#sheriff good x reader

[mikedfaist]

Do you write Dodge x Reader? If yes, could you write one where Reader gets hurt during a Panic challenge and Dodge helps her?

DODGE, MY BOY.

I first want to apologize because it has been several sleeps since I’ve watched Panic completely through, so I don’t remember all the details, but I will try. So, this would happen when they have to break and enter into that one man’s house and steal something. If you want a little recap of their relationship, you can read this.

Her and Dodge are a team. If it’s not a solo challenge, he will be by your side. So, I imagine the two of you found something to take, and as you’re escaping through a window, that’s when you hear the first gunshot. You two freeze, but Dodge is quick to push you along. You’re out the window first and running through the cornfield when you hear a second shot. You stop in your tracks when you notice Dodge isn’t behind you, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of the man yelling.

You don’t want to think about it; you’re shaking your head in disbelief and begin to run back to the house when a third shot echoes through the air, and you feel the pain rupture into your leg. You scream out, falling down into the grass, clutching your thigh. You can hear your name being called out, and there’s a rustle by your head where Dodge crawls out from the stalks forward you.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck.” He presses down on the wound, which only sends waves of pain through your entire leg. “I’m sorry—fuck…”

“He got me.” You lay down, covering your face with your arms, as Dodge removes his shirt to make a tourniquet.

“I know, baby.” His voice cracks. “I think it just grazed you but…I don’t know, it looks deep.”

“It hurts,” You wince out, choking back tears. “Make it stop.”

Dodge feels defeated. Can he even take you to the hospital without stirring questions about a gunshot wound, and not mention Panic?

“Come on,” He bites his lip. “We’ll get you taken care of.”

His mom.

He carries you back to his car and lays you down in the backseat. “Hold tight for me, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

Dodge squeezes your hand and jumps into the front seat. The pain is subtitling into a rooted throb, and you raise your head to speak.

“Dodge…it’s not hurting so bad now.”

“Might be the adrenaline…or shock, I don’t know. We’re almost there.”

When they arrive at his house, his mom’s care is thankfully still seated in the driveway.

“My mom’s going to take care of this, okay?” He bends down to pick you back up in his arms. “It’ll be over soon, just trust me, okay?”

When he enters the house, his mom shoots up from the sofa. He tries to explain what happened, but he can’t quite focus on anything but the sound of your whimpers.

“I need to cut your jeans off, sweetie. Need to see what all happened.” She’s always been so gentle with you. She cuts a long strip from the ankle to your thigh, exposing the wound, confirming Dodge’s suspicions. “Okay, it was just a graze, which is good. Still nasty though.”

You lay down on the kitchen floor, Dodge sitting up by your head.

“Okay, honey, we need to clean it out… Dodge, can you grab a towel for me?” She takes a wet paper towel and gently cleans off blood around the wound. “Okay, hon, I need you to bite down on this, okay?” She holds the towel to you, and you stare back at it in bewilderment. “I need to clean it, so it doesn’t get infected, okay? It’s going to hurt.”

More than it already is?

“Dodge,” She warns, signaling to hold me down. “Okay, hon, one-two-three—”

It pierced through you, your screams grating your throat as you bit down on the towel. Dodge held you in his lap, one arm wrapped around your front to keep you still. Your eyes burned with tears as she scrubbed away at the wound, the pain nearly pummeling you.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Dodge leans down to whisper to you, taking your hand into his. “She’s almost done.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” She stresses, “Any little bit of debris can cause an infection… Just need to make sure it’s all out.”

“What the fuck is this?” Dayna declares, appalled.

“Not now—”

“No, actually, what the fuck? What happened?—”

“She got hurt doing a challenge—it’s okay—” Dodge meets his sister’s piercing gaze from across the kitchen.

“She’s literally bleeding all over the floor—it’s not okay! Take her to the hospital!”

“We—” Dodge bites his tongue. The one place he wishes he could take you right now, he fears would result in the end of the game. “You know we can’t, Dayna—they’ll ask questions—"

“At what point is it worth it? Your girlfriend is hurt, Dodge. Is the money really worth her not getting actual help?”

And he knows it.

“I’m going to wrap it up, okay, hon?” She presses a towel back down on the wound; you wince instinctively. “Dodge, grab the dressing from the first aid kit.”

You pull the towel from your mouth, your hairline littered with beads of sweat. The worst is over, you think. You stay the night with Dodge that night, his mom coming in to check on you every so often. Dodge carries the guilt heavily on his chest, wishing he would have chosen differently. How could he ever choose the game over your wellbeing? Was the money really that important to him, that the moment your safety is on the line, he still tries to protect everyone else?  

[cadavercowboy]

To Serve And Neglect

Pairing: Sheriff Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: Lee Bodecker doesn't abide by the rule of never bringing your work home with you. He just wants to hang out!

Word Count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Description of reader’s clothing. Mentions of stalking. Implied drugging. Kidnapping & imprisonment. Light bondage. Brief use of ‘pup’ & ‘puppy’. Oral sex. Cum eating. Improper handling of a firearm. Dub-con/non-con elements.

A/N: Sorry. Can't explain. Feeling violent.

The strange, unsigned letters arriving each day in your mailbox had been odd. The expensive gifts and veritable garden of bouquets on your porch, a burden. But it is the partially open window — one which your paranoia had prompted you to lock and then check three times before bed last night — that is finally a bridge too far. 

Armed with a shoebox full of evidence and an armful of this morning’s flower delivery, you march through the doors of the police department and demand an audience with the sheriff. The poor deputy seated at the desk observes your irate countenance with a pair of raised brows, unmoving until you repeat your request more firmly. You wait only a few minutes before you’re beckoned down the hallway by a tall, uniformed man who introduces himself as Sheriff Bodecker.

You stride along behind him amidst the sound of your clicking heels and the whooshing of the poofy skirt of your patterned dress, the hem of which brushes the sheriff’s thighs as he invites you to step into the office ahead of him.

As you take a seat, you lay the paper-wrapped roses across his desk and set the overflowing box of stationary and notes alongside them, being careful not to knock the brass nameplate off the wooden surface. With a heaving sigh, Lee — according to aforementioned nameplate — rounds the desk and eases his weight down into a creaky high-backed chair.

“What can I do for you, miss?” he inquires dryly, seemingly uninterested.

Smoothing the soft fabric of your dress along your thighs, you sit up straighter and look the formidable man in the eye. It will do you no favors to appear weak and frightened, even if that is precisely what you are. You hope your feigned strength will make your claim more believable. 

“I need to file a report,” you begin confidently. “I’m being stalked.”

Lee’s eyebrows practically fly up into his hairline and he purses his lips as he contemplates your bold statement. He says nothing for a long moment and you feel yourself deflate slightly beneath his scrutinizing stare. You should have known a man wouldn’t believe your unsubstantiated claim, he’d simply write you off as hysterical.

Before you can accept your fate and leave the office with at least some of your dignity still intact, the sheriff leans forward. He braces his elbows on the desk and folds his hands beneath his chin.

“And all this?” he wonders, flicking a pinky out in the direction of the items you’ve laid out before him.

Hope renewed when he questions the evidence you’ve brought along, you’re quick to lift the top off of the old shoebox to reveal its contents. You aren't sure why you've kept them all, though you're suddenly glad you had. Inside is what must be hundreds of letters, notes, and cards. Of course you hadn’t taken the time to individually count them, but it's obvious the stationary within is numerous. Reaching in, you gather several pieces of paper off the top and hand them to the sheriff who takes the stack rather hesitantly.

“Someone has been sending me all these letters and notes. At first, I thought it was just some sort of practical joke,” you explain. “But what’s written in there…there are things no one could know unless they were…watching me.”

Your throat grows tight and your cheeks warm as you recall some of the things this mystery scribe had written, knowing that Lee now reads them too. The sender had begun to mention events from your daily life that no person could possibly know unless they were with you. As time passed, their letters grew in intensity; complimenting you in an intimate manner, noting various opinions on you and your ‘unbelievable beauty’ and even going so far as to name all the things they’d like to do both to and with you. 

What began simply as a strange correspondence quickly grew eerie and obsessive. They spoke of the sort of subjects you wouldn’t discuss with a close friend let alone reveal to a complete stranger, though you know the impropriety is necessary at this point.

Lee rifles through the letters before reaching into the box himself to explore further. His face is the picture of concentration as he scans each word and gathers an idea of what you’ve been dealing with. In one particular letter he unfolds, you recognize the haphazard state of the scribbled writing and how it appears to have been composed in anger. It is a letter whose inappropriate content you remember well and you feel a sudden need to distract Lee from his perusal.

“And there’s also the flowers,” you offer, fingers tapping on the bouquet’s wrappings. “Every single day, there’s more flowers.”

The sheriff lifts his gaze from the crumpled sheet clutched in his hand and his eyes flick between you and the fresh flowers. His expression reveals nothing as he places the letter on the desk and leans back in his chair.

“So you’ve got a secret admirer.”

You flinch as if you’ve been hit with a physical blow. How could he possibly reduce your predicament to something so innocent and juvenile? Had he even read those letters?

“Sir…with all due respect, I’m concerned for my safety,” you declare. “Some of the more recent letters imply that this creep wants to reveal his identity to me! Look right here, this one especially!”

With a pointed finger, you jab the piece of paper and direct his attention to a letter that is borderline threatening. Sheriff Bodecker inhales sharply and offers a slow nod of his head as he shuffles some of the other discarded stationary across the surface of his desk. Interlocking his fingers, he reclines again and rests his hands across his belly while he regards you. 

“I suppose there are some unsettlin’ things in there,” Lee drawls. “But it all seems rather harmless and unfortunately, there ain’t much I can do if this person hasn’t taken any direct action.”

“They broke into my house,” you admit softly.

You aren’t sure why your voice wavers or your eyes moisten, but you suppose finally admitting it out loud to another person makes it undeniably real. Your stalker’s gifts had made you uncomfortable, but their gall to physically threaten you — no matter how indirect — and leave clear evidence of having done so has shaken you. 

“Broke in?” Lee nearly barks, straightening in his seat. “When was this? Why didn’t you say so?”

You explain the situation to Lee, detailing your certainty that you weren’t responsible for the open window. Having now heard something of substance, he finally takes out a sheet of paper and begins to document everything you’ve told him. You’re relieved that you’re being taken seriously, however Lee’s sudden concern has you even more fearful than before. By the end of your statement, your shoulders slump and your hands vibrate in your lap.

“I’ll have this report filed and send some officers to your address to check everything out,” he assures you as he takes notice of your distressed state. “Can I get you something warm to drink?”

You’re quick to accept the sheriff’s offer, opting for a cup of hot tea which he returns with shortly. He carefully hands the steaming mug over then disappears behind you to shut the office door with a soft click, closing you both off from the rest of the department. Before returning to his place behind the desk, Lee gently rests a large hand on your shoulder, his fingers gliding with ease as he rubs your back reassuringly.

"We'll get this all figured out, honey. Don't you worry."

Lifting the edge of the faded brown ceramic to your lips, you nod your head and take a tentative sip, doing your best not to wince. Although Lee asked how you take your tea, it tastes nothing like you expect. It’s awful, in fact. While the sweet flavor of sugar is present, the scalding liquid carries an underlying and off-putting bitterness. Still, you’re too polite to turn the drink down and so you daintily nurse the unfavorable beverage while Lee reads your statement back to you to ensure he has it exactly right. 

It’s unclear at first whether the fuzzy memory of the sheriff’s office was a dream or if the circumstance you currently find yourself in is one. The pressure of the dirty concrete floor is agonizing against the hardened curve of your bare knees, though it’s nothing compared to the fiery ache which zips along your shoulders. The muscles are tired and over-extended, your arms pulled high above your head where your rope-bound wrists hang from an iron hook on the end of a chain that’s affixed to the ceiling. 

Slipping in and out of consciousness, it’s impossible to know how long you’ve been strung up here like an animal awaiting slaughter. Only that it hasn’t been long enough for your poor muscles to go completely numb yet. Your joints ache mightily and your mouth is uncomfortably dry. You blink to clear your hazy eyes, but even then, your surroundings are totally unfamiliar. 

Pain spears through your shoulders when you shift your weight to look around, spotting very little that helps to identify where you are. A stack of dusty boxes fills one corner and a metal shelf strewn with various tools sits propped against the opposite wall. It’s clear you’re in a small basement, though you have no idea how you got here.

From behind you, a door creaks open and a band of golden light fills the room; growing broader and spanning the length of the cramped cellar before a loud slamming shrouds you back into darkness. Wooden stairs squeak and groan beneath someone of notable heft and your skin prickles as they descend and approach. The distinguishable click of a pull-switch overhead bathes you in a blinding halo of light.

“I could have been so sweet.”

The deep voice comes from right beside you and makes you jump. While its tone sounds vaguely familiar, you’ve yet to fully regain your facilities and it feels as if your ears are full of wet cotton. It's difficult for you to make the connection as to why you recognize it.

Scuffling feet shift and begin to step around you where your body practically dangles from the ceiling. You peer upwards, squinting against the brightness of the bare bulb that shines above you until the stinging in your eyes forces you to lower your gaze back to the floor.

“I gave you so much. So much of myself. So many gifts,” the man continues. “All you had to do was accept them…accept me.”

Your stomach drops and the words hit you like a barreling freight train. Your stalker. Squirming in your binds, you fruitlessly attempt to twist away from the dark figure which slips into your periphery. The movement is painful and when you try to shift your bare feet, you realize your ankles are lashed together with even more rope. A desperate whimper bubbles up in your throat.

“I didn’t ask for much in return. I just wanted you to be mine,” he insists, as if it were a small favor. “Now I won’t give you a choice.”

The man’s words darken with anger and when the light from above is blocked out by the mass of his body, you dare to look at him. Your eyes fall upon a pair of black-booted feet before moving upwards to a pair of dark gray slacks dissected by the tell-tale black line of uniform slacks. A sense of dread spreads like a growing chasm in your belly. 

Following the expanse of a pair of long legs, you observe a standard-issue utility belt and clench your teeth to hold in a frightened sob. If not for his terrifying declaration, the sight of a uniform man would have felt like a relief. You may have thought he was here to help you with your predicament. But given what he’s said, you know his intentions are much more nefarious.

Your eyes seem reluctant to move any further and you spend a long moment observing the yellowed buttons which secure the crisp material of his white shirt. Ultimately, you force yourself to gaze upon the face of your captor, already knowing what horror awaits you.

Even with the expectation of his identity, the revelation of Lee Bodecker’s ice-cold stare is sobering nonetheless. A quivering exhale escapes through your nostrils and you feel your lower lip tremble as he looms above you with an expression of disappointment and impatience.

“Sheriff?” you ask pointlessly, finding it difficult to believe this irrefutable truth.

Lee studies you with something ominous in his demeanor. So smoldering and rife with an indeterminate fire that you can almost feel its heat upon your skin. His eyes hone in on the uncertainty blanketing your face and you notice the ghost of a smirk haunting the corners of his pinkened lips. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he promises, stooping to kneel in front of you.

“Lee, please,” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t—”

He hushes you right away, furrowing his brows and bringing a single finger to his lips as he shakes his head. You snap your mouth shut and tears begin to well in your eyes. There’s nothing you can say to change his mind, that much is obvious. Your eyes return to the ground with a guilt you’re not sure you should even feel, though Lee’s demand brings your gaze back up.

“Look at me!” he barks impatiently as his hand flies out to cup your chin in his calloused palm. “Keep your eyes on me, just like that.”

You obey out of sheer terror, heart pounding and limbs shaking at the unwavering way he raises his voice. His thumb shifts from your chin to your lower lip where he toys with the soft flesh and presses the finger against your mouth until it grazes against your front teeth.

“If I let you down, will you be good?” Lee asks.

He lifts his chin upwards, gesturing towards your hands over your head. Watching intently, he smirks crookedly when you blink with wet eyes and nod in ardent agreement. The smile does little to offer you much relief or comfort. When Lee stands, you shift anxiously and the links of the chain overhead twist and pop. 

His fingers are rough but warm when he reaches for the rope wrapped tightly around your arms and begins to undo the knots. For a moment, you consider whether an attempt at escape is worthwhile.

You have no desire to stick around and see what Lee intends to do with you, though you’re uncertain if he plans to release your ankles and even provide the opportunity. Given the way your legs tingle, you’re not certain you’re even capable of outrunning him anyway. As if able to read your mind, Lee pauses and levels an admonishing look at you. Taking note of your diminutive expression, he carries on.

With your wrists finally freed, your arms drop to your sides and searing pain mingles with the relief you feel. Fire blazes through your muscles as sensation returns to your limbs and you can’t help crying out.

Lee kneels before you again and gathers each wrist, lifting them up to inspect the indentations left upon your skin. When he leans in and you can see he intends to bring your wounded skin to his lips, you yank yourself away from his grip. The momentum causes you to tip backwards where you catch your weight with your hands and begin — with much difficulty considering your bound ankles — to scoot away from Lee who watches with disapproval.

You make it only a few feet away from him before your back hits the cold, solid wall. Lee stands at his full height, taking the three steps it requires to crowd your space before he speaks.

“Now, I thought we agreed you’d be good,” he chides, his voice eerily flat.

Still following his earlier instruction, your eyes do not leave Lee’s face. Not when he sighs and tilts his head to look down at you like a misbehaved child. And especially not when his right hand drops to the front of his pants where he gropes himself through the starched material of his slacks. Even when a low groan rumbles in his chest and you have a pretty good idea of what’s happening, you still refuse to break eye contact.

Deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks before lowering the zipper with a grinding sound which seems to echo off the pervasive walls of tension that close in on the pair of you. If possible, your mouth grows even drier and as you work to produce saliva, you note that the bitterness you experienced earlier while drinking Lee’s proffered tea still remains. Lee enjoys observing the struggle that flashes across your face when his hand delves into the open fly of his pants to engulf his growing erection in his hand before freeing it from the tight confines.

You hadn’t wanted to look, but something comes over you and your eyes seem to move of their own volition. Lee allows your disobedience only so he can watch the shock and fear erupt in your eyes as he exposes his hardened cock to you, hissing as the turgid flesh catches on the coarse metallic teeth of his open zipper. 

Dragging his warm palm with agonizing slowness along his length, Lee plants a booted foot beside your bent knee, the motion causing the utility belt he still wears to shift and jingle. You want to move away from the nearness of his crotch, but with a slab of cinder block at your back, there’s nowhere left for you to go.

“You know, I planned to bring you home last night when I came to your house,” Lee admits, switching hands to work his other fist languidly over his cock. “But I got so distracted by those pretty lips. Spent all night watching them while you slept. Jerked off thinking about how they’d feel…how they’d taste. Next thing I know, sun is coming up and you’re starting to wake.”

The tears which had formed earlier spill from your eyes and roll in fat drops down your cheeks now; something which seems to satisfy Lee given his throaty groan. You’d come to the sheriff for his help and all along, he’d been the very epicenter of your worst nightmare. And now you have no way to escape him. He squeezes a shiny drop of precum from the tip of his swollen shaft before using his tight grip to angle his length expectantly in your direction.

“Show me what those pretty lips can do.”

You’ve hardly begun to shake your head when Lee’s free hand moves to settle on the butt of the gun secured at his hip. His sharp voice cracks through the air like a whip.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna say no.”

Although you’re terrified of the subtle threat he delivers with only a slight movement, you can’t possibly imagine Lee brandishing his weapon to control you. Surely, he couldn’t be that cruel.

You sniffle and let more tears fall, still making no obvious effort to acquiesce to his demand. Lee tries once more to direct his dribbling cock towards your mouth and you turn your head to the side at the last second. His tip drags along your cheek, leaving a warm wet trail across your skin.

This time, Lee’s threat is anything but idle. His gun slides from the holster with practiced ease before he’s holding it loosely, just inches away from your face. He scoffs coldly when you refuse to turn his way, outright denying him the acknowledgement you know he desires. Lee waves the revolver in front of your face, making sure he has your full attention before he opens the cylinder and shows you six clearly loaded cartridges. He watches a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks before snapping the gun shut once more.

“Open your mouth and pretend like you want it,” he growls. “I wanna hear you beg.”

Knowing you have no other choice, you relent. Turning back to him, you can only stare straight ahead at Lee’s thighs. You shift your weight forward and lift your hands, placing your palms against the muscles of his legs and dragging them from the tops of his thighs to his knees. Your voice is devoid of emotion or enthusiasm when you fulfill his order.

“Please, Lee.”

His chuckle is slick and cruel. Your tearful visage, scared eyes, and the humiliating way you paw at him like a pathetic animal has his blood pumping until his cock swells to the point of pain. He’s certain he’s never been so hard in his life.

“Aw, what a good little pup,” he praises, unable to resist teasing you for the demeaning way you perform at his feet. “Good puppies get treats. Are you gonna keep being good for me?”

Although you cry, you agree to his request. You’re too afraid to do otherwise and the ever-present weapon he holds prevents you from daring to deny him what he wants. Lee asks you once more to look at him, a condescending approval in his voice when he reminds you how good you are for listening.

“C’mon, open,” he prompts, the tip of his cock tapping against your mouth. “Wrap your lips around it.”

You’re hesitant at first, instinctively mashing your lips together against the attempted intrusion. He’s so close you can smell the scent of fresh laundry and feel the warmth that pours off of his broad body. Lee presses the swollen head more insistently to your mouth, though your brain refuses to allow your body to cooperate. Any inclination you had to continue defying his silent inquest is swiftly eliminated by the cold, hard steel pressing against your forehead.

As if flipping a switch, your mouth opens and allows entrance. The hot tip of Lee’s cock slides against you, just barely making contact with your tongue. His essence is slightly salty and causes your mouth to water, much to your horror. He makes no attempt to insert himself further, simply allowing the weight of his erection to rest along your lower lip.

Your obedience seems to appease him and he allows the muzzle of his revolver to slide from your forehead to your temple where it comes to rest firmly on the vein which throbs just beneath the delicate skin. Saliva begins to gather in your mouth and you’re on the verge of drooling all over yourself. Without prompting or permission, you close your lips around the ridged crown of Lee’s cock and he grunts in approval.

Almost on instinct, you use your tongue to form a light suction and begin to suckle gently at the first inch of the length which parts your lips. Your tongue swirls, swiping tenderly along the smooth and overly-sensitive flesh. Lee’s knees threaten to buckle as he watches you perform with uncertainty and as he feels himself edging closer and closer to orgasm, his thumb pulls back the hammer on the gun still situated at your temple.

The sound of the revolver cocking frightens you, certainly an indication that you’ve done something wrong. Worried that Lee is angered by your presumptive actions, you whimper and try to release him but his free hand swoops in to hold your jaw and keep you in place.

“Keep going, sugar,” he pleads breathlessly. “Keep being a good girl.”

He moves the gun again, this time wedging the hard barrel just under your chin. You begin to cry anew, your face twisted in fear that he may still choose to harm you even given your obedience. However, Lee shushes you and reminds you to continue what you’re doing.

“Just wanna see all of that pretty face when I cum,” he clarifies, evidently hoping his words will soothe you.

As his breathing grows labored and his thighs begin to twitch with his impending release, Lee’s demeanor changes and he becomes more intense. The fingers holding your chin tighten with uncomfortable force and he digs the revolver’s barrel so deeply into your neck that you can feel it shifting against every pulse of your artery.

“Gonna make me cum, baby. That’s it, keep sucking the tip,” he grunts. “Just the tip…that’s all you deserve. Don’t deserve the rest of me yet. But you will soon. Yeah, my good girl’s gonna earn it, isn’t she?”

Lee rambles dirtily, the vein that runs along the underside of his cock throbbing as he twitches between your lips. You suck harder then, prompting him to exclaim hoarsely and allow another inch of his erection to slip into the glorious wet warmth of your mouth. When his hands begin to shake, you worry about the loaded and cocked gun he still holds against you. There isn’t much time to consider it because Lee pulls out hastily, releasing your face and using that hand to furiously jerk himself off.

He pants and a broken sound stutters from his parted lips as the first hot spurt of his cum lands on your cheek. Whispering only to himself, Lee wrings every drop of his release over the planes of your face; each thick stream splashing wetly across the bridge of your nose and over the seam of your spit-slicked lips. When he’s finished milking his cock, Lee requests — with unexpected gentleness — for you to open your mouth yet again. Upon doing so, he uses his softening length to swipe across your face and push some of his seed into your mouth so it dribbles onto your tongue before he allows the flaccid appendage to drop from his hand.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” he praises under his breath, patting your head with something resembling affection.

To your surprise, Lee takes the gun still gripped securely in his other hand and drags the cold barrel along your cheek then down your jawline. He gathers some of the sticky drops from your face onto the black steel and lifts his weapon to observe the narrow barrel before bringing it to his own mouth. The tip of his pink tongue flicks out to trace the metal’s edge before he wraps his lips around the hollow opening much the way you’d just done to his dick and he sucks the firearm clean.

“Next time I’ll let you swallow all of me,” he offers unprompted as he finally holsters his weapon and readjusts his pants.

You’re unsure whether the invitation is meant to be some sort of reward or just another threat and your brows furrow in confusion. Though it’s nothing compared to the confusion you feel as Lee reaches to wrap the discarded rope back around your wrist. When he assures you that continuing to behave will mean he won’t have to tie you up again, you bite your tongue to stop yourself from outright begging him not to leave you in the cold and dark like his needy, forgotten pet.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[slashingdisneypasta]

Imagine your siblings child referring your F/O as their Uncle/Aunt because you two have been together so long !!

You've been together practically their whole lives, whether your F/O is good with/likes kids, they were always around when you babysat (Because you live together. Maybe they were helping you with your niece/nephew! Maybe they were just watching TV in the same room and got dinner ready so you could continue keeping an eye on the baby. Maybe they hid away in your shared bedroom the whole time but the child always knew they were there), they maybe even went to family gatherings with you!- they have just been a constant in your niece/nephews life. Just like you.

In this kids mind, you and your F/O are a package deal.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Taste of regret (Chapter 1)

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

Summary:

The same routine once a week, every Wednesday evening, since Travis started doing the shifts at the station with Hank. They drove to the only bar in North Kill to drink and play pool, throughout the whole night right until the bar closed.

Chapter 1 - Wednesdays

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2

[captaincaptainjill]

Travis Hackett Birthday Celebration - Day 1

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

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

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

[wibbley-wobble]

HOLY SHIT THEY MADE DARYL A PIG

[kisses4reid]

criminally hot | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get wrongfully accused by a sheriff, and it isn’t you who’s angriest. it’s your boyfriend who has to expose your relationship in order to clear you.

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, fluff, slight angst if u squint, angry reid x calm reader

wc - 1.2k

warnings - reader uses she/her pronouns, handcuffs, violence, a weird white man i know id be fucking scared as well, oh swearing as well.

a/n - i love u you’re so awkward i am doing so well bc of ur request, keep requesting things your brain is crazy. ummm anyways this is my first time writing this kinda thing omg how exciting okay start reading it wtf you still doing here?

request - ( from @babyoureahauntedhouse ) omg hii!!! :3 this is my first time requesting, so please excuse the awkwardness 😭😭😭😭 first of all, how are you????? i hope you’re doing amazing!!! absolutely no pressure, but can you do one where reader gets falsely arrested (not a huge thing, maybe in a police station at a small town or something) and spencer absolutely **loses** his shit at how she’s being treated????? like, she’s freezing and the sheriff or somethjng keeps pushing her and then he just bursts into the interrogation room and uncuffs her and it’s just very fluffy???? thank you!

Emily handed you your coffee with a smile, receiving a small thank you in return. It was warm in your hands and created a comforting contrast to the cool chill of the police precinct you were set up in.

Things were going well given that you’d only been in the small town for half a day. The team debriefed on the plane, but Aaron had been on the phone with the leading detective for at least an hour now asking him where he was.

Emily headed off to the restrooms when a slender hand made its way to your waist. You turned and felt your cheeks heat, knowing exactly who is was.

“Hi Spencer.”

“Hi Y/n.” His eyes held sweetness in the chocolate swirls, and you felt like a kid who had been given candy. Spencer and you had been dating for a few months, but somehow in a team of profilers you both kept things under wraps, even with Spencer’s clumsy touches and your lingering stares. “I wish we were home,” he whispered.

You glanced around for anyone who could witness your interaction and get suspicious, but you were mostly alone other than Hotch and some officers who were weirdly taking a lot of attention to you.

“Yeah me too. I’m feeling oddly popular and not in the good way.”

Before you could talk more or offer him a sip of your coffee (even if you know he doesn’t like it), Aaron calls his name and the slim tall boy scurries away with a straight face.

You turn to find something to do. To reread a case, to help someone fill out papers, to talk to Morgan or Garcia. You would’ve opted to huddling in your cardigan if a tall man didn’t interrupt.

“Y/n L/n?” He asked in monotone. His arms were at his sides, one hovering above a pair of cuffs that hung from his police belt. Furrowing your eyebrows you answered,

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“You’re under arrest for the robberies of…”

His voice pounded into the background of your head, thoughts attacking your eyes through a sudden headache as the words registered before you could help it. The room was silent except for the man’s voice, yet all you could hear was the furrow of eyebrows and quick approach of your boss, Aaron Hotchner.

“What’s going on here?”

“Your agent has been seen…”

You stood still as another officer came behind you and forced handcuffs onto your arms, gripping your wrists with unnecessary force that would surely leave bruises. You winced and looked between your boss and the officer, and then at Spencer, who was being pulled back by Morgan. He yelled your name in worry, witnessing the hardened grips on your body and rough pushing you were being subject to. Your coffee splattered on the ground, staining your white shoes.

There was only mumbles and white noise, as your eyes met with Spencer’s. The large officer behind you kicked your leg to get you moving, the shock glueing your shoes to the rubbery floor. And you almost didn’t even notice the hand on the back of your neck pushing you towards a dark room with a desk and two chairs.

You were so familiar with these rooms and yet it felt so different.

Of course, you didn’t actually do anything. And of course you attempt to clear that up to the officers who are slamming their hands on the table and screaming as much as they could, in a poor attempt to intimidate you.

Aaron was in the corner with a scolding face and hard hand to his chin, observing the situation with an intensity you barely ever see.

“Last month, you were seen at one of the houses that got robbed over night. You left a few days later, after also being seen at two of the other houses-“

“So she was seen at three of the ten houses robbed and you arrest her?” Aaron spoke up, bringing the men’s attention to your boss instead of you. You took the opportunity to look outside of the window.

Though it wasn’t clear, you could make out the outline of a tall boy you wished would just break into the room and save you.

And he did.

“Your evidence is illogical and childish. She’s an FBI agent for gods sake-“

“Anybody can be a suspect Agent Hotchner, even federal agents.” The tall one replied with a stubborn mumbled.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open and you were met with a disheveled Spencer panting with a red and severe face. He didn’t even bother looking at you before he starting schooling the men in blue, who at that point were glaring at him and attempting to look more intimidating than they actually were.

“I’ve read your files on this case and nothing links to Y/n L/n, not one-“

“There’s no way you read our-“

“I can read more in a minute than you can in a day, dickhead. Y/n was meeting old school friends when she was in town, we went to the Diner Inn afterwards and we met with her parents who have receipts for the meals because they’re-“ he turned his glance at you,” “sorry Y/n- they’re hoarders. You have nothing against her other than some positively reported visits and some photos of her hugging the house owners.” Spencer had slowly pinned the officers to the opposite wall unconsciously. It was hot. “I was there, I’m her receipt. And like her parents, she loves keeping those. So if you want to insist she’s your culprit, go for it. But your going against a man with eidetic memory and a lot of evidence.”

And while he was logical and correct, he was also a little too truthful.

The officers blinked in fear. Spencer definitely didn’t seem the type to yell or swear, so this clear, concise and undermining approach to the situation was somehow even scarier.

“Spencer,” you began, “thank you.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into empathy and care, “Of course.” His hands found a key in his back pocket as he approached you, starting to promptly uncuff you.

As Aaron continued to speak with the officers of their major mistake, Spencer took you outside of the room and into a private office. Your heart was racing, but it seemed Spencer was more stressed than you. He paced as you leaned onto the front of a wooden desk, hands over your chest as your eyes trailed Spencer.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I should’ve reacted faster, then you wouldn’t have been..” He stopped closely in front of you, his breath hot on yours as his gaze scoured over your body for injuries or bruises. “Are you okay?”

You smile calmly, “I’m fine. My leg hurts, and I think my wrists will be bruised, but I’m fine.”

He took your hands and rubbed his thumbs on your wrists carefully, causing butterflies to explode in your stomach.

“Thank you Spencer.” Your eyes dance with each others. “You were really hot. Maybe I need to get arrested more often.” You joke with a lift to your voice and a smirk, causing him to look down with a smile and shake his head.

“If being angry makes me hot maybe you should reevaluate what you-“

Your lips found his, you hand going to his bicep and his going to the back of your neck, before a clearing of the throat took you both out of your trances. It was Hotch.

“I’ve got some paperwork you both need to sign. About the arrest and,” his hand waved between you two, “this.”

Morgan stood behind Aaron with a smirk, leaving quickly to go tell Garcia that she had lost their bet.

taglist: @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

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

Finally, there were no more screams.

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

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

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

Tommy grunted.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

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

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

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

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

“Please,” you begged.

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

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

He huffed and put the mallet away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wriothesleybear]

Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ladywuvly]

barry sloane +au. +characters rec list!

masterlist. socials. recs.

head canons & imagines |

dbf!price boys your age by @captainfern

dbf!price shotgunning his cigar by @inkbybambi

dbf!price sugardaddy; part.2 by @faith369

bf!price headcanons by @empresskylo

landlord!price moving out by @gatorlovebot

husband!price darling wife by @ghosts-cyphera

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

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

tummy love by @stoutpancakes

truth or dare? by @soapyghost

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

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

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

eye contact by @kungfubarbie101

two is hardly a crowd by @grippingbeskar 

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

bartender by @sky-is-the-limit

rings by @glossysoap

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

just the tip, love by @floralpascal

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

taking his time by @empresskylo

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

cigar smoke and good sex by @lxvvie

helping hands by @deathsimage

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

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

fics |

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[yandere-writer-momo]

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

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

@amisalami03

First piece: You Are My Sunshine

Yandere Head Canon: Hold Onto Me

Yandere Dilf Sheriff x Afab Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[missjellyhead]

THOMAS HEWITT X READER | Thomas fucking fem!reader in the middle of the night.

note: I'm back AND I JUST WANT THOMAS FAT FUCKING DICK!

Warnings: nsfw, somnophilia, light dacryphilia.

Thomas is so obsessed with your pussy that he simply can't control himself.

He is constantly pushing his fingers between your wet folds, penetrating as deep as he can, just to feel how you squeeze them. He does this countless times whenever he takes a break from hard work.

Even at night, when you're sleeping peacefully next to him. Thomas hugs you from behind, trapping your smaller body against his chest.

He hopes you don’t get mad at him for touching you in your sleep. He will make sure to apologize later. You're so adorable now that he can't control the urge to fuck you, he can't control his own hands.

But the fact is that Thomas touches you slowly, his unmasked face pressed against your neck as he inhales your scent.

Thomas loves your smell! He could stay there for a few minutes, but his erection starts to bother him. He needs to be inside you as quickly as possible.

Thomas is trying not to lose control as he positions himself between your legs and pulls your pants down. Then he sees her naked pussy and, oh my God, he feels like a wild animal in heat.

He never had that feeling before he met you.

Thomas is always very concerned about making penetration as comfortable as possible for you. He knows he has a dick fat enough to make you cry if you're not properly prepared.

But to be honest, he hopes that his fingers inside you previously, even if for a short time, were enough.

It was not enough.

Because when he takes his dick out of his pajama pants and sticks it in your waiting hole, you suddenly wake up with a start, letting out a tearful scream.

But don’t worry, it’s just your grown man trying to relieve his own lust.

Thomas looks at you in silent apology, but doesn't stop pushing to give you time to adjust.

He holds your arms, guiding them to his own shoulders, encouraging you to hold him firmly.

And you do.

And Thomas wastes no time in accelerating his movements.

He hopes you don't make too much noise, or you'll wake up the other family members. Privately, he hopes Hoyt doesn't wake up. Oh, that old sheriff is definitely the locksmith type, and no one can tell me otherwise!

He places a large hand over your mouth, muffling your tearful but undeniably needy sounds.

You're just a sweet little thing who needs to cum, aren't you? But look, Thomas has worked so hard all day, he's so tired and needy. ~ Isn't it fair that he cums first?

Your pleasure always comes first for him, but tonight you will have to wait a little.

He will reward you, don’t worry.

Thomas grabs your legs and pushes them up, leaving you as exposed as possible. He needs more space to fuck you properly. He wants to make sure he's getting his dick as deep as possible.

Thomas closes his eyes tightly, feeling your hot, wet walls squeezing his dick.

He usually lasts a long time, but now he is completely desperate.

He looks at you, all sweaty and cute thrown on the sheets just for him. He can see a tear running down his face and makes sure to wipe it away quickly. Are you crying because it feels so good or is it just a vestige of the initial pain? Thomas is in doubt, until he hears you moan against his hand in such a lascivious way.

This view combined with your delicious pussy is enough to make him cum.

In a few seconds, you feel Thomas’ sperm filling your hole to the limit.

When he pulls out, cum oozes out of your pussy, running down the curve of your ass and dripping onto the sheets.

Thomas uses his fingers to push the cum back into her pussy.

Even though Thomas is panting now, exhausted and ready to sleep, he keeps stroking your butt, just to make sure you feel good enough.

Then he looks at you and tilts his head to the side.

Do you know what he means: do you need to cum or are you too tired to do so? He just needs your confirmation.

If you are tired, still a little drowsy and prefer to go back to sleep, he will hug you and pull you close. He will rub your back until you fall asleep. However, Thomas will still want you to feel great the next day when you are finally rested. He will make you cum as many times as you want.

But if you're already wide awake after he fucks you like a damn fleshlight, then he'll be between your legs in the same second, sucking your pussy. Thomas doesn't even care about tasting his own cum. He never said anything, but he thinks it's better that way, because he can taste the mixed tastes, yours and his.

sorry for any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language

[javierpena-inatacvest]

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

Status: Ongoing

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

Main Story:

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

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

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

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

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

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Spin-Off Series:

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

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

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

[anothertimdrakestan]

Pinky Promise - Damian Wayne x Reader !Soulmate AU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You live in the area?"

"Nope, Gotham."

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

And he did.

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

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

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

And there he was again. Holding a sketchpad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait." he took a step back.

You took one forward, reaching for the glove yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Quite the wingman" you mused.

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

[captaincaptainjill]

Travis Hackett Birthday Celebration - Day 2 

Travis Hackett x gn!reader (nsfw)

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

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

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

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

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

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

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

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

"I'm just curious."

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

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

"You asked." He sasses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

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

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

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

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

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

four Mississippi

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

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"C'mon, you paid for it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh sure," He swallows

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

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

"There's some text under my boobs."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No (Y/n),"

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

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

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

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

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

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

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

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

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

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

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

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

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

"Spenc- Uh"

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

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

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

"There's other people around, Spencer."

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

"Sit still." He commands

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

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

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

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

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

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

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

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

"Yeah, and now you will be."

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

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

"How are you doing, Reid?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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