, “Spread those legs for me, baby. Need ‘em open for me.” You did as told and he hummed in approval. “Atta girl.”

He praised you by sucking your clit and rubbing his fingers against a soft spot within you. You were twitching and mumbling nonsense, an utter mess for the scoundrel between your shaking thighs. Your cunt pulsed around him, your peak suddenly rising with the motion.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d coaxed as you panted and gripped the sheets. “Need to get you nice’n ready for my cock.”

It only took a few more moments before you came with a sharp cry, legs shaking and a foot twitching. A fire blazed within you, one he had started and intended to keep burning. He worked you through it, sucking in a breath as he felt you pulse around his fingers.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. Then, he flipped you over, not even giving you time to recover from your high.

He’d barely tugged his pants down, only undoing his belt and dropping his holster to the floor. He growled and grabbed your ass, lifting it into the air and forcing you to arch your back. When he pushed into you with a groan, you felt the fabric scratch against you as he sheathed himself in your still-sensitive cunt.

You hissed and squirmed and cried out “Fuck, I’m—I’m still sens—”

“Don’ care,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ need you, darlin’.”

You nodded and moaned at his harsh affection. You were ashamed that you loved it, that it made you throb. A sharp slap on your ass made you jump, the tingling sensation left behind sent your head spinning. He rubbed it and soothed the tender skin, rough hands suddenly soft.

And now, he fucked you without mercy. Any trace of tenderness was gone with the wind. The man with brown eyes filled you more than anyone ever had, made you see stars when others had only made you see specks. When you begged him to spit on himself, that your cunt was getting raw, he pressed his sweaty chest against your back and gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles.

You opened your eyes and saw his open hand in front of them.

“Spit.”

Your pussy ached at his demand and you opened your mouth for the brown-eyed man, lifting your head as much as you could. Saliva dripped off your tongue and landed on his calloused palm. He took his hand back and you set your head back down, taking a deep breath when he pulled himself out of you to stroke his cock. His free hand grabbed the meat of one of your cheeks, his thumb kneading close to the tight ring of muscle hidden between them. The wet sound of him stroking his cock with your spit made you smile and shudder.

There was something satisfying about this cowboy using you. All rough edges and dry desert heat. He was as ruthless and unyielding as the western terrain you called home. You nearly screamed when he rammed himself back inside of your aching hole, silencing yourself by burying your face into the mattress. The man carved a canyon through you with brute, relentless force and praised your wild howls and whines with a slap on your ass and one slow rock of his hips. He teased you over and over, quickly learning where to drag the fat head of his cock to make you shiver and shake.

“P-please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t fuckin’ stop!”

The man chuckled at your desperate cry. You felt yourself shiver when he ran his hands up your thighs before kneading your plump cheeks again. Any pride you felt at hypnotizing him with your ass was quickly washed away when he landed a sharp smack against your right cheek, immediately following it with one on your left, another landing back on your right. You arched your back even more for him and wiggled one of your hands down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The thick member filling you to the brim was driving you to the edge, and the added sparks of pleasure from your sensitive nub was pushing you even closer.

He started fucking you with something even more feral than before, his groans loud and strained. Your moans melted into his with each burning stroke and every needy rub against your clit.

“God, I can feel you fuckin’ pulsin’ around me, baby,” he growled.

“Y-you feel so fucking good,” you answered, mouth open so your hoarse moans could slip into the air.

“Yeah? This th’best cock you ever had?”

He stole your answer with a punishing slam of his hips. Your free hand clawed at the sheets, and you tried to squirm up away from him. There was a low growl as you were yanked back, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. The man chuckled mirthfully when you gasped, impaled on his cock yet again.

“Don’t try to run from a bounty killer, darlin’,” he rasped, his thrusts getting needier, reaching deeper and lingering longer within your quivering hole. “’Specially when your cunt feels this fuckin’ good.”

His breathing began to match your frenzied pants, the pace of his thrusts as frantic as your fingers on your sensitive clit.

“I’ll ask ya again,” he gave you a sharp thrust, keeping you in place with his strong hands. “Is this the best cock you ever fuckin’ had?”

“Fuck—yes, baby, yes!” You howled into the mattress as you felt your walls start to spasm, a sudden heat starting to take over you.

“C’mon, darlin’, that’s—fuck—that’s it.” The brown-eyed man’s hips slapped against your ass, the sound echoing, and he started growling—the feral and primal bounty killer finally taking over. “Fuckin’ c-come for me—fuck, I feel it—good fuckin’ girl—”

You came around his length with a scream, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. A white-hot fire burned from your aching, quivering hole to your fuck-drunk head. You couldn’t feel anything other than your walls clenching around his cock, couldn’t hear anything other than your desperate whines.

“F-fuckin’ come for me, you fuckin’ scoundrel,” you growled, voice shaking as you continued to ride the crest of your climax. You drunkenly smiled when you heard a low groan and whined when the head of his cock kissed something deep within you, leaving its mark on you forever, guaranteeing you’d never feel this good ever again.

“Fuckin’ God—darlin’, I could bury m’self in your delicious cunt forever—fuck!”

The brown-eyed man gave your spent hole one final, cruel thrust. He pulled out of you with a groan, and you hissed at the feel of him leaving you; he left you raw and empty and gaping. You quickly forgave him when you heard the squelch of his fist jerking himself to completion with your juices. You smiled and sighed as he covered your ass in hot ropes of his seed, reveling in how fucking needy he sounded when he reached his peak. He sucked in air through his teeth, slowly loosening his grip on your hip. You jumped when he slapped your ass, shaking your head when he smugly chuckled.

You scooted forward and dropped your aching legs to the mattress with a groan. You didn’t care about the cum he left behind; right now, you needed to catch your breath after the divine beating he’d just given your pussy. The floor creaked under his boots as he started rustling around—probably putting that poncho back on—and humming to himself. You jumped when something wet stroked across your painted ass, quieted by a low hush.

“Just cleanin’ up my mess,” he rumbled. “I may be a scoundrel—” he mocked your voice— "but my mama taught me manners.”

You chuckled and turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at the wall and your two measly pillows. “You’re a true gentleman.”

He shrugged, then gave the tender spots on your cheeks a soft massage with his fingers and then tapped your hips and helped you roll onto your back. You melted into the mattress with a blissful sigh, not bothering to think too long about how someone so brutal could be so tender.

“I wouldn’ call myself that, darlin’.”

His eyes met yours and you bit your lip. Even though the cloth was covering his face again, you had a hunch that what hid underneath it was handsome. You could see the corners of his eyes gently crease with the whisper of a smile as he stared down at you, running a warm, calloused hand up and down your sweaty skin.

“I’m just as rotten as the rest of ‘em.”

The next day, the owner was with you, standing behind the bar all the way down on your left and chatting with an old regular. Mr. Daniels was middle-aged, stout and balding, with skin as leathery as a saddlebag and always dressed in a white shirt. He was constantly mentioning his wife and daughters and boasted about them to anyone who would listen; he seemed to extend that fatherly protection your way sometimes. He was a kind enough man—letting you live in the attic above the saloon for free, paying you a decent wage—and you had no complaints.

You weren’t surprised to see the brown-eyed man slamming into the saloon the next day, the patrons a little less rattled by his presence than they were yesterday. When he stomped over to where you stood, Mr. Daniels gave you a quick glance, and you responded with a smile and tilt of your head—I’m alright.

“What’ll it be, sir?” you asked.

You could feel your sore hole throb when he looked up at you under that wide-brimmed hat, a ray of sun lighting up his golden skin and making his chestnut eyes glow. He leaned against the bar, resting a bent arm on it. Relaxed and certain of his place in the small saloon, not a hint of fear in his posture.

“I think you already know, darlin’.”

He winked at you, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You turned and grabbed the whiskey you’d poured him yesterday with a nod. His eyes looked you up and down as you grabbed a glass and poured out his drink with a coy smile on your face.

He handed you money for the drink and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change.”

You smiled. “You’re too kind, sir.”

He tipped his hat. You walked over to the register, entered the sale, and dropped the change into your jar. As you moved back to where you’d been standing, the man straightened and walked down the bar to where Mr. Daniels and the old man were talking. You watched as he pulled a scroll of yellowed parchment out from under his poncho and spread it on the dark wood counter. Out of curiosity, you took a few small steps in that direction, acting busy with organizing the liquor shelves.

“You seen this man?” he inquired.

“No, ‘fraid not,” the old man replied with a smack of his lips.

You turned around and picked up a glass and a cloth, drying it and looking around the saloon. At table in the far corner, two men sat playing cards, smoke curling out of their mouths, the brims of their hats tipped down and hiding their faces from prying eyes. A few other tables were scattered around the small saloon, more hatted men nursing their drinks at them. Their soft chatter filled the air and was speckled with the occasional sounds of a horse trotting down the road. It was a slow afternoon, but you didn’t mind if it meant you kept yourself occupied with eavesdropping.

“And you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Mr. Daniels responded.

The man hummed and started to roll the yellowed paper up. You squinted, trying to see what was printed on it. You swallowed when you read the word “WANTED” in big black letters before he rolled the edge back up. The man leaned back and shoved it back under the poncho, nodding. He knocked the rest of his drink back and set the glass on the bar top and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes before pushing it down your way. Something vicious lurked within those brown eyes, keeping itself hidden under the brim of his hat and only revealed now that the afternoon sun didn’t reach them.

You extended your arm to reach and pick the glass up, immediately bending over and dunking it in the bucket of soapy water at your feet. You bit your cheek, ashamed that you felt heat pulse between your legs at his darkened stare. Being the target of his gaze was either thrilling or terrifying; right now, you weren’t sure what it was for you. It made you wonder how he had looked at you while he was ramming his cock into you. Ultimately, whatever his gaze was didn’t matter if it made you burn just from the thought of it.

The sound of someone cursing and a stool being pushed across the floor made you snap up to stand again; your eyes widened when you saw the man’s fist wrapped in the fabric of Mr. Daniels’ shirt, pulling him against the bar with only one arm. The old man was standing back a few feet away on the poncho-clad man’s right, his long gray eyebrows knitted together.

“You sure?” He growled.

The cantina had gone silent, all eyes focused on the man and his hold on Mr. Daniels. You were staring too, your heart racing in your chest and threatening to break your ribs.

“Even if I did,” Mr. Daniels said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t know where to find him.”

He glanced over at you, eyes lingering before meeting the man’s stare again.

The man tilted his head. “You wouldn’t know?”

Mr. Daniels shook his head again. “I told you, I just wouldn’t—” his eyes landed on you— “know where—” back to the man—“to look.”

You took a step back when Mr. Daniels looked at you one last time, then back at the man. His brow was set, but you glanced down and saw his hand shaking below the bar. The man let go of him with a push and conversation in the saloon resumed as he started to stalk towards you. His dark eyes were stormy as he set his sights on you and squinted, the spurs on his boots jingling menacingly with each step. You braced yourself for impact; muscles tensing, heart racing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, fingers curling into your palms and nails digging in.

The collision never came. His poncho swept past you and he came to stand at one of the two small square windows at the front of the saloon. You doubted he could see much with how dirty the glass was; the sun must’ve scorched the dust and grime into the aged panes before you’d even blown into town. Frankly, you were relieved that you weren’t on the receiving end of his threatening, squinting stare.

However, you couldn’t deny the way something in your gut fluttered when you thought you’d be the one pulled against the bar by his leather-rough hands, his fingers catching the low neckline of your blouse and skimming over your hot skin, your shallow pants gently waving his bandana. But you reckoned that the haunting flutters were probably just lusty leftovers from your tryst the other night.

He looked over his shoulder at you, still squinting and heavy with frustration. Your lips parted when he held your wide eyes with his stare, the flutters growing into a rumble and shaking you from within. Or maybe that sensation was just his heavy footfalls across the floor echoing under your skin as he turned to the left and stomped out the doors. You watched him with eager eyes as he walked to the inn across the street, beige dust kicked up with every sinister step. Before he unleashed his storm on the inn, he turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon.

You squinted, moving closer to peer out of the windows. No, he wasn’t looking at the weather-worn building—he had his burning gaze focused on you.

With a tip of his hat, he slid inside, and you leaned back. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart beating hard and fast underneath it.

Mr. Daniels clicked his tongue, announcing his arrival at your side. You looked back at him, the man’s stare set on the inn.

“Some fuckin’ fella,” he grumbled, ivory face red with anger.

You nodded slowly and walked back to the soap water bucket, picking up the forgotten whiskey glass and shaking it off before drying it with a rag. You pursed your lips and tried to forget how his suntanned hands had dwarfed the glass, and tried to wipe away the memory of them digging into the meat of your thighs as he slurped up your juices with a deep moan. Despite your best efforts, they didn’t fade away, and neither did a smudge on the glass.

Everything in this town was filthy, you figured, shoving the glass to the very back of the cupboard so it could be forgotten. Even the drifters that passed through were coated in grime.

The brown-eyed man was lucky your boss needed business, because the look Mr. Daniels gave him when he walked into the saloon the next evening could scorch anything within ten miles. He skulked through the doors at dusk, eyeing up the loud crowd before making a path to where you stood pouring out four shots of whiskey. Of course you’d instantly noticed him—you’d felt the air become charged as if it were about to storm as soon as he’d arrived. The men you served paid you with paper bills and winks, knocking back the shots as you walked over to where the man stood. Without a word, you turned and grabbed a glass; you didn’t need to ask what he or any other man in a hat wanted to drink tonight. As you avoided his eyes, he stared you down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a golden hand already pushing coins and a paper bill your way as the amber liquid gurgled into the glass.

You finished and gave him a practiced smile, scooping the money into your hand as he told you to keep the change yet again. The bottle was nearly empty, but you still placed it back on the shelf before walking to the register. You avoided looking in his direction at all costs; the most you allowed yourself to see was the brim of his hat and the poncho fabric that fell over his left arm. Instead, you gave your best performance to the other patrons—chatting with the town regulars and smiling at the men passing through—and got caught up in the large crowd, the early purple of the night still settling over town.

You heard a few raps on the wood above the chatter and lively piano. When you looked up at the man, you choked on your breath.

“Long time, no see, sweet thing,” he drawled, a cigarillo in the corner of his leering mouth. Blue eyes pierced you and his fair cheeks were tinted with a whiskey-induced blush.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your plain black skirt. “Can I get you somethin’?”

“Other than your ass in my bed? Whiskey.”

You brushed off the lewd remark, thankful there was a clean glass and whiskey on the bartender’s counter you’d must’ve forgotten to put back earlier. John, your old beau, kept his icy gaze fixed on you and puffed smoke to the side. Blond hair coated his head underneath the beige high-crowned hat, and you fought back a wince at remembering the times you shared with him. You told him the cost and he made a slow show of placing the money in your waiting hand, pressing his palm against your fingers and closing them around the money. You guessed you did a poor job of hiding a shudder, because he gave you a mirthful chuckle.

“What, sugar? You missin’ the way I’d fuck ya?”

You didn’t acknowledge his vulgar comment. You’d never been spoken to like that, even from the drunkest of men. It was just understood that men didn’t curse in conversation with ladies; even the gnarliest and dirtiest of them knew that. You could smell the liquor on John’s breath and had no interest in indulging his drunken idiocy. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved the money in your waist apron’s pocket, turned to the left and walked a few steps down the bar, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted a new patron. The brown-eyed man still stood where you’d served him, and you caught him pulling the cloth covering his face back with pinched fingers as his other hand lifted his almost-empty glass.

After you’d finished serving a gray-mustached man, thanking him for the tip as he walked away, your red-faced old flame slapped his palms against the wood and leaned into your space, blue eyes hazy.

“I was talkin’ to you,” he hissed. “An’ I ain’t done yet.”

Your heart sped up and you gulped, your mouth dry and body cold. He’d only been like this with you once before—when you’d ended things with him back in your old town the day before you left. It was a cruel twist of fate that he happened to be passing through your new town a few years later. He obviously hadn’t forgotten about you, much to your dismay.

“Is there a problem here?”

The brown-eyed man was looming behind John, his eyes narrowed. You hadn’t even noticed him move; he was like a shadow. John turned his head over his shoulder, keeping his hands planted on the counter as he eyed the man up. He scoffed and curled his fingers under his palms.

“Ain’t your business, saddle bum,” he snarled.

The man slowly stepped forward and came to stand in front of John, sweeping the front of his poncho over his right shoulder. Your eyes widened when you saw his chestnut-colored leather belt, the holster heavy with a pistol.

“It is now.”

John’s head swiveled back to you, his face smug and eyes cloudy. “I don’ remember talkin’ ‘bout this fella. Do you, sugar?”

You didn’t respond, opting to look over his shoulder and watch as the man turned John around by his shoulder. He pushed John against the edge of the counter, chestnut eyes fiery. From where you stood, it was hard to tell if he was using more force now than he had yesterday with Mr. Daniels; your gut told you he was. Something was different tonight, and it wasn’t the whiskey.

“Keep talkin’ and see what happens,” the man threatened, his voice low.

John laughed and shook his head. “What, did’ya have this soiled dove?” he asked loudly, drawing the attention of those who hadn’t noticed the stranger’s physical threat.

The derogatory term made you gasp and take a step back, your skin hot under your off-shoulder blouse. The man’s eyes flicked over to you for only a second before squinting at John again. He shook his head, his beige cloth covering shifting slightly with the movement.

“Don’t do it,” the brown-eyed man warned.

You could barely see John toss the butt of his cigarillo on the floor, but you did see his head turn to the right and heard him spit. The people around them had moved back and gone silent, turning their backs to avoid being dragged into a fight that didn’t concern them. You didn’t blame them—you wouldn’t want to be in the path of this desert storm either.

There was a low growl and then the poncho-clad man was dragging John across the floor to the doors, tossing him out of them. There was a heavy thud when his body hit the ground, and you watched the man push the doors open and tilt his head down to look at the ground, presumably where the drunkard still sat. His hands gripped the tops of the doors, his stance wide and menacing. He shook his head, and you fought your better judgment, running to the end of the bar at the windows and then pushing through the patrons. They let you pass and then you were standing behind the cowboy at the doors, your blood cold but skin hot at the same time.

Night had fallen, and the two yellow lanterns mounted outside the saloon cast a weak glow on the porch. John was scrambling to his feet and backing away, abandoning his hat and stumbling down the two wooden steps, almost falling on the dirt road. The man looked back at you; the side of his face visible to you darkened from the lack of light. You could only see the whites of his eyes; for once, he wasn’t squinting. Your breaths were shallow, and you pulled at your fingers.

“This bum bothering you, ma’am?” His voice was softer now, the edges smoothed, so unlike the threatening tones you’d heard only moments prior.

You swallowed thickly, but you caught John starting to rush at the stranger and you shouted, “Look out!” instead.

He wasted no time, immediately taking a step forward out of the doorway and planting his back foot before throwing a punch, his fist connecting with the bone of John’s nose. A sickening crack elicited a cry from you and a few of the other saloon girls that had seen or heard it. John dropped to the wooden porch again with a howl.

You cautiously pushed the doors open and let them hit you on your way out. A sick pleasure filled your chest when the man kicked John down to the dirt road, his spurs jingling.

“Go to the inn and leave her alone,” he enunciated. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His voice and words were clearer than you’d ever heard them before. A part of you thought you heard something protective underscoring his firm warning, but it was just a delusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with you; the man clearly just didn’t want to have a scrap with John. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it—he was obviously capable if he was a bounty hunter—but because he didn’t want to waste his time with it.

There was a dark, sardonic laugh. “Oh, she got you real good, didn’ she?”

You stiffened, covering your quivering lips with a hand, and the pair of brown eyes met your wide ones. His targeted vulgarity was starting to get to you, and it was becoming hard to hide. You felt embarrassed to be tearing up in front of the mysterious man, but you heard a sharp exhale as his eyes searched yours, the blast of air disturbing the cloth on his face. It was as if he was looking at you for permission, awaiting your orders and at your command—your own personal soldier, a bounty hunter tied only to you and the open land ahead of him.

“I don’ blame ya,” John sneered. “Best whore I ever had.”

Silence fell across the crowd; any lingering conversations had gone cold after that. You choked back a cry, your eyes flitting between John rising to his feet and the hunter in front of you. You noticed his fists clench before he finally took his eyes off you and stormed down into the street. He cut off the drunken cackles that filled the air with a swift punch, and you could barely see his knuckles connect with John’s jaw. He stayed upright this time and tried to swing at the man, but John’s sloppy form left him open to a punch in the gut that knocked him a foot backward. You stepped further out onto the porch, the sun-bleached wood creaking underneath your feet as you watched the stranger give John another kick before bending over to yank him up by the collar with both of his hands.

“You say one more goddamn word and I’m sendin’ you into that desert and tossin’ your canteen,” he seethed between gritted teeth.

John’s eyes landed on you, and he laughed. “That slut ain’ wor—”

He was cut off with a growl and a punch, falling to the ground. John was limp and unresponsive when the stranger nudged him with the toe of his boot. The man spat on him, then turned around to face the stunned crowd. Tears were streaming down your face, both of your hands over your nose and mouth.

“Which horse is his?” he asked, his voice deep and loud.

Only a few seconds later, he nodded; someone must’ve pointed it out. You watched him stalk over to a brown horse on his right, rifling through John’s belongings and pocketing cash and valuables he found. The man found his canteen and tossed it to the ground, then walked back over to John and dragged him to the horse. He heaved John up on his shoulder and tossed him over the saddle, then took the reins off the horse to loosely tie John’s feet together and then lead it under the horse’s belly to bind his hands together, making sure to keep the makeshift restraint taut. Finally, he led the horse to the right and out of sight; there was a shout and a whinny, then the frantic sound of hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.

The man came back into view as he approached the saloon again. The only sound filling the nighttime air was the jangling of his spurs and your sniffs as you calmed down. He made his way up to the porch, standing in front of you, his poncho still over his shoulder and revealing his brown leather vest and faded denim shirt. His eyes looked you over, lingering on your wet cheeks.

He had just sent a drunk, unconscious man into the desert without water on a spooked horse at night. It was one of the cruelest things a man could do. And yet, here he was, his eyes soft under a furrowed brow. The yellow lamplight showed that the storms in his eyes had settled, but his forehead would bear the evidence of it in deepened lines.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The term of endearment didn’t make you squirm. Coupled with the gentle, low rumble of his voice, it made you feel…comfortable. “Comfortable” certainly wasn’t something you should feel around a man like him, and yet, you found yourself wanting to fall into his chest and let his arms support you and his warm hands sink into your flesh.

But all you could do right now was nod and wipe the backs of your hands over your wet cheeks. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m rattled, but I’ll live.”

You paused, looking down and then meeting his strangely soft eyes again. You wished you could see the rest of his face and not just imagine it based on how it had felt between your legs.

“Thanks,” you said meekly. You shakily exhaled and repeated yourself. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”

You swore you saw a smile creasing the corners of his eyes at the nickname. He waved off your thanks, tipped the black brim of his hat, and turned around to walk over to the inn. The shadow slunk back into the night.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your boss yelled and dispersed the crowd, then called your name. Mr. Daniels stood in front of you, his face worried as he looked you over, thick fingers gripping your biceps. The concerned and protective father inside of him was taking over, and you found it to be quite comforting and nice; you never complained when he treated you like one of his daughters. He asked you a dozen questions at once but trailed off after noticing your voice waver and bottom lip quiver. Mr. Daniels guided you to the stairs in the back of the saloon and told you to take the rest of the night off despite your protests—he’d hear none of it.

All you could think of as you lay in bed curled up under your thin blankets was the mysterious, brown-eyed stranger. How could a man so violent have such kind eyes? It just wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered close and you drifted to sleep, the lively chatter of the saloon below a background to the memories of the stranger’s dulcet voice.

You thought that would be the last of Brown Eyes. You thought he’d be gone without a trace, a shadow haunting conversations for a while, another dusty drifter wandering the desert as if he were Moses. Just another man as wild as the terrain he traversed. You hadn’t expected to see him again unless it was in your dreams. He’d kick up dust there, then vanish with it when you opened your eyes.

You really, truly thought his stunt last night would be the last one he performed in this town, and part of you wished it had been when he threw his shadow into the saloon the next afternoon, the sun at his back.

He leisurely strolled over to a table nestled in the back-right corner of the saloon. Three men sitting around its circular wood top playing cards. The jangle of his spurs accompanying each cocksure step of his boots alerted them to his approach, the decorative threads on the edge of his poncho fluttering gently. Finally, Brown Eyes stood with his back to you at the right side of one of the men, his black hat tilting slightly to look down at him. The other two men leaned forward and glanced at each other.

You took a few steps to the right and angled your head a bit to see what was going on. You caught the two men slowly placing their cards on the table and trailing their hands to the edge of the circular table. The man looking up at Brown Eyes was red in the face and spoke quietly enough for his words to slip underneath other conversations in the saloon and go undetected by your ears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you watched the interaction from afar, then raised when the cowboy’s poncho flew over his shoulder.

“Christ almighty,” you murmured as his hand twitched at his thigh.

You looked over to the left at Mr. Daniels, and he gave you a sideways glance. He and the regular in front of him were focused on the altercation; a few of the patrons in the bustling afternoon crowd had noticed as well. Despite the attention, you knew that nobody would intervene. This wasn’t anyone’s business except for the men in the corner.

As you watched one of the seated men reach for his pistol, you swore under your breath. Out of instinct, you dropped to your feet, crouching behind the bar just as the sound of gunshots pierced the air. The sharp blasts made you cover your ears, and then they suddenly stopped. Instead, a wounded groan filled the air, then the crack of a fist against bone and the thump of a body hitting the wooden floor to punctuate the statement. There was a curt jingle of spurs and an oof, signals of a sharp kick.

“Alive or dead, your choice,” a familiar gravelly voice stated.

It was flat and indifferent, so unlike the man who had come to your aid and who had cleaned you up after ruining you with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Yes, he’d been violent last night, but there was something gentle in his eyes hidden within their storm clouds. It almost made your heart ache, but then you remembered what he’d done to Mr. Daniels and how he’d sentenced a man to death without a second thought. You remembered who Brown Eyes was at his core, and the warm ache in your chest withered away.

“You son of a bitch!” A man yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ strangle you!”

A mirthful chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”

There was shuffling, a shout, a gunshot, then silence. The bounty killer had won again.

When your boss stood, you followed suit, your heart racing. You knew that the customers you served weren’t all honest people with honest jobs. Hell, it was naïve to think that about anyone you met out on the frontier. You’d just never experienced a gunfight inside the saloon. You’d seen a few unfold on the dusty main road splitting the town in half, but no bullets had ever blown holes through the saloon’s grimy windows; the sharp smell of gunpowder had never tainted its air. You took a few deep breaths and tried to steady your shaking hands. Even after all these years out west, you still had wild experiences waiting to shock you.

Brown Eyes holstered his revolver with a flourish, then walked to the bar.

“Here, for the trouble.” He placed a few bills and some coins down in front of a glaring Mr. Daniels, then tipped his hat at you. “Apologies, miss.”

He walked back over to the dead man then crouched down and lifted the body over his left shoulder. You heard him mumble under his breath and turn towards the doors to leave. You caught his eyes and swallowed when you saw how dark they were under his hat’s black brim. He silently left the saloon, the doors swinging and clacking behind him. All that remained were two dead men splayed out in their chairs, arms out and hats tipped back.

You looked at Mr. Daniels. He shook his head and sighed.

“And that, my dear, is why God destined some men to be carpenters.”

He wiped off his hands with a frayed cloth and tossed it on the counter. Mr. Daniels shuffled behind you and down the bar with a huff as the patrons’ chatter began again. He quickly walked to the saloon doors and gave them a sharp push, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.

“’M leavin’ at dawn t’morrow,” Brown Eyes said into your cunt.

A hot lick of his tongue made your hips buck. He swiped it side to side over your clit as he planted his hands on your hips and forced them into the mattress. You clawed at the sheets underneath you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Another obscene slurp and moan from the bounty hunter sent you reeling and added to the growing tension in your belly. You forced yourself up to recline on your forearms, looking down at the hatless man hungrily eating you out as if it were his first meal in weeks.

You choked out a breath when the tip of his tongue swirled itself around your hole and then pushed inside of it. Lusty eyes met yours, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your spit and slick-drenched center. He held your gaze and sucked on the hardened nub, squeezing the meat of your hips when you moaned.

“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, gently sucking again and chuckling at your gasp.

You nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes, I do, Brown Eyes,” you panted, the muscles in your gut tightening when he groaned at the nickname, your legs starting to tense. “I really, really do.”

When you closed your eyes and let your head fall back with a whine, he shook his head and nipped at the sensitive bud, making you jump and look back down at him. He was staring up at you, something menacing in his eyes. It made your walls flutter, it thrilled you, it made your heart race even more. He was reminding you that even though he was serving you, he was still in control—he was always in control, no matter where he was.

He licked a slow, broad stripe up your cunt, then pulled back. You groaned in frustration at the cruel loss of contact, the heat and tension within you backing away from the glorious peak he’d gotten so close to pushing them over.

“You’re so mean,” you whined.

You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth. “You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.”

His room at the inn had a few lamps to combat the dark desert night, but only one was lit. The lamp on the bedside table to his right cast a little light on him, but the curve of your thigh and the bend of your knee had shrouded him in black shadows while he knelt on the floor and ravished you with his tongue. Now that your legs had dropped to rest and bend over the edge of the mattress, you could see the corners of his brown eyes creased with a smile that he hid behind your dripping cunt. He dipped one thick finger inside of you and snickered when you gasped and startled. Your pussy was still throbbing and aching for release, and it wouldn’t stop until he pushed you over that heavenly edge.

Warm hands massaged your flesh and trailed down to grip the underside of your thighs. His fingers dug in and lifted them a little bit so he could turn his head and press wet kisses on your inner thighs. You felt the ridge of his nose as his lips worked. Delicate eyelashes fluttered against tan cheeks. Brown Eyes gave you one last kiss and a playful nip that made you giggle.

“See, darlin’?” he murmured into your sensitive skin, opening his eyes again. “I can be nice.”

When you raised your eyebrow, he dramatically rolled his eyes. He turned around and stood up with a grunt that made you bite back a chuckle. Yellow light flickered on his bare back and revealed a few scarred splotches; you’d convinced him to take off his shirt and vest earlier, and now it was time for the rest. You swung up to sit on your knees as Brown Eyes hummed and took off his dark denim pants and underdrawers in one motion.

He walked over to the chair next to a short dresser beside the door, meticulously folding the clothing and setting it underneath his folded shirt. His poncho and vest were draped over the back of the tiny chair, his hat resting on top of the shirt, a beige cloth peeking out beneath it. Dusty brown boots waited on the floor. The brown leather holster weighed down the poncho. A rifle leaned against the dresser—“A Winchester 73, m’favorite”—to finish the cowboy’s closet.

Brown Eyes cleared his throat and ran a large hand over the back of his head, fingers teasing his soft brown curls. He turned around to face you, striding over, his thick cock hard and bouncing with each step. It nearly distracted you from his face—his bare face, the handsome one he’d been hiding all this time.

He lifted your chin with two fingers and you nearly melted into the mattress. Your eyes wandered all over his features, greedy for every detail. You were finally seeing the curved nose you’d felt against your thighs and folds. A neat mustache lay above the pink lips that had brought you to shambles. Scruff lined the jaw you’d stolen a look at a few days ago and crept up his cheeks. You noticed a bare patch in the scruff to the right of his chin, and your eyes traced the thin canyons on his forehead left behind from years of erosion and desert sun.

“My mama told me it’s rude to stare,” Brown Eyes chastised, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.

“I didn’t think it was rude to stare at art,” you quipped back, leaning forward a bit more when he brushed his thumb over your lips and massaged one of your breasts in his hand.

Your heart sped up when he bent down, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his steady exhales heat the air you inhaled through parted lips, his handsome face stealing every bit of sense from your head and making you weak.

He clicked his tongue. “She also told me lyin’ is bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Why would I lie to someone like you? I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what you can do, Brown Eyes.”

You trailed off, biting your lip when he sharply inhaled. Damn, he sure loved when you called him that. He hooked his thumb into the corner of your mouth, his lust-blown eyes watching it as he swept it across your lower lip and your cunt ached with want.

“You’re right, darlin’,” he acquiesced. “Didn’ take you for the lyin’ type anyway.”

He gave you a soft smile you didn’t think bounty killers were capable of and you simpered. Brown Eyes pinched your chin before sitting next to you and laying back, pumping his cock in his fist. You adjusted yourself so you could trail your hands across his hot skin, explore its ridges and softness, soak in its warmth. Your hands graced across it until they cupped his jaw, startling him with a sensation he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

You bent down with half-lidded eyes and gently parted lips. Chestnut eyes locked with yours right before you crashed your lips into his and let one of your hands reach and grasp his cock. The interruption made him moan into your mouth, the sound desperate and low in his throat. You shared a whine with Brown Eyes when his right hand forced itself between your thighs and shuddered when his fingertips stroked up and down the seam of your folds. He smiled against your lips when you began rolling your hips to steal more of his scalding touch.

He pulled back from your lips and whispered, “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Brown Eyes grinned at you—this man was full of surprises tonight—and turned himself to lay in the center of the mattress. You moved and knelt between his slightly spread legs, your feet touching the wooden footboard as you stared down at him. He was biting his lip and let them part when you massaged your tits before bending over, making sure to arch your back, your lips hovering near the fat head of his cock. You looked back up at him coquettishly—you were in control now, teasing him with hot exhales and smiling after he gave you a few needy groans.

When you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, you felt him tug the sheets with a hiss. A lick from the base to the tip made him swear; he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. You planted your hands on his hips and held his gaze for a few more seconds before closing your eyes and wrapping your lips around him, slowly bobbing up and down, working lower and lower as you went. Your brow furrowed, spit starting to dribble down your chin, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him throw his head back and curse.

“Fuck, baby, god damn,” Brown Eyes rasped, groaning when you pressed your tongue against him as you slid back up again before twisting your head back down, just over halfway down his throbbing length.

He choked when you took every inch of him, your spit-covered lips pressing against the curls at the base. You could only hold it for a moment—his girth and length pushed you to the limit—and then you bobbed back up and swirled your tongue around the bulging head before releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at you as you licked up a few beads of liquid leaking from his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft before sucking him back into your mouth, wildly working your tongue around the head as you stroked. Your pussy throbbed when he whined, one of his hands coming to clasp your forearm as you snaked your free hand up his torso, splaying your fingers out for stability.

He’d grown even harder somehow, and your hand trailed down to give his balls a quick, light squeeze, eliciting an even louder whine; you hoped that nobody occupied the room next to his. Your hand went back to work his shaft, but he tugged your forearm and his other hand held your cheek. You looked up at him and slowly let his cock fall out of your mouth, watching his eyes scrunch closed and eyebrows knit together, his plush pink lips falling open. His chestnut eyes opened again as you straddled his torso, your ass bumping against the leaking length, making him hiss and smile.

“Baby, if you kept that up, I would’a come down your throat.” He panted and shook his head. “But I wanna see you painted in it.”

You giggled when his large palms clapped on your cheeks, grabbing the meat of them and spreading them.

“Go ‘head, darlin’,” he urged. “Ride this cowboy’s cock.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice,” you chuckled, giving him a kiss before sitting back on your knees.

You started to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, lips parting as his fat head notched inside of your slick and needy hole, already splitting you open. His hands traveled up the curve of your ass and over your hips to rest on your thighs, low groans coaxing you further down. You planted your hands next to his ears and stared into his eyes as you slammed your ass against him, hissing as he filled you to the brim. His eyes squeezed shut and he whined, hands moving back to your ass.

“You take me so well, darlin’, fuck,” he growled. His eyes bore deep into yours, and he gently squeezed your cheeks. “Now, c’mon, baby girl. Move those gorgeous hips.”

You slowly rolled your hips back a few times, feeling your ass shake and letting your cunt adjust to his size. When you started to speed up, the man nodded and grunted along with your pants. The tension inside of you had returned with a vengeance, your walls already fluttering after only a few minutes of riding him. You picked up the pace and added another movement, sliding up and down, hammering back down with a filthy, wet sound. You threw your head back and shifted to rest on your knees, sinking down to the base and holding his gaze as he groaned. You began massaging your breasts and circled your hips, remaining fully seated on his cock.

“F-fuck, feels amazing, Brown Eyes,” you moaned, your index and middle fingers landing on your clit and rubbing small circles around it.

You lifted your head to look at him when he swatted your fingers away. Brown Eyes gave you a sly smile. “Allow me, darlin’. You keep on ridin’, and don’ stop ‘til I say so.”

You nodded and then moaned when he pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub. You fell forward and planted your hands next to his ears again, your face twisted in ecstasy as he pushed you to the peak he’d denied you earlier. You kept pounding your ass back, picking up the pace when his pants began to grow louder, riding towards his own climax along with you.

“Oh, fuck—fuck—Brown Eyes, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, something white hot threatening to scorch you from the inside out.

“Do it, darlin’, come for me,” he growled, his thumb working your clit frantically as the roll of your hips became erratic. “Clench my cock, soak me—”

You cut off his encouragement with a cry of pleasure, your entire body shaking and burning, your cunt pulsing around him and drenching him in your juices. You slumped forward to rest on your forearms, and he went to work, thrusting his hips up into you, grunting and growling into your ear. You stared at him, your head heavy as you basked in the afterglow of your white-hot climax. When you sloppily kissed his lips, spit still wet on your chin, Brown Eyes growled and pushed you onto your back, bending your sweaty legs and forcing your knees towards your ears as much as they could. You whimpered when he fucked into you with feral grunts and growls, your slick-coated walls letting the head of him push deep inside of you. The force was pushing you towards the footboard, and he placed his large hand on the top of your head to shield you from it and hold you in place for his cock.

“Fuck—your pussy feels fuckin’ incredible,” he opened his eyes, and there was a familiar dark storm brewing in them, his pupils blown as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace.

“Come on me,” you whispered, still drunk with pleasure, eyes brimming with tears from his brutal strokes. You reached your hand up and cupped his jaw with pleading eyes.

Your touch sent him over the edge, and he pulled out of you with a moan. You let your arms fall back and bend behind your head, watching him give his cock one final pump before thick ropes of his spend painted your body. You closed your eyes and smiled listening to his choked moans, then opened them again to see his head thrown back and cock throbbing as his body started to come down from his climax.

Brown Eyes stared back down at you and smiled, eyes trailing up your torso from your hips to your breasts. You blissfully sighed and smiled, and he flopped down at your right side with a huff. You looked over at him, his head propped up on his hand, his handsome face and body masked by a little darkness with the light behind his back.

“You look mighty lovely covered in my come, darlin’.” He gave you a gentle kiss and smiled against your lips. “Prettiest thing I ever seen.”

“Surely I can’t be prettier than a bunch of money in your hand for a bounty,” you half-teased.

He pulled back and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Your eyes fluttered close when his hand cupped your cheek—it was trembling against your skin—and you leaned into his warm touch.

“Darlin’,” he said sternly. You opened your eyes to meet his again, the storm in them suddenly gone. “Didn’ I tell you my first day here that I’d found somethin’ better than money?”

You furrowed your brow. “I..I think so,” you responded hesitantly.

“I know I did, darlin’,” he confirmed, brushing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “An’ didn’ I tell ya I’m not a liar?” You nodded and he pressed a kiss against your sweaty forehead, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re lovelier than any sunset I ever seen.”

The compliment made you shyly smile and giggle, but it quickly faded as you stared into his eyes. A question weighed on your chest, and you worried your lip between your teeth. You’d covered it up and hid it, and now you couldn’t hold it back any longer—especially since he was leaving town tomorrow.

“Brown Eyes, will you ever come back?” you asked meekly. You quickly added, “Here, I mean. To the town. Not to me.” Your skin warmed with embarrassment.

He hesitated, glancing at the sheets before looking back into your eyes. “Well, you want me to?”

Did you really want him to, even after all he’d done since he stormed into town and held it—and you—captive in his fury? The man with a revolver on his hip and a Winchester 73 and a belt of bullets? The one who’d sent John to his death, who’d threatened Mr. Daniels, who’d killed three men without blinking? Did you really want the bounty killer to return and shroud you in his stormy shadow again?

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want that.”

He smiled against your lips as he kissed you, and you wondered if he ever smiled after killing a bounty as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

masterlist a/n: whew! thank you for reading all of this! it really ran away from me. please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs !!

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@bbyanarchist @threeheadedlamb @dindjarinsmut @djarinslove @saradika @tortor-mcgee @sofasoap @hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy @totallynotastanacc @elinedjarin @maddiedrmr @kaqua @fairy-tale-writer @charlottetownwaffles, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519 @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #thank you for reading this if you made it through #it was a beast to write but I loved it #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin fic #mando x reader #mando x you #din x reader #din djarin x f!reader #cowboy din #old west au #the mandalorian #my fic #din x you #din djarin smut

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gurugirl · 6 months

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Sneaky for part 3 of unicorn? I'm so excited guru you don't understand!

I'm so glad you're excited!!! I'm just over 4800 words into part 3 now. I'll give you a little something below the cut :) Thank you!!

I would give you guys more but there's so much going on in this part that some bits would just give too much away. Also this is raw from my drafts and not edited or proofread so the final version might look a little different. xoxo

Part 1 | Part 2

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game of darts which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The guy asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked back to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn to start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take some lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

Tags (for The Unicorn): @littlenatilda @harryspirate @itsmytimetoodream @princessaxoo @summertime-pills @egirlshit @chesthairrry @idontknowbi @f1n3l1n3 @tpwk-sophie @justtilly @fictionalmensblog @harrrystyles5 @gem1712

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glytrp · 1 month

Text

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Touya Todoroki: Stalking You

concept piece

warning: adult themes, delusional behavior, explicit stalking, sexual content. (1.2k)

Dabi hated being sober.

It was another night at the bar with his hand glued to a whiskey glass. It must have been midnight when he realized he was just about out of cash to spend on another drink. The bartender had cut him off about fifteen minutes ago, so even if he’d tried to chat her up into giving him another, he wasn’t interested in getting arrested just for the sake of getting drunk.

And he was drunk. He held his liquor pretty well, so he sat in peace.

A few stools away, he spotted a man. And beside him, a pretty piece of eye candy. You.

He’s seen you come in before. It wasn’t the first time you were accompanied by that man, but it was the first time Dabi felt so fucking heated about it.

Dabi only even came to this hole in the wall because he knew you’d show up. Like clockwork. Every Friday night. Seeing you giggling and letting him whisper in your ear was irritating to watch though. But he stayed calm. His hands may have begun to light up, but didn’t move from his seat.

With sharp eyes, Dabi watched as the man slid a hand down your thigh. And he watched how you had straightened up, a bashful expression growing on your face at the touch.

Then, the man was closing his tab and leading you out.

Dabi followed.

This was routine, truthfully. Dabi knew where you lived, where you went to work, where you went to see your friends. He knew your name, and all your friends' names, and what you liked in bed. Perhaps that was the most important of all the information he’s gathered about you.

The man escorted you to his car, and Dabi climbed into his own, avoiding being too close as the two of you drove off together.

At some point, you arrived at your apartment. Dabi parked further away to avoid being seen. Not that it mattered. You were meant to be his.

The rest of the night consisted of him perched outside your building, staring up at your window to see your shadows behind the curtain. Well, clearly you must have wanted him to see. Clearly, the man wasn’t satisfying you. Dabi was more than happy to show you what real sex was. But he’d have to warm you up to that first.

When several weeks went on, Dabi grew restless. Rather than the bar, Dabi followed you to a bookstore one night. It wasn’t unusual. You’ve been there before, and liked browsing and sometimes buying.

Dabi wasn’t really too concerned with the books though. No. The skirt you had on was too fucking short, just how he liked. Seeing you card through some novel by a shelf had Dabi testing the waters.

With a gentle hand, Dabi let his fingers brush over your face as he slipped past you. Your neck snapped to look at him, but he hadn’t wanted to reveal himself just yet. So he kept his head turned, pretending to be interested in the book that sat high on the shelves above you.

“Hello.” You spoke, and that was all the invitation Dabi needed.

He finally allowed you a chance to look, turning his head properly.

You gasped quietly, “Your face.”

Dabi licked his lip.

“Oh yea? What about it?” He quizzed, his eyes sliding up your form.

You gulped and shook your head, “Nothing.”

Damn right.

Dabi gently took the novel from your hand and set it back in between two books, his eyes glancing over to your own. You had yet to budge from your spot, which Dabi found amusing.

“Do I know you?” You asked curiously.

Dabi’s lip quirked upward, leaning close. Your head hit the back of the wooden beam, eyes wide, and Dabi gripped your chin to tilt your head up.

“You will.” He answered, and you visibly shivered as his hand slid down to grasp your throat. While you did squirm, you made no indication of wanting to escape. Dabi theorized you either recognized him from the news or otherwise. If it was from the news, then you must have been a bigger whore than he thought.

When he stuck his knee between your legs, the little squeak you let out was fucking erotic, and if Dabi had half a mind, he would have just pinned you down and his his way with you. “Not here.” You whined, and the pleaful tone to your voice was perhaps the only thing that convinced him into having some pity on you.

Dabi released your neck but soon replaced his touch to the small of your back, inclining you to walk forward.

And you were such a good girl about it too. Whenever you were too slow, he’d heat his palms, just a tad. That seemed to put them urgency in you, taking him toward your car. The lot was empty, and Dabi didn’t feel like waiting an entire drive to your house to get what he wanted. So the second you opened your mouth, Dabi fixed a hand to the nape of your neck and bent you over the hood of the car.

“Wait!”

Dabi hummed, slotting himself between your legs to press his erection to your ass.

“For?” He wondered, and you adjusted your head so your cheek was pressed to one side of the hood of the vehicle.

“This is embarrassing.” You mumbled, and Dabi had to resist the urge to laugh.

Your pathetic attempts were falling to deaf ears, didn’t you know that?

“And this ain’t embarrassing, doll?” Dabi toyed at the thin material of your panties, your skirt covering fucking nothing to begin with.

After that, Dabi didn’t really wait for permission. If you hadn’t wanted it, you wouldn’t have walked around dressed like a tease. And you certainly wouldn’t have taken him straight to your car.

You took it pretty well, and Dabi was nice enough to cover your mouth when you began to scream too loud. He blew his load at some point when your cunt began fluttering around him. It must have been your second orgasm, so he was more than happy to overstimulate you as a reward.

Pulling out felt awful. If he could have, he would have gone for round two. But you were sweating and shaking and had tears coming down your cheeks. Rolling his eyes, Dabi helped you to stand up straight and let you lean your weight on him as he pulled your skirt back down.

When you mumbled something into the crook of his neck, Dabi had to nudge you.

Then, you repeated it louder, “Getting sleepy.”

So Dabi drove you home, stealing the keys from your purse. You’d made some incoherent comment about how he’d known where you lived, but when he didn’t answer, you didn’t repeat yourself.

It was the first time he’s been inside your apartment at the same time as you, and you were nice enough to offer him some tea or a shower. He declined both.

But when you offered for him to stay the night, Dabi couldn’t refuse.

After all, you were his, and you’d best get used to it. That was his bed as much as it was yours. And you’d be sharing it every night, like the good girl that you were.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi #dabi smut #touya smut #touya x reader

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rebeliz7 · 10 months

Text

THEAT AT FIRST SIGHT

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: “I can make someone disappear on my own, thank you.”

Word Count: 1946

...

Tonight she orders a martini.

She’s wearing the kind of outfit that doesn’t really go unnoticed, but it’s still lowkey. A black casual dress, knee high black boots and a scarlet leather jacket. Simple. Hot.

Her hair is down and wavy, in a messy but still put together kind of way. Light make-up and she looks naturally tired, as if she just got out of a very large day at the office.

“Long day?” You casually ask, as you prepare her chosen drink.

“Long day.” She agrees, as you pour her drink and slide it towards her.

She smiles, her green eyes sparkling when she murmurs a soft thank you. You grip the edge of the wooden counter, trying to not make it obvious how incredibly attracted you’ve become to her.

You clear your throat, hellbent on going back to work.

She’s been coming to the bar for weeks now, always sits at the same stool and orders a different drink every night while wearing outfits that look ridiculously good on her.

You know who she is, everyone does, but no one bothers her here and you guess that’s why she continues to come.

“Nothing that a martini can’t help with, I hope.” You say conversationally as you pick up a few empty glasses from the bar, and she smiles that soft smile of hers that continues to make you feel like happiness might be within your reach.

“It doesn’t really do anything for me.” She shrugs and when you look at her, an eyebrow raised in a silent question she points at her drink and makes a show of downing it in one go.

“No.” You softly lament, mostly to not let that little show affect you in any way, but also because you find that incredibly unfortunate. “That’s a shame. No alcohol, ever?”

“I do get slightly tipsy with tequila, but only slightly.” She tells you with a proud smile that you instantly love. She’s actually proud of her inability to get drunk.

“Then maybe next time I’ll make you a margarita.” You offer and she blushes a delicate pink, her eyes sparkle again as she looks down to her now empty drink and back up to you.

“I have no plans for the rest of the evening.” She says and you become smitten by the way her eyes look at you expecting an answer.

She’s so beautiful and you’re once again distracted by the soft twist of her lips.

“Okay, then.” You accept and when you turn around to make her a margarita you can feel her eyes on you all the while.

This is a safe place for her, you think, and you’re not sure if you want to take that away from her if you’re reading way too much into her visits.

But maybe, and only maybe, she likes you back. Maybe she likes you just as much as whatever peace this old bar provides her with.

“Here you go.” You tell her as you slide another drink towards her and you reach down to grab a beer for yourself. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She touches her glass softly with your bottle and then you both drink. You watch her take two tentative zips and then set her glass down. “It’s not bad.”

“Of course not. I made it.” You shrug lightly and she laughs, and you didn’t know that you could find this girl any more attractive until this second, but here you are liking her dorky laughter just as much.

“I’ve been wondering.” She says next and your heart skips a beat at the sudden nervous energy that she seems to emanate. “For a couple of weeks now, actually.”

You nod, to encourage her to keep going but she’s blushing again and now you think that you know exactly where she’s going with this. Taking pity on her absolute adorableness you round the bar and come to stand right beside her.

The bar is almost empty now, just two regulars on the back tables and a bashful Avenger right in front of you.

“I would like to take you out.” You tell her and she covers her mouth with her hand, she’s blushing a deep crimson now.

“That’s not fair.” She says, embarrased and you smile as you take her hand.

“Why?” You ask as she intertwines your fingers together, as if it were normal, as if she’s been doing that for months, as if this is exactly where you were meant to be.

“I was trying to ask you out and you made it look so effortless and I...” she trails off, and you caress her chin with your thumb.

“It’s taken me weeks to ask you that.” You tell her and when she smiles you feel a tug on your chest. “It’s not effortless.”

“No.” She says, her hand now on your forearm, gripping as she pulls you a little closer. “It’s not.”

Her lips are full and warm, and she tastes like salt and tequila. You kiss her slowly, taking your time, imprinting this moment in your memory.

Her hands are on your nape, her thumbs pressing just underneath your earlobes as you press yourself against her in return, sneaking your hands under her jacket and gripping her waist through the thin material of her dress.

She gasps, and pulls herself even closer to you and when her lips part and yours fill in the gaps it feels like you fit. It makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you were made to kiss her lips, you were meant to find her.

“Cool bar.” Someone says right behind you, making you jump back at hearing the voice.

A guy sits on the stool next to Wanda’s and he’s nodding, an amused expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Sam.” Wanda says and you catch the irritation in her voice. “Sam is a friend.” She tells you, and you immediately stretch out your hand as you untangle yourself from Wanda’s body.

“Nice to meet you.” You shake his hand, noticing how he squeezes yours a little bit too tight before letting go. “I’m--”

“Oh, I know all about you.” He cuts you off, and you smile at him before moving behind the bar again.

So this is that kind of interaction then. Okay.

“What can I get you, Sam?” You ask him politely but your eyes are on Wanda and the pretty blush on her cheeks, and her smudged lipstick and you can’t wait until you can kiss her again.

“A beer, thank you.” He says rather loudly, and you think you might be blushing too.

“Make that two.” A woman says as she joins them and you recognize her immediately. Natasha Romanoff, in casual clothes, sits on the stool next to Sam and her eyes lock you in.

You’ve only ever seen her in videos and wearing her Avengers uniform. She’s the kind of woman that no one wants to piss off, you know that much.

“Please tell me there’s a bathroom in this place.” Another woman says as she rushes in behind her, and you haven’t seen her before but she’s obviously a friend of Wanda’s too because she takes her hand and drags her towards the bathrooms before neither one of you can utter a greeting.

You know you’re in a trap, but you also know that you have nothing to hide.

You get the superheros their beers, but when you look at them there is not a friendly trace in their eyes anymore.

You’re under no pretense here, you know who these people are and even though you never went digging into the Black Widow’s past on the internet like many others have, you still heard and read things here and there.

“Wanda seems to like you.” Sam says, attempting to be casual and you take a deep breath.

“I like her too.” You tell him sincerely.

“Do you?” Natasha Romanoff inquires and you meet her stare with foolish bravery.

“Am I being interrogated right now? It feels like I’m being interrogated.” You ask, but she doesn’t give you a verbal answer.

She does the exact thing that you’d expect from the deadliest assassin in the world to do when they’re trying to protect someone they care about.

She materializes a knife from -you don’t know where exactly- and holds it in front of her as if to study it, as you wonder where the hell did she have that thing and what she’s planning to do with it.

“Why’s that?” She replies casually, as if she didn’t just pull out a knife on you and you weren’t scared out of your mind.

“You like knives, then?” You ask back and she grins, and a shiver runs down your back because she might not be threatening you directly but that smile might just be the scariest thing you’ve ever seen.

“You have no idea.” She says and you gulp, just as Wanda finally returns.

“What are you guys doing?” She asks carefully, and when you blink you find that the knife is nowhere to be seen and Sam is smiling again.

“Nothing.” They both say in unison, making Wanda groan in response. Though she doesn’t look put off, maybe a little embarrassed by her friend but suddenly you don’t feel put off either anymore.

The truth is, Natasha Romanoff can threaten you all she wants if you can kiss Wanda again.

“Sam can’t sleep without the lights on and Natasha has a blanket that she can’t sleep without.” Wanda tells you, and both of her friends shriek in indignation. “We live together.”

“That’s... good to know.” You tell her, a bit hesitant but also amused by this turn of events.

And that's how you kissed her for the first time and met her friends -and roommates- all in the same night.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Remember when you guys tried to scare me off?” You ask your friends after dinner, while you’re settling in the living to watch a movie together.

“That was embarrassing.” Sam laughs.

“It was going well until this one decided to divulge our deepest secrets.” Natasha says, and you lean in to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek.

“You did scare me.” You confess and Natasha gives you a look, a look that says that she knows. “But there wasn’t a second where I thought that I’d ever back off.”

“Really?” Sam asks, already wiggling his eyebrows and a smile on his lips. He’s incapable of stopping his teasing.

“Really.” You answer and you kiss Wanda’s blushing cheek again. “Hear that, babe? Even then I was already thinking about fighting the Black Widow here for you if it came down to it.”

“Well.” Natasha says, and you catch on the tone of her voice immediately. You’ve known her for four months already after all. “Since I couldn’t finish that day, know that I can, and will make you disappear if you ever hurt Wanda here.”

“Natasha!” Wanda reprimands her, scandalized, but Natasha’s eyes stay on you and you nod at her. You get it.

“I’m just saying.” Natasha says, playing innocent, hands up in the air as she smirks at your direction.

“I can make someone disappear all on my own, thank you very much.” Your girlfriend declares, finishing her sentence, and your face must transform into the horror and actual fear that washes over you, because Sam and Natasha both erupt in loud laughter at that.

“We’re cool then.” You say and Wanda kisses you, sweet and short.

“We’re cool.” Natasha says while your girlfriend cuddles against you.

Date the strongest Avenger they said… you can’t believe this is your life.

...

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlett witch x reader #scarlet witch

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peterthepark · 2 years

Text

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠

series masterlist

word count: 4.6k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, blowjobs, making out, banter, dirty talk, alcohol/drinking, bars, hooking up, sexual innuendos, a blue-balling cliffhanger, more eventual smut!

summary: a guitarist. a bartender. one night. a kiss. maybe more.

There’s something quite intimate about bars. Eddie can’t truly place what it is exactly. It’s not the alcohol that’s for sure. Maybe. Fuck. He doesn’t know. He’s always been more keen to five-packs at home, none of this rum and coke frenetic bullshit.

Whatever. He supposes he can start somewhere.

Maybe it’s the comfort of blinking neon beer signs, the dim lighting and inexpensive drinks. The shabby, dated decor and unglamorous countertops with eclectic art pinned to wooden-board walls. Historic, timeless, raunchy.

Or maybe it’s the people who come and go, the rowdy locals who linger and observe, the ones who proudly share their stories amongst a bustling table, or the ones who silently recount theirs to a bottle of bourbon and a withering ashtray.

Maybe, Eddie thinks, that it has never been about the ambiance of bars, but the feelings that they give him. The pulsing adrenaline in his veins before a gig, pumped full of energy drinks and caffeine, notes of vodka resting on the tip of his tongue, the anxiety in the back of his mind prodding at him with doubts like, ‘Shit, what if I forget the lyrics?’ or on some occasions… ‘Did I even bring my fucking guitar?’

But that’s not the case tonight.

He’s fucking drenched in sweat, salty droplets beading off the ridge of his brow and getting lost in the frizzy ringlets of his untamed head of hair. There’s a rare, yet fleeting joy within him that he can’t contain. Boyish. Youthful. A wide grin falls upon his lips as he high-fives his loyal bandmates Jeff and Gareth, setting his beloved guitar onto a respective stand before he’s barrelling down the creaking steps of the small round stage with heavy boots.

Quick drink, he mouths at the boys over his shoulder (which usually meant don’t wait up for me), carefully whizzing his way past bumping shoulders and shot glasses bound to spill from how they’re raised haphazardly in the air.

Eddie slides easily onto one of the stools in front of the bar top, ornate rings rhythmically drumming against the counter. His leg is propped up on the rung, the other outstretched against the floor, thighs spread and wide while his eyes dart around for something specific.

Or rather, someone specific.

His face softens when you round the corner, towel slung over your shoulder as you tightly tie an apron around your waist to flaunt the pretty silhouette underneath your loose shirt. Eddie studies the way your charming lips turn upward as you talk to a group of regulars, your gestures animated despite having worked the entire day.

It isn’t till you look over that Eddie’s heart flies right up into his throat, knuckles near alabaster as his nails nervously dig into the heels of his palms once you lean up on the counter with your forearms.

“What can I get you?” Your mouth splits into a toothy smile, before you’re holding up a hand and wagging a suspicious finger at him. “And don’t you dare say a cold beer.”

“Oh, a cold beer would be fine.” Ignoring your quip, Eddie drawls playfully, holding your pinned gaze as your pupils bite at him like an icy winter (but with a hint of fondness, a kind of innocent winter adorned with snowflakes). “Thought you’d never ask.” You keep each other there, before you’re breaking away from the mutual trance to fetch him a Budweiser. “You know I wouldn’t want anything else in the world. Music is soul food, but beer… that’s the good shit right there, baby.”

“Pffft, childish behavior.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes immediately, surveying the faint smirk that decorates your lips as you slide the bottle over to him.

“Says the bartender who doesn’t even drink.”

Condensation rolls down the green exterior, his fingertips damp as he lazily tips it up to his lips and his challenging stare never leaves yours. You shrug nonchalantly, “I’m on the clock, Munson.”

“Poor excuse. First off, this is a bar, not a church. You see that sleazy priest in the back left corner?” He throws his thumb over his shoulder, your eyes following the direction to a nook of poorly lit booths. “He’s on his fourth round of tequila. Even Jesus Christ himself is telling you to take a drink. Seriously, I don’t think anyone here would mind.” Eddie’s rings clink against the bottle, his smile tantalizing and suggestive as you send him a dramatic sigh. “Have some fun once in a while.”

But then you’re smiling to yourself, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on the back pockets of your jeans with a taunting squint.

“Well, if you’re so desperate to get me to drink, why don’t you buy me one sometime?”

You tilt your head. Amused. Insinuating. Cocky?

Oh, fuck. Fuck.

You’re flirting with him. Outright. Direct. Forward. He can’t deny that he found you pretty the moment you greeted him on his first gig here. But when was the last time a girl was this forward with him? Let alone, in a city he didn’t even know. Foreign. Short-term. Wait, backtrack — actually, when was the last time a girl this pretty reciprocated the same interest he’s had in her all along?

A girl who's been able to return the ends of teasing (nervous, really) remarks Eddie has thrown at her. A girl who Eddie finds himself looking over to whenever he’s done with a set, almost as if he were seeking her approval, her validation, that sweet thumbs up and gentle nod from behind the bar that assures him he’s not bad at this.

This meant traveling from state to state, living in a van and 24-hour motels along with two of his highschool best friends that made up the trinity that is Corroded Coffin.

And Corroded Coffin doesn’t stop just anywhere.

Because there’s always the next show, the next city, the next bar or club, the next paycheck that honestly isn’t much, the next attempt at finding a willing record label (tends to be unsuccessful, but every artist has their struggles — ask Ozzy Osbourne), then repeat.

And usually, Eddie never really cares for flirty bartenders.

But in the few months he’s spent playing at this particular bar, he finds himself prodding his brain as to why he almost feels the need to… stay? No. No, that isn’t right. He’s going. He has to. No stopovers. No setbacks.

Yet, Eddie’s face immediately softens at your comment, before hardening back into a look of entertaining embarrassment. His pupils wide, ears tinged red at the elfish tips, cheeks rosy and lips pursing together like a baby trying to speak their first ever words. He’s concerned, maybe even a little bit confused. Smitten. With no effort to hide it. That adds embers to your already burning ego.

And to your surprise, he does manage to get a couple frustrated phrases out. But not without stammering like an idiot.

“I’m… that’s not what I… I wasn’t—“

“You’ve been here for… how long? Like two months?” You chuckle, wiping down the glistening ring of water right by his hand with a towel, glancing at him with amusement as his knuckles flex and his bicep tightens. He nods, waiting for you to continue. “I’m just saying you could’ve spent those two months getting drunk with me instead of wasting it.” You pop an ice cube into your mouth, crunching loudly as he owlishly watches you gesture at him casually. “The ball’s been in your court ever since I said hello, rockstar. Pity.” You let out a non-commital hum. The nickname fizzles heatedly in Eddie’s gut. “But I suppose singers from travelling bands usually don’t go for the bartender.”

“Oh?”

Frankly, he’s captivated. And well, blushing — fuck, stop that.

“Mhm.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“No,” You smile fondly to yourself. “Just the truth, Munson.”

“Eddie. Just Eddie.” He laughs, trying to hide the way his cheeks twitch in a fluster when you sweetly share the sound. “Stop callin’ me Munson.” He notices the subtle lift of your brows, a habit with reason that he’s seemed to figure out from all the time he’s spent staring at your face. “What? It’s weird.”

“You just want to hear me say your name, don’t you?” Your accusation riddles him speechless. Context. You giggle bubbly, biting your knuckle before you’re splaying your hand over the counter. Fingers just mere inches away from touching his longer, thicker, calloused ones. “It’s okay.”

“I… I don’t… you — stop that.”

Your mouth curls up, lips pressing together to suppress another delighted laugh with bright eyes that drift shut.

“Y/N.”

A beat.

“Huh?”

“It’s my name.”

Ohhh…

Eddie wishes he had a mirror just to stare at how foolishly stupid he must’ve looked as he connected the dots. But your victorious smirk is all that he needs to confirm just how dumbfounded he appears.

You’re amused, though. And he is far from offended.

All along, he’s never put a real name to the beautiful face. Just a title, a few generous adjectives — pretty bartender… or now, flirtatious bartender. “Interested in me” bartender. “I should make a move on her” bartender. “It wouldn’t hurt to spend the night” bartender.

Oh my god, he wants to fuck the bartender.

But truthfully — lust aside — he’s thinking about how the sound of your name resonates with him. It rings in his ears like a guitar. Not the electric kind, though. Your name lacks a shrillness, the alarming screech of metal, the cry of an overpowered amp. Rather, your name reminds him of the lull of acoustics. The gentle twang of imperfect chords, the peaceful hymn of a lingering echo, a whispering sing-song of soft lyrics, naked blues and folk songs. Your name glides across his fingers, vibrating long after having plucked at every one of his heartstrings without remorse.

Why is he feeling this so deeply?

Isn’t he supposed to be insanely horny?

Not in… whatever the fuck this is. Whatever the fuck emotion is toying with him right now, making him gushy and soft inside. Maybe he’s homesick. But Eddie’s never really had a home, so that can’t be it.

He repeats your name out loud, testing it — testing its cadence, the weight of it, the intricacy of its surrounding letters.

Your damned smile.

You turn your body slightly, chin burying against the socket of your shoulder almost bashfully. “Better.” You seem to read Eddie’s confusion, pursing your lips and speaking quieter this time with a cocky bob of your throat. “Sounded better coming from your real lips than what I imagined in my head.”

His whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Y/N.” He says again, the syllables no longer foreign to his tongue.

“Eddie.” Your lips turn up, your arms propped up on either side of you as you lean further up against the bar. The wooden edge digs into your abdomen. Your name falls from his mouth once more, but this time, he presents it to you as a question rather than a declaration. You return the sentiment, his name coated in the same curious tone. “Eddie?”

“What are you doing after your shift?”

Instantly, you reply. “Closing.”

“Good.” Eddie swallows the rest of his beer, sliding it over to you with a boyish smirk brimming with sin and temptation. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to get out of here, but you’re…”

“I’m on the clock.”

“You’re on the clock.”

Finishing each other’s sentences at the same time. Good. Compatible. Easy. You can read him in the same way he can read you — almost — and if it translates into the bedroom then…

“But, um, I get off in thirty though.”

Eddie thinks it’s the first time you’ve shown frantic excitement, the words leaving you all too quickly, strung together with shallow breaths that inflate his ego all too much. It’s amazing how he can read you, despite barely even knowing the first thing about you except for the fact that you… bartend. The confidence you had exuded earlier, nothing but dust between his fingertips as you fiddle with the knot of your apron, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth while you shift from one foot to the other.

“Do I make you nervous?” He smiles scandalously, dimples deepening the adorable apples of his blushing cheeks.

You glance at him, incredulous. “No.”

“Okayyy…” He doesn’t believe you. “Thirty it is, then.”

You give Eddie a patient nod, unable to wipe the identical grin of giddiness off of your face with two taps to the counter and a shy look up to the ceiling before you’re scurrying off to help other patrons.

And as he watches you turn into some sort of performer of yourself, cocktail shaker in hand while you make easy conversation with a middle-aged couple furthest adjacent to him (as if you hadn’t just left him dazed and stuttering just moments ago), he realizes that you’re fucking stunning. Nothing like Pat Benatar or Pamela Anderson, maybe a little too obnoxious when you laugh, and visibly lacking sufficient hours of sleep, but you’re attractive — the crinkles by your tired eyes, the charismatic fluttering of your lashes, your quick-witted jokes and your ability to tell a story with your flowing hands.

Just one night.

He’ll allow himself that.

You catch each other’s gaze from across the bar again.

Just one.

“Okay, so… after here, where are you going, big shot?”

Eddie’s eyes follow you as you zip around the now-empty bar, helping you put up chairs onto tables as you leisurely nurse a glass of whiskey in your free hand.

“Nashville, actually. Kinda just ticking off the East Coast as we go.” He replies, stare dragging along the curve of your hips as you saunter over, letting your fingers run across the edge of the round tables before you come to stand in front of him. “And you? You gonna be my little groupie?”

“Am I gonna be your…” You chuckle dryly, looking up at him over the rim of your glass as you take a long, sensual sip. “You’re funny, Eddie. I’ll give you that.”

You lean against the table, hip jutting out as your companion peers down at you. He arches a curious brow, planting his larger palm right beside yours on the wooden surface.

“Just funny?”

You run your free hand across his knuckles, “Maybe a bit talented.” He glances at the motion, licking his lips as he wills himself to step closer.

“Just a bit?” Eddie’s head dips down ever so slightly to catch the glint of want in your eyes. And even in the red-hue of the lonesome bar, he’s able to make out how differently you look at him now. Need. Desire. A type of lust you only receive from strangers. He chuckles huskily, biting his thumbnail in a ponder. “Is this how you normally lure guitarists into your bed, Whiskey?”

Whiskey. A nickname.

You click your tongue and shake your head.

“See, I’m more of a bass girl.” Eddie takes the glass from your grasp, tipping it to his lips before he’s slowly setting it down on the table. You don’t break eye contact. In fact, it’s hard not to — when he looks at you like he wants to take you right here and right now, it’s a bit of a challenge. The way his belt hugs his tapered waist, the odd elegance of edgy chains strung along the fringed sleeves of his vintage jacket, the way a lazy smile lingers on his stupid face like he makes it easy to be that happy. “But maybe I can make an exception for tonight.”

“Christ, is that all that I am to you?” He croons playfully. His fingers turn your hand over, his rings dragging themselves across the smooth skin of your open palm. It’s an intimate gesture, one that makes you hum in satisfaction as his longer digits crawl up towards your cheek, dangerously nearing your soft pout. “An outlier?” He tilts your chin up delicately, sharing a smile. “You’re sick in the head, Whiskey.”

“Change my mind, then.”

“Well, like bass players…” Eddie sighs out, palm skating across your jaw. “Guitarists are also good with their fingers.” He presses the pad of his thumb to your parting lips. You purse against him, turning your head to pepper slow kisses down his knuckles and into the curve of his palm. “They have insane stamina, so I can keep going… song after song. With or without breaks.” He inhales deeply as your lips wrap around his thumb, peering at you through his lashes. “And if they can sing… they’re usually good with their tongue. But if they write their own songs, they tend to be a bit more… articulate with their words, their emotions, what they want. Easier for us to talk dirty.”

Holy fuck, you need him inside you.

You hum, pulling yourself off of his thumb with a pop. “Is this how you normally lure bartenders into your bed, rockstar?”

He brings you in closer, wrapping his free arm around your waist with raised brows. “Only the really pretty ones.”

“Smooth.” You chuckle, bringing your hand up to course through his hair. The action makes his eyes flutter shut, a soft puff of air leaving his nostrils in bliss as you lean in and let your lips ghost over his. “Didn’t know guitarists were such flirts.”

“I try my best,” He rasps into you, half-lidded and dazed. “You gonna take me home tonight?”

“Depends what I’m getting into.”

“How ‘bout I just show you?”

Just one night.

Eddie gingerly cradles your face in his grasp as he slots his mouth over yours, his lips slow and responsive, awaiting your invite. You exhale approvingly, slinging your arms behind his neck as he tugs at your bottom lip, catching the swell of it before he latches onto the tender skin of your throat.

He’s unmistakably gentle, careful as he skims the hollowing v-outline between your collarbones, kneading at your breast through your t-shirt with a breathy groan.

“Y/N…” You grind against his front, jaw falling at the sensation of his knee lodged between your thighs.

“Hm?”

He laughs into your shoulder, boyish and vibrant and almost shy. It’s too late for him to be so coy now.

“I can’t fuck you here.”

“What, you wanna do it on the stage?” You look up at him, sensually running your nails down his Adam’s apple while he palms at the suppleness of your hip. His gaze is trance-like, pupils near black as you rut against his knee. He’s encaptured. Focused. At a loss. Torn between many worlds— your lips and your heat, the timbre of your voice, the movement of your body. “In the bathroom? On this table, right here?” You guide his hand beneath your shirt, the texture of his fingerprints warm and light over your belly. “Maybe… my room? It’s just the apartment upstairs.”

Is that a hint of tease in your voice?

“Yes, your room. Please, god. Yes.” He nudges his nose against yours, gasping into your mouth as you brush your nails over his growing bulge. “Fuck, Whiskey. I’m gonna lose my shit if you do that again.” He catches your wrist before you can move, speaking low and choked, “Take me to your room and I’ll fuck you so good, you’ll think ‘bout me everytime you drink a beer. I’ll make it worth your night. Promise.”

Cocky son of a bitch. Musicians and their egos.

You feel the corners of your lips turn up, accepting the challenge with grace. “You really promise?”

“A guitarist never breaks their word.”

“Talk is cheap, Eddie. Prove it to me.”

And so, he does just that. You lead him past the mazes of tables and chairs and into the sectioned-off, narrow hallway with a spiral of grated stairs ascending up towards a shut door — one that he assumes is your apartment.

But not without nearly tripping over each other, giggling like horny teenagers as he pins you against the very questionable railing, hands and fingers and lips getting caught in the crossfire as his tongue attacks your clavicle, your shirt hanging off of your shoulder scandalously.

Then Eddie has your breasts pushed up against your door, kissing the muscular planes of your back as you struggle to get your keys into the lock, your strained gasps echoing into the graffitied stairwell before he’s hooking an arm around your stomach and tugging you inside once you’ve turned the knob open.

You stumble clumsily, catching yourself on the coat stand before Eddie traps you against the other side of the door.

His eyes are a swirling song of notes, choruses, lyrics. His lips are a broken, looping melody of ‘you’re so pretty’ and ‘need to undress you.’

His voice crackles through the thrumming silence of your small living space, pieces of clothing landing on the hardwood with dull, heavy thuds.

Even without all the embellishments, he takes up so much space — but you don’t mind.

You let your eyes skim over the bulge of his arms, taking in the sight of his tattoos — only ever seeing them from afar, or under that classic jacket — tracing the outline of the bats on his forearm, the mythical creatures scattered across his skin, the vampire fangs on his hipbone.

Is that a fucking tramp stamp?

“Do you like them?”

His voice is contemplatively soft, a genuine question. Insecurity? Him? Impossible. But now, in the dim and dark orange glow of your apartment, you can’t help but notice the small quiver of Eddie’s voice. As if he needed reassurance. As if he was scared to be looked at in this intimate light, away from all the bars and clubs, away from the stage and the blinding spotlights.

And you wonder, how could anyone make this beautiful, naïve, bright-eyed rockstar ever feel unwanted?

“I do — they suit you, Eddie.” You shake your head in disbelief. “Truly. You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”

You glance up at him, catching the fire in his eyes as you carefully press your hands to his chest and your lips delicately meet ink. You pepper his complexion with kisses, ghosting over his sternum, slowly walking him back until his heels hit the bedded mattress on the floor.

He collapses back on it, almost gracefully (you don’t know how he can make falling look so… good, but he just does it effortlessly, hair cascading down his cheeks and all), leaning back on his elbows as he parts his thighs and makes room for you to kneel on your haunches.

There’s a split minute of silent intimacy, how Eddie holds his knuckles to your cheek and drags them ever so slowly, taking in the swollen swell of your bottom lip, the breathless expression on your features as he pulls you onto his lap and pulls your shirt over your head.

“Fuck, W-Whiskey…” He stammers, drinking in the sight of your torso and the lacy bra covering your tits. Your neck is already decorated with marks, fading across your collarbones. “Fucking pretty. Fucking beautiful.” You shudder as he mouths at the tops of your breasts. “All this… just to hide behind that stupid bar. Shit, fuck, the world should see you.”

“Hey, I very much l-like that stupid bar.” You sigh, head thrown back as he unclasps your bra, slinging it far from reach before his lips trail up your ribs. His tongue swirling over your nipples. “Don’t insult my job, and I won’t insult yours.”

“I was insulted the minute you told me you preferred bass players.” Eddie scoffs, amusement dripping from his tone of voice. You grind your crotch into his bulge, chuckling when his mouth falls open in pleasure. “Fuck, you wanna do this? Just like that?” His grip on your waist tightens as he bucks his hips into you, grinning widely when you roughly push him back down onto the bed. “Christ, you’re hot.”

“M’gonna suck you off now.” You rasp, situating yourself between his thighs before you undo his belt buckle. “I hope you’re still this talkative when I put my mouth on you.”

Eddie guides your hand down his dark happy trail, eyes locked on yours as you tug his jeans down his ankles, tossing it aside, “Show me… fuck… show me how pretty girls like you suck cock then.”

You smirk up at him devilishly, sensually freeing him from his boxers. His cock springs out from the fabric — erect, leaking at the tip, shaft ruddy and velvety as you take him into your fist. Your fingers curl around him, barely wrapping around him fully due to his fat girth.

“Oh, shiiit…” Eddie moans breathily, blinking quickly as you litter kisses upon his thighs. Your lips drag up the base of him, feeling the pulse of him as you suckle at his tip. “Y/N. G-God… fuck, need to see you take i-it all.” He hisses, thumbing at the indent of his cock against your cheek.

His eyebrows are pulled into a tight, raised line, the bridge of his nose flushed pink as you hum around him. Your throat does most of the work, your hands fondling with the weight of his balls, occasionally switching between your fist and your mouth as you work his shaft.

Now, sitting up to watch you, Eddie’s palms crown the back of your head, reveling in how you bob up and down in his grasp with crude satisfaction. Spit bubbles down your chin, your neck glistening with saliva as another pornographic gag erupts from you. He grunts as your whole body lurches against him, your back arching abruptly as you try to take him deeper.

“Sweet girl… oh, you’re doing so well.” He sighs, stroking your hair. “So good to me. So fun w-watching you take my dick down your throat. Yeah, that’s i-it. Shit, no one’s sucked me off this good. You do this…” He gasps, strained. “… you do this often? With all the bands that come through h-here?”

You pull off of him, laughing hoarsely. “Do you think I’m some kind of bartending slut?” Your eyes water at your lower lash-line, glassy and wide. “Awfully a dirty imagination you got there, rockstar.”

“I think that you’re fuckin’ amazing at sucking cock, that’s what I think.” He tsks beadily, thumbing at your swollen lip. “And pretty cocksuckers like you…” You let out a deep exhale at the candor of his words. It makes you feel filthy, but in the best way. “… deserve to be treasured. Satisfied. I just have to make you feel as good as I do, baby. Tell me, what’s a guy like me gotta do to get you under me?” Eddie whispers, taking your glistening chin between his fingers.

You chuckle softly and nip at his knuckle while you hold each other’s gazes, lazily pumping him in your hand. “A bit of foreplay, maybe.”

“O-kay. Noted.”

“Maybe, like, one or two orgasms.”

“Just two? You underestimate me, Whiskey.”

Eddie effortlessly flips you onto your back, a yelp falling from your lips as he pins your wrists above your head, his knee placed over your stomach playfully as you laugh heartily beneath him. His hair falls in a frame around your face, the soft waves tickling your sweaty skin as he pops the button of your jeans open.

“Well, you can only do so much in a night, handsome.”

“S’good thing we have all night long then, hm?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #one for the road #one for the road inspo

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phantomraeken · 1 year

Text

"I know you're in pain" ─ Teen Wolf ─ Derek Hale

A/N : Hi! My writing isnt the best! This will be a series of stories of our m!reader being in pain and how our Teen Wolf babies would react!

Character: Derek Hale

Warnings: Blood and gore

Y/N had many encounters with hunters. He was rarely scraped in the process of these encounters. Nothing some bandages and a lot of rest (that derek insisted on) wouldn't fix. Today was no different. He hadn't even been seaking out these people. He'd been sat at the bar of a coffee shop talking to the barista. They'd went to high school together a while back. He was a sweetheart, or so Y/N thought. Until an hand met his left shoulder. It was fine until the hand gripped. Hard. Y/N gently swiveled his head to meet the womans gaze. Before he could get a word out she shoved him out of the wooden bar stool on to the hard tile floor. He hadn't gotten a grip of the whole situation until he heard the bar stool hit the floor beside him.

"What the hell?" Y/N spat at the woman trying to push himself up. Her foot met his chest shoving him back down. Knocking the wind out of the boy. He let out a harsh breath. Y/N finally caught his breath and spoke again, his eyes shooting daggers at the dark haired woman. "Need something?"

"Awww, the wolfy is all mad." Her voice taunted his ears. His heart jumped as those words slipped through her painted red lips. Y/N went to grab her boot but the moment his hand met her shiny boot she pulled out a blade.

"Fuck off!" Y/N growled, his eyes sparked gold before returning to their natural (e/c) state.

"Cute." She smiled, a shit eating smile. A smile that made Y/N's anger rise. The woman slowly leaned down, her knees met the floor on either side of the boys torso. Her blade was waved in his face. Silver.

Y/N tried to move from her grip but suddenly pain throbbed through his upper right arm, she'd dug the blade through his arm making it stuck. He reached his other arm over his chest to pull it out. She clicked her tonuge. Suddenly, in one swift moment she grabbed Y/N's wrist and shoved it above his head. She pulled another blade out slashing it across his chest.

Y/N let out a shriek of pain. What more could he do? This hunter was insane. Before he could speak again her voice filled the silent café. "Your kind killed my family. Your father killed my family, Y/N L/N." Anger filled her voice. "And now I've come to repay you the favor, dear boy. Don't think any of your friend are safe either."

Y/N finally howled, it ended in a scream of pain. The lady laughed at his horrible noise. He watched as one of the workers covered his ears. Y/N was done. He ripped his hand out of the womans grasp. With the violent jerk his whole body moved, throwing her off of him. Though, it did result in the blade that was stuck in his arm cutting him further. Finally Y/N pulled the blade from his arm and threw it to the side.

The door quite litterly flew open and off its hinges. He couldn't even watch where it went. When it met a wall he winced at the horid noise. "Little late, don't you think?" Y/N gave a small, pained smile as he looked back to see Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and his lover boy, Derek Hale himself.

"Sorry honey. Figured you could hold your own." Derek spoke in his usual comanding tone, it was laced with sas and genuine care. Y/N pushed himself up before a new pain met his leg. He looked down at the woman. "Okay, now she's-"

"Really?" Y/N interrupted Derek. "Hun," He knelt down his gaze meeting hers. "I'll meet you in hell! Say hi to Peter for me, will you?" His free foot jerked to meet her face, sliding her back a few feet. "Nice blade too." He pulled the knife out of his leg. Y/N gave the blade a good look before throwing it. The blade met her head.

"Fuc-" Y/N's body finally gave out. Boyd quickly caught him and knelt down so Y/N wouldn't fall on the floor.

The world slowly went black, muffled voices filled Y/N's ears. Some of it was panicked, some was just pure anger.

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

Y/N gained consciousness after a few painfully long hours for Derek. He was sat beside the unconscious body of his boyfriend. Derek had insisted that Y/N stayed at his place instead of a hospital.

His fingers were intertwined with the (s/c) boy. Derek didn't want to seem weak in front of the people who needed him. He finally broke down and started sobbing.

Y/N couldn't move, just listen to the chokes that slipped out of Derek's mouth. As he regained some strength he gave a small squeeze to Derek's hand. This was rewarded with a small kiss to his knuckles.

"You're alive." Derek spoke quietly.

Y/N managed to sit up. A spike of pain hit his chest. He let out a gasp and gritted his teeth. Derek's hand met his cheek.

"It hurts." Y/N gasped out. Normally he had a high pain tolerance but his chest was his weak spot. Derek gave a gentle shush like noise.

"I know honey. It's going to be okay. I'm here, Y/N. I'll take care of you. Okay?" Derek spoke sternly. Y/N knew Derek ment well. It was just his way of talking. "You need rest. Lay down. Now."

"Der, I can take care of myself. Ple-" Y/N was quickly cut off.

"No. I love your independence, really. But you need to trust me and rest. You're healing at the speed of a human this time." Derek spoke sternly. His eyes glowed red and a growl escaped his lips. "You need to lay down."

"Okay, okay. I'll rest." Y/N slid back into a laying position before giving a small pat to the bed beside him. "You should rest too. You're stressing to much about me. Please."

Derek couldn't resist your cute face, he loved the small smiles you gave him. Everything about you was perfect to him. He gave in and slipped under the blankets with you. He very, very gently wrapped his arms around you. Like you were fragile.

"Derek." Y/N started. Derek pushed his face into the smaller boys neck, his breath ghosting over it. In response to his name he gently hummed. "I'm not fragile, you know?" Derek moved his face so the two boys locked eyes.

"I'm scared I'll-" Y/N cut him off with a kiss.

Derek melted into the kiss a small smile played at the sides of his mouth.

Once Derek shifted to make both boys more comfortable Y/N was asleep in seconds. Derek loved when his boyfriend fell asleep in his arms. He knew he wouldn't sleep. Derek had to watch and make sure Y/N's chest was still rising and falling.

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

It had been a few days sense the incident. Y/N had finally started showing signs of healing. Today was his first day out of bed, against Derek's word. It took him a few tries to get out of bed but he found his footing. Y/N slipped on Derek's slippers, they were a bit big on him but comfortable. He didn't know where his boyfriend was but he'd find him.

Midway down the hall the silence was interupted by Derek's deep voice, "Y/N, why are you out of bed? I'm glad you're feeling better but you need to rest."

Y/N spun on his heels, losing his footing and falling on to his knees. Derek ran over letting out a sigh.

"I wanted to come see you. I was lonely." Y/N pouted. Derek scooped him up bridal style. Y/N let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back so his head was hanging back.

"You need to heal. You can sit with me but you need to lay down." Derek's gaze sofened.

"Fine." Y/N grumbled, a small growl played in his throat.

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

A/N: SOFT DEREK HALE BABYYYYY. I hope you liked it and let me know who you'd like next!!

#teen wolf x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x male reader #derek hale #derek hale x male reader #derek hale x reader

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collecting-stories · 26 days

Note

Hey hey hope I’m not too late with this 🫢

100 Compliments - #72 "You always look good."

Brian “Otis” Zvonecek x fem because Otis always does look so good in everything he wears 😍

You Always Look Good - Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek

Summary: Otis dresses up for a shift at Molly's in hopes of impressing you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write! School has been crazy!!

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

"Look at you," Stella teased, pinching Otis' side as she walked past him behind the bar at Molly's .

Otis flinched at the feeling, shoving her hand away, as his cheeks reddened. "I look the same as I always do," he defended. Still, he straightened the button down shirt that he was wearing, navy with little pineapples printed all over it.

Stella was unbothered by Otis' defensiveness. She stopped and looked back at him, eyes traveling up and down as she assessed him. "I don't know, something different 'bout you tonight," she replied, "you do something to your hair?"

"No," he insisted, running a hand subconsciously through his hair.

Sensing his unusually high nerves, Stella offered him a smile, "okay. I'm not trying to give you a hard time, I promise."

Just like she knew he would, Otis deflated, leaning against the bar and looking toward the door of Molly's before looking back at Stella. "I've been...putting feelers out...I met someone, here. She works at the hospital and she's...she's awesome. Incredible. Gorgeous. And I just wanna ya know, look good."

Before Stella could respond to his spiral of nerves, a voice cut in from the other side of the bar, "you always look good."

Otis' eyes went wide and he turned quickly to see the very person of his affection, you, standing there smiling at him.

"Hey," you gave a small wave, leaning against your side of the bar as if that might lessen the distance the wooden countertop created between you and Otis.

Stella backed away, smiling from ear to ear and no doubt going to find Herrmann or Mouch (or anyone that she could gossip with about you and Otis and how red he had turned when you told him that he looked good).

"Hey," he replied, mimicking your wave but quickly lowering his hand in case you could tell how clammy his palms felt right now. If Cruz was here he would definitely give him a hard time for acting like this. Not that anyone could accuse him of being suave but he wasn't lacking in confidence either. Well, he was lacking in the kind of confidence Severide or Casey possessed but he had a decent amount. "Can I, uh, get you a beer? Or something?"

"A beer is good," you replied, taking a seat on one of the stools and watching Otis as he grabbed a bottle of Blue Moon for you, "so...I'm awesome?"

"And incredible," he admitted, a smile creeping onto his face, "and gorgeous."

"A triple threat," you teased, "guess we're evenly matched then?"

It took a few seconds for the words to process in Otis' head, the recognition slowly taking over as he nodded almost dumbly, full on smile breaking through and ears going as red as the rest of his face was. "Yeah?" He meant to sound less like a question but he couldn't help the way his voice raised at the end of the word, turning it into uncertainty.

"Definitely," you replied holding up your pointer finger as you listed out the first of three things, "awesome: you watched all the Star Wars movies with me in one sitting -"

"I mean, you can't not celebrate May 4th correctly."

You held up your middle finger next, ignoring him, "Incredible: you literally save people's lives like, on the daily," finally you held up your thumb, "Gorgeous: self-explanatory. Look at you."

Otis leaned against the bar, trying to look casual and not completely flustered by your comment. "Well, I can't argue with that."

You laughed, "oh can't you?" and leaned over the rest of the way to kiss him.

"Hey! No PDA with the customers Otis!" Herrmann shouted from the other side of the bar.

You pulled away trying to fight a smile as you looked down the bar to Herrmann, Mouch, and Stella, who had obviously been watching you and Otis the entire time.

"How late are you working then?" You asked, "I mean, how many bartenders does this place need tonight?" You glanced around Molly's, slow for a random Tuesday, and then back to Otis, "not that I'm suggesting you ditch your job."

"No, of course not," he said, already turning to Herrmann, "I'm gonna head out, seems like you and Stella have it covered."

"Whoa-"

"Have fun!" Stella cut in, smiling mischievously, "be safe!"

"Oh god," the pink cheeks were back on Otis as he rounded the counter to meet you on your side.

"Hey, she didn't pay for her beer!" Herrmann realized as he watched you and Otis make a break for the door.

#otis zvonecek x reader #otis zvonecek fanfiction #otis zvonecek imagine #otis zvonecek fanfic #brian zvonecek x reader #Chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fic #one chicago imagine #collecting stories imagine

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angryschnauzer · 1 year

Text

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 3

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,

Wordcount: 4346

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Chapter 3

The water levels were rising, a steady flow coming in through the door seals. With the car hanging at such a precarious angle your full weight was pulling on the seatbelt, holding you in place. Your mind was hazy, and as you reached out for him in the driver's seat he slapped your hand away;

“Don’t touch me!” he spat out, the venom in his tone one you were used to.

You shook your head, trying to stop the loud buzzing in your mind, the water continued to flow higher. The cold crept in, it was up to your knees now, the hem of your dress was dark where the river was encroaching.

The car shifted on the rocks, the icy waters surging with snow melt wanting to push you further downstream. Blue light flooded the windows. You wanted to scream but knew it would only be greeted with more venom. The car shifted again, metal on stone…

And you were awake. You were safe.

The soft light of the new day came in through the window, the light drapes softly moving in the breeze. The room was warm, but you were drenched in a cold sweat.

Pulling the twisted covers off you sat on the side of the bed, your heart racing. It had been a long time since you’d had a nightmare like that, months at least. The events of four years ago were something you’d been able to finally put behind you with the relocation to this sunny little town. You’d moved on, built a new life. Taking a deep breath you stood and stripped, heading into your bathroom and the custom steam shower you’d had installed. Turning the heat up as high as you could bear you washed away the sweat and any last lingering memories of the icy water of your dream, scrubbing yourself clean and getting ready for your day.

As the work week rolled along you were busy with deadlines, updating papers and writing new requests. Sy had been on your mind non stop after his visit at the weekend. You’d texted back and forth, and you’d been avidly watching his social media, enjoying the regular updates on his businesses’ day to day life, and the promise of dinner at the end of the week, this time his treat. You’d put the nightmare behind you and had dived head first into work, getting well ahead of schedule with your workload, so when an invite for coffee with a good friend had come through you didn’t feel the slightest hesitation to down tools and agree to meet her.

Tamara was already sitting at the open window counter when you approached the coffee shop, looking out as the warm breeze blew along the tree lined main street. Through the trees you could see the old town water tower up the small hill behind the coffee shop, the decades old wooden structure now used for little more than water for the flower filled planters that lined the streets, the town water system updated meaning the tower was no longer needed to add water pressure. It looked rickety as hell with the wood now a dull faded grey and the painted town name barely visible, but it was part of the town and seemed a fixture that would be there forever.

Waving as you entered the coffee shop you ordered your drink before joining Tam at the window, climbing onto the high bar style stool;

“Hey”

“Heyyyy” she replied, stretching her greeting out which wasn’t normal and it made you pause.

“What?”

“How was your weekend?”

Scrutinising her face you saw she had a slight look of amusement on her face;

“It was good. What… what’s going on?”

“Oh, it was only good?”

“Tam” you said, getting frustrated

“Okay okay, i drove by your place at the weekend to return those books i borrowed”

You looked at her, knowing what she was hinting at;

“And you will have seen Lucas Syverson cutting the lavender for his honey business”

“Oh” She looked a little deflated and turned back to her drink, stirring the straw to let the ice cubes clink against the glass. She took a sip as you continued;

“But he asked me out”

Tam’s drink caught in her throat as her brain processed what you said.

Tamara was one of your oldest friends. You’d bonded in high school and had ended up at the same college. After you’d graduated you’d drifted apart, she’d moved to a small town for a Veterinarian job but you’d had other reasons to stay on in your college town. After the accident she’d reached out and invited you to stay with her, giving you the chance to put thousands of miles between you and the trauma.

She’d helped you get settled, find a realtor and even signed as a guarantor on your mortgage. In the last year she’d been lightly encouraging you to consider dating, but hadn’t pushed you, so the news that you’d not only met someone by yourself but had arranged a date was the best news she’d heard in years.

Sy paced the room, glancing at the wall as he chewed on the side of his thumb. The sound of tyres on his gravel driveway drew his attention to the incoming visitor, watching as the big truck pulled up and its owner came to a halt and quick ran up the steps of the cabin, not waiting to knock and walked straight in, only pausing when he saw Sy;

“What’s wrong?! Are you ok?!”

Sy held up two shirts;

“Which one?”

Walter paused, closing his eyes and pinching the ridge of his nose;

“Excuse me?”

“Which One?” Sy repeated, holding the shirts in turn up to his neck.

“Sy… you got some explaining to do… I was busy…”

Sy took a deep breath;

“I have a date”

“A date?” Walter cautiously repeated

“And you weren’t busy, you were still trying to build that damn racoon trap”

Walter took a deep breath. He knew what his natural response would have been. His cousin calls him on a rare day off, it's something that he’s put so much thought into and still can’t come to a conclusion. So he does what he does best; problem solves.

“Where are you going for the date?”

“Antonios on Main Street”

“What date is it? First, Second, Third?”

“First”

Walter crossed the room and plucked both shirts from Sy’s grasp;

“Neither of these, you’ll look like a lumberjack” he rooted around in the closet and pulled out a dark cotton button up shirt with long sleeves.

“Walt…” Sy started

“I know, you’ll get too hot. But not if you leave a couple of buttons undone on your chest and roll your sleeves up once you’re sat in the restaurant. Girls love that shit”

Sy plucked the shirt from Walter’s hand, pulling it on and buttoning it;

“How did you suddenly turn into a chick magnet?”

Not turning to Sy, Walter started to hang the discarded shirts back in the closet;

“They dig my big magnum” as he tapped the gun hanging in its holster on his belt. Even off duty he still carried it.

Sy coughed and muttered something along the lines of ‘bullshit’ as Walter spoke;

“The girls at the Station, they talk, and they don’t know I listen. They spent 45 minutes last week instilling the virtues of a man’s hands, and how if they say ‘you’ve got nice hands’, it doesn’t just mean that you have nice hands, it means they’ve fantasised about those hands doing things - good things - to them. We had some average guy come in to install fibre optic into the bullpen to upgrade all the computers, halfway through the job he stopped and carefully rolled his shirt sleeves up. I have not seen so little work going on at any given point since they pulled an ice cream truck up outside last summer”

He turned and saw his cousin standing still, arms held out expectantly;

“What’d’ya think?”

Walter nodded;

“Looks good, but unbutton one more, girls like a bit of chest hair”

Sy did as Walter suggested, before turning to the mirror and smoothing the dark shirt over his chest;

“It looks ok? Doesn’t stick to my gut? I’ve put on a few pounds since the last time I went on a date”

Walter crossed the room and clasped a hand onto Sy’s shoulder;

“Man, you look fine. Who is the lucky lady then?”

Sy went on to explain how he’d met you, and his trip to your house with the lavender and how you already loved Akia. At the sound of her name she came trotting over and gave his hand a small lick before sitting down at his side.

Walter nodded to the furry friend;

“You want me to babysit?”

Sy looked at the big brown eyes staring up at him;

“It should be ok, I’ll only be a couple of hours”

“You’ll be longer than that if you’re going to Antonio’s. The food is good but on a Friday night they can take a while. Plus it’ll be nice if you take her around the park, the Mayor just installed a bunch of lights and it looks all pretty and shit, girls love that stuff” Walter crouched down and roughly petted Akia; “You want to come to Uncle Walters for the night girl? Want to help me chase racoons?”

The dog immediately got to her feet, wagging her tail before she ran off and came back dragging her blanket from her basket;

“I think that’s decided then” Walter smiled as Sy let out a sigh; “You’ll do great”

Holding the mascara wand you were debating whether to add another coat to your lashes when there was a knock at the door which made the decision for you. Putting it back into the tube you twisted it before placing it on the table, running to the door and opening it quickly with a smile;

“Sy!”

“Wow, you look stunning” he stepped in and pressed a small bunch of red roses into your hand, resting his hand on your hip as he gave you a kiss on your cheek.

You felt the heat rise to your face, unfamiliar with a man giving you such a compliment, stumbling a little at your words;

“Th-thanks… i’ll just go put these in some water”

A few moments later Sy was holding the door to his truck open as you climbed up, and you were somewhat regretting wearing heels and a dress as you hadn’t counted on the fact the truck was considerably taller than you were used to.

The ride into downtown was fairly quick, and the pair of you made small talk as Sy searched for a parking spot before finally finding one half a block down from the restaurant. He got out first and quickly rounded the truck, opening the door for you and offering his hand. Turning in the seat, taking Sy’s hand and resting your other hand on the door handle, and you tried as elegantly as possible to slide out of the seat until your feet could touch the asphalt below. However mid slide it became clear your plan had a flaw in it, your dress pulling up your thighs but with gravity in motion you were sliding further;

“Help!”

It took a second for Sy to realise what was happening, but he thankfully closed the gap and shielded you from the view of the sidewalk;

“What’s happened?” he asked, his body close as he did his best to avert his gaze from your now exposed thighs. You’d grasped at the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down to cover your panties.

“My dress has caught on something” you went to look over your shoulder but couldn’t turn without showing him - and everyone on the street - your ass.

“I can go around the other side and unhook you?”

As he went to step away you grabbed his arm and pulled him back;

“No! Everyone will see!”

He nodded;

“Right… you’re right…”

He moved towards you, pressing his body to yours as he looked over your shoulders at the situation;

“Hang on, i might be able to unhook it from here”

Reaching both arms around you, his body fully pressed against yours and you were caged in by his shoulders and biceps. He pushed himself a little closer, his entire body against yours, his leg between your thighs and you could feel the rough touch of the denim through the lace of your underwear. After a few moments of trying to pull the fabric loose he pulled back and gently held your shoulders;

“The fabric is pulled too tight, it needs some slack”

You could feel your bottom lip start to wobble, your throat tight. As the tears of embarrassment started to well in your eyes you nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip. Sy rubbed his hands over your arms;

“Listen, it’s going to be ok, we’ll get this sorted… don’t cry, you’ll be alright”

There was something soothing about this calm voice, the reassurance that he could be calm even when you were bubbling on the edge of emotional mess. You took a deep breath as you were transfixed by the pale blue of his gaze, before you gave him a slight nod of your head.

“Okay… i’ve got an idea. Brace yourself”

“For wha… ohmygod!”

Without warning Sy had grasped your thighs and lifted you back onto the high seat of the truck. Pushing the door closed he trotted around to the other side before climbing up and leaning over to your seat, pushing your dress out of the way so he could get to the seatbelt clasp. After a couple of minutes of prodding and poking with a small screwdriver that had been in the centre console he let out a triumphant ‘ta-da!’, holding your dress up to show it was now free from being trapped.

“Thanks” you said quietly, calmly taking it from him and lowering it so your panties weren’t completely on display. He softly cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your lips;

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink. Do you drink?”

You nodded;

“Yes. I need that”

This time when he rounded the car and opened the door, he checked that you weren’t caught up before taking hold of your ribcage and lifting you out of the truck and setting you down onto the ground. Slipping your hand into his, he made sure you were well out of the way as he shut the door, before the pair of you strolled along the sidewalk to the restaurant.

“You just seemed so calm when i was turning to a complete mess” you commented as you sipped your wine whilst the pair of you waited for your food to arrive.

Sy smiled at you;

“Guess it was just old habits, when i was a First Responder the one thing you can’t do is panic. I could see your anxiety was rising and i took control” he sipped at the Non-alcholic beer he’d ordered; “I’m sorry for manhandling you…”

“It was fine! I kinda liked it” the words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you watched Sy quirk an eyebrow and grin at you;

“I’ll keep that in mind”

At that moment your meals arrived, and small talk continued as you ate. When the time for dessert came you barely had enough room, Sy letting you choose something for the two of you to share. When the waiter brought over the mini churros with hot honey dip Sy looked at you quizzically;

“Honey dip?”

“I was intrigued what a honey expert would think of them”

Pushing your glasses to the side, Sy unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up, seemingly unaware as you watched him do so. Picking up one of the churros he gently pulled it in half, handing you one piece before you both dipped it into the honey mixture that had small pieces of fresh chilli pepper in it;

“Cheers”

Putting it in your mouth you chewed thoughtfully on it as you let the flavours hit your tastebuds.

“Another?” Sy asked to which you nodded, watching again as he snapped a churro in two and dipped it.

“Thanks” you paused; “You have really nice hands” you complimented as you took the treat from him, the two glasses of wine you’d had making you miss the blush that extended from his beard all the way to the top of his ears.

As you finished the dessert and the meal finished, Sy asked for the check. You went to grab your purse but he held up his hand;

“No no, this is on me”

“Are you sure? At least let me get the tip”

He took a deep breath and smiled;

“Sure”

As you left the restaurant Sy held out his arm for you, watching as you hooked your own through his as he nodded to the small park at the centre of town, surrounded by stores on all sides;

“Fancy a walk to see the lights? Walt told me it looked real pretty”

“Walt?”

“Walter, my cousin. He’s the sheriff”

“Oh, Sheriff Marshall. I didn’t realise you were related”

Crossing the street Sy paused as you stepped up the kerb;

“Yeah. After i was medically retired from the Fire Dept i wanted a new start. Walt had been telling me to come out West and enjoy the quiet life. Didn’t have anything keeping me in the City so i sold up and loaded everything into a U-Haul. Took a long drive with Akia in the passenger seat. Been here just over four years now”

“How long have you been doing the honey?”

Sy picked up some small pebbles from the ground and started to skip them across the pond;

“Been tending to the bees for as long as i’ve been here, their care was part of the purchase agreement for the cabin. Was only when it came to harvest time that i suddenly ended up with 40lbs of honey that i had no idea what to do with did the business start up. My nephew helped me set up with a website and social media, he’s great with all that stuff, he’s a Junior at college now”

“Nephew, would that be Walter’s kid?”

“Yeah, Mike, he’s a cool kid. Thinks he’s god's gift to women, but then so did Walt at that age, that’s how he ended up with a kid that’s in college before he’s even 40 himself”

You laughed as you rested your arms on the railings to the pond as Sy skipped pebbles across the water;

“I cannot imagine Sheriff Marshall as a ladies man. He always says so quiet, or is grumpy as hell. I had to go into the Station to apply for some permits when i had the cottage’s bathroom upgraded and needed to get the utilities company to install a new water main, i don’t think he said more than two words to me even though he was on the front desk”

“Ah, it was probably after a late night of racoon hunting”

“Huh?”

Sy laughed;

“Walter has this racoon in his backyard. He’s been trying for years to trap it. That little bandit has outwitted our fine towns Sheriff every single time”

You joined Sy in the laughter, watching as he skipped another rock across the water, only this time it skipped into the reeds and was followed by the sound of angry quacking;

“Oops” he grabbed your hand; “C’mon, lets get out of here before we get an angry duck coming after us”

You laughed as he started to walk;

“Us? You were the one that skipped the rock”

“Yeah, but you’re an accessory to the crime, you stood by and didn’t stop me”

“Hey!” your laughter filled the space around you as you hooked your arm through his, falling into step beside him; “What did you think of that honey with dessert?”

“Honestly?” he looked at you as you walked; “You could tell it was synthetic honey, or at least a blend of mass produced honey from bees that get very little wild food”

“You should approach them”

“Who? The bees?”

“No, silly. The restaurant. See if they want to do a collaboration or something? They had a few more local suppliers mentioned on their menu since the last time i went there”

By now you were back at the truck, Sy opening the door for you;

“Do you need a boost?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth

“I’ll be fine” you replied, struggling to get your feet up onto the kick plate in your heels and your slightly drunken state.

After trying for a few seconds you felt Sy’s hands on your butt, before he gave you a push and propelled you up and into the seat of the truck;

“You were taking too long, woman” he muttered as he shut the door, grinning at you as he circled the truck and climbed in with ease. As he sat in the drivers seat he leant across the car, his hand reaching behind you and you leaned in for a kiss, pressing your lips to his. The touch was sexually charged and as he finally pulled away he had your seatbelt in his hand;

“I was just going to buckle you up but that was more than welcome”

“Oops”

Once he was buckled in himself he started the engine and pulled away, his hand resting on your leg as he drove.

The trip to your cottage didn’t take long, and as he pulled onto the gravel driveway the security light came on, illuminating the entire side of the house;

“That’s a good light you got there”

“Yeah, got them all around the house, just to be sure”

As he shut the engine off he smiled at you;

“I’ll walk you to your door”

Ever the gentleman Sy quickly rounded the truck and was at your door, this time you were prepared and had swung your legs around to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as he lifted you out of the truck and set you on your feet. Sliding his hand into yours he turned and walked you to your door. You stood on the porch fiddling with your key;

“Would you…”

Sy looked at the door;

“I would love to come in, but i won’t”

“Oh”

“But it ain’t because i don’t want to. Hell, i want to. But you’ve had a drink, and i’ve got to work the farmers market tomorrow” He stepped closer, resting one hand on your hip as the other cupped your cheek; “But would would very much like to kiss you, properly this time”

You nodded, already leaning into his touch as his lips met yours. His hand on your hip reached around you and grasped your ass, pulling you flush with his body and made you gasp, giving Sy the chance to deepen the kiss. And god damn it that man could kiss. His tongue danced against your own, his hands pulling your body against his as you both swayed, before he turned you and pressed you against the side of your porch. The movement had cause you to straddle one of Sy’s thighs, his hand pulling your leg up around his hip as he wedged his thigh between your legs, the thick muscle flexing against your core.

When you finally had to break the kiss for air you both were breathless, your chests heaving. He rested his forehead against yours;

“I’ve got to go”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Before i end up staying”

“Okay”

He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he stepped back, you couldn’t help but to glance down and notice the sizeable bulge now pushing at his dark jeans. You tried to hide your smile as you turned to unlock your door, hoping he didn’t spot you looking.

As you held the screen door open you turned to him, smiling as you saw him reach out to hold the door as you unlocked the inner door;

“Can I make you dinner Sunday night?” he asked

“Sure, i’d like that”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and you watched as he walked back to his truck. You waved as he pulled out of the driveway before you stepped inside, locking the door behind you.

Setting your bag and keys down onto the kitchen table you let out a deep sigh;

“I need a cat or something I can tell about my date” you mused to yourself as you ran a glass of water. Just then your phone chimed, and as you checked the screen you smiled;

“Even better”

Dialling the number you kicked your heels off and sat on the couch;

“Hey Tam, you will not believe how my date went…”

Sy twisted the cap off the beer bottle, taking a drink as he held the phone between his ear and his shoulder;

“Why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be ‘busy’?” Walter’s voice was kind as he spoke

“I’m not gonna fuck her on the first date. Plus she’d had a drink, and i got market tomorrow”

“But it went ok? Are you seeing her again?”

“Sure am. Gonna cook her dinner Sunday night”

“Nice. Hey, shall I drop Akia for you tomorrow at the market or at your place?”

“I’ll be at the market from 7am so unless you want a real early start, the market’s fine”

“Sure thing buddy. I’m glad it went well”

“Thanks Walt. Oh hey, guess what she said?”

“Go on”

“She likes my hands”

He could hear Walter sigh;

“I should never have told you that”

“And she kisses real good too”

“You know what, save it Mr Loverboy. I’ll see you tomorrow morning”

Chapter 4 >>>

#as sweet as honey #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sy x reader #henry cavill

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