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sanctusinferi · 1 year ago

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To Serve And Neglect

Sheriff Lee Bodecker x Reader | WC: 4.5k+ | Explicit Content

Summary: Lee Bodecker doesn't abide by the rule of never bringing your work home with you. He just wants to hang out! Warnings: 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI. 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

#ashamed to admit how many weeks i spent opening this doc like a hundred times a day #it isn't as good as i wanted but here we are anyway #sheriff lee bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker smut #sheriff lee bodecker x reader smut #lee bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker fanfiction #sheriff lee bodecker fanfic #the devil all the time #the devil all the time fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan

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sttoru · 3 months ago

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𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. nanami kento always hurries home towards his pregnant wife, you, to compensate for the time he spends at work.

tags. sheriff!kento nanami x pregnant wife!reader. fluff, sfw. wild west!au. girl dad kento lets go. reader gets called ‘sugar, darling, wife’. not proofread. wc around 1k

you’re comfortable laying on the couch, nibbling on a piece of bread, when you hear the familiar footsteps on the porch of your cozy home. the front door opens with a faint creak and reveals no one other than your husband, kento, in his work uniform. he’s home earlier than he normally would be.

“evenin’, sugar,” kento steps into the house, his tall frame filling the doorway. he looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his exhausted face as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out on the couch.

his eyes soften when they land on the swell of your belly–reminding him of the life you’ve created. both you and the child growing in your stomach are the reason why he works so hard every day. to provide for you and make the pregnancy as easy as possible for your body.

“hi, honey,” you greet him back with a big smile, “how was work?”

it never fails to make you happy; seeing your husband back home after spending the first half of the day alone. knowing kento is out there making sure you and your baby have food on your table at the end of the day is heartwarming.

kento closes the door behind him and the latch clicks into place. “the usual. nothin’ out of the ordinary today. thank the lord,” he answers. he sets his stetson hat down on the hook near the entrance and starts unbuckling his gun belt, the weight of the revolver and ammunition clinking softly. he hangs it up carefully before taking a couple steps towards you.

“aht-aht, don’t ya go gettin’ up now, sweetheart,” kento chuckles as he notices your attempts to get up to greet him like you usually would do. before your belly got this heavy, that is.

he holds out a callused hand towards you, silently urging you to take it. the last thing he wants is for you to pull a muscle. “i’m right here,” he reassures you as he kneels down in front of the couch.

you lean in for a kiss and your husband instantly does the same. his lips linger on yours for a good few seconds before he pulls away. he cups your face with one hand while the other comes to rest on your rounded belly, palm molding to the gentle curve of it.

“y’re getting’ more beautiful every day,” kento praises in a low yet soft voice. he dips his head to press a kiss to your stomach and closes his eyes, “our little girl ‘s also growing well in there, hm?”

“of course,” you reply with a giggle. your hand comes to cover the one on your belly, your hand smaller than your husband’s. your wedding rings shine beneath the sunlight filtering through your windows and it reminds you of the love you share for each other. your eyes meet kento’s and you’re about to lean in for another kiss when you feel your child kick.

kento’s eyes widen the second he feels a small but distinct movement beneath your belly, your child stirring within you. a slow smile spreads across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners before he glances up at you with pure adoration. “that–” the blonde man doesn’t finish his sentence, simply looking back at your stomach with pure love and wonder. his thumb gently rubs small circles over the spot where your child had just made her presence known.

“that was our little girl saying hi to her daddy,” you comment with a giggle. you said it half-jokingly, but kento seems to have taken it seriously.

you’re not sure if he’s fighting the tears or if he’s just blinking rapidly and turning his head sideways so you wouldn’t see the emotions playing out on his face. probably both.

kento clears his throat before nodding. he rests his head gently against your stomach, stubbled jaw tickling your bare skin. “hi there, baby girl. You recognised my voice there, didn’t ya?” he chuckles softly, his voice raw with emotion that he tries to suppress. you can’t see his face like this, only the top of his head, but you’re sure that he’s experiencing all kinds of things at the moment.

you run your fingers through his fluffy blonde strands, the hair gel he uses in the morning almost gone by now. a few seconds pass and another faint kick on the side of your belly makes your husband’s breath hitch. it never fails to fascinate him, to make him feel a great sense of joy.

“i can’t wait to meet ya too,” kento continues, holding a conversation with your unborn daughter like she’s responding to him. in a way she is, with the occasional kick. he sighs in pure content as his muscular arms wrap around your middle, keeping you close to him while he kneels in front of you.

what he’s feeling is indescribable. a couple moments pass before he tilts his head back to face you again. you cup his face and rub at his cheekbones, smiling at the loving way he’s staring at you. “you’re gonna be a great father, ken,” you whisper. you’re sure of it. he’s a great husband and will be the best father to your child.

kentk smiles back at you and nods. “thank you. I will try my best, for both of you,” he replies with a determined glint in his brown eyes. his large hands massage your belly before giving it a final kiss. “I promise,” he whispers against your sensitive skin.

it’s a promise he will keep no matter what, until he draws his last breath on this earth.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk fic #nanami fic #jjk x female reader

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simpforboys · 7 months ago

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nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

#simpforboys #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #obx #obx4 #drew starkey

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oikarma · 2 months ago

Text

sports car

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the one where lando gets outed for having a crush on his teammate's little sister.

a/n: bro it's been stuck in my head for a solid week now

liked by vogue and others

yourinstagram my vogue beauty secrets tutorial is out 🪽 all products used are linked below! thank you so much for this opportunity, was insane to me when i was informed of it and still very much is!

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user1 not fair. why is everyone on insta a freaking model

user2 where's the gold necklace from? thanks queen love you <3

yourinstagram it's from brandname brandname 😉 y/n piastri repping our gear? this calls for a c...o...l...l...a........

user3 drop the skincare routine too

user4 y/n are you ever going to a grand prix?

user5 she was at oscar's f1 debut user4 yeah but never again user4 she shouldn't be too busy as a part-time influencer like

vogue we're so glad you agreed 🤍

yourinstagram kisses!

user6 my gf (real)

user7 wait. wait. why is a vogue beauty secrets video title the way i find out y/n is a formula 1 driver's sister?

user8 well tbf she doesn't usually use her full name, probably not to seem like she's mooching off his success yk user9 no girl you're good i realized that a month ago when someone posted an edit of her and tagged it with her full name

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram best brother 🧡 yay points

tagged: oscarpiastri

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user1 she took the comments about her not showing up to his races personally

user2 wait. y/n is his sister?? user3 oscar you thought you ate

user4 forget f1 drivers i want THIS GIRL

user5 hope you had fun !! thank you for taking a photo with me and my friends liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram i did and i hope you did too 🫶 no worries, you both were v polite and absolutely stunning user6 she's so sweet aww

oscarpiastri I think this is your first post without any selfies. Congrats.

yourinstagram are we not partially the same people yourinstagram i thought you were smart? oscarpiastri I don't think that's how it works.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by yourinstagram and others

lando on the move

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user1 i was not familiar with your game

user2 lando whoreizz more like? dang.

user3 I AM GOING FERAL NO ONE CAN HOLD ME BACK

user4 wait guys y/n piastri liked this 😭

user5 i pray the next time i accidentally make an idiot of myself on live stream my crush will notice me too user6 lmaooo help

user7 who are you posing for? y/n?

oscarpiastri Attention whore yourinstagram the girls are fighting!! user8 this cannot be real. polite piastri just called his teammate an attention whore user9 y/n u are so real for that

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by badgalriri, lando and others

fentybeauty Y/N Piastri is the new face of Fenty Beauty. @/yourinstagram

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 i just want to be a nepo baby.

user2 well y/n isn't really a nepo baby user3 nepo sister? user4 most of her image is built around her as js herself i think it's only recently (after her appearance at a gp) that people realized she was oscar piastri's sister cause they don't look alike and she usually only goes by y/n

user5 STUNNERRR

user6 am allowing myself to be influenced

user7 be so fr right now what is lando doing in the likes

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by oscarpiastri and others

lando austin, tx

tagged: oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell

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user1 oscar? in a cowboy hat? oh i folded my ovaries exploded i swore i was wearing clothes

lando i think you've got a fan, mate @/oscarpiastri oscarpiastri That's very kind of you

user2 the only time america serves

user3 is when a fucking brit comes over user4 live laugh love lando

user5 good luck at COTAS!! papaya army will be cheering for you *liked by lando

user6 soooo lando have you shot your shot yet?

user7 pardon? user6 i mean has he officially tried to hit on y/n yet user7 no way. she's too nonchalant to date him. piastri siblings do be the coolest crushes fr

mclaren see you, sheriff

lando this town ain't big enough for us two

user8 love to see oscar hanging out w landos friend group

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourinstagram you taste like the 4th of july

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user1 Y/NNN ARE YOU GOING TO COTAS??

user2 she must be i don't think she's ever been to the us before user3 queen y/n in mclaren paddock i'm calling it

user4 hold up am i reaching but lando posted burger joint milkshakes and she posted a burger joint and

user5 i really hate to break your bubble but there's literally no evidence to suggest they were at the SAME burger joints user6 its america its all fast food.

user7 so stunningg

oscarpiastri So you ignore your debts and post instagrams

yourinstagram what debt 😭 i paid for your concert tickets no?? oscarpiastri I paid for my concert tickets yourinstagram well we paid for each other's concert tickets yourinstagram you're jokign right do you hate me that much oscarpiastri I just wanted you to respond to me yourinstagram okay 😔 sorry brotha

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

yourinstagram came to support the fam

tagged: mclaren, oscarpiastri, lando

mclaren we are so glad you did 🧡

yourinstagram the teddy is so cute i'll sleep with it every night! tysm for the wonderful welcome user1 aww

oscarpiastri I'm emotional now. Get me a tissue, please. I can't believe my sister cares about me.

yourinstagram the combination of perfect punctuation and capitalization really hit the mark. user2 he's so silly user3 oscar bfr you're glad she's finally started coming to ur races often

lando am i the fam

yourinstagram gosh i hope we're not related that would make it weird user4 well you guys are pretty close to alabama liked by yourinstagram user4 HELP??

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

lando soon.

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user1 ? soon ? as in ? coming soon ?

user2 bro if he looked at me like that

user3 oscar can you explain your boyfriend's cryptic captions

yourinstagram soon.

user4 HELLO? user5 did she just acknowledge his existence user6 tf you mean soon girl lando soon. yourinstagram soon. lando soon. user7 they need help oscarpiastri You see what I have to put up with every day of my life?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram i think you know what this is

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user1 y/n and tate?

user2 the crossover we never knew we needed

user3 WAITTT YK HOW TATE HAS HER NEW MV AND SHE'S TEASING A MCLAREN DRIVER WHAT IF OSCAR OR LANDO'S DATING HER??

user4 i like the way your mind works user5 that's so awkward for her lol if it's oscar "cool you're shagging my brother" user6 or maybe it's lando probably? because he posted soon on his instagram user7 but doesn't lando have a crush on y/n? or is it not confirmed user8 girl idk

user9 baddieeees

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by tatemcrae and others

yourinstagram SPORTS CAR.

everybody say THANK YOU TATIANA ♡ seriously, what did i deserve to get to know her? she has put out a killer album, danced her ass off in stilettos, and did so during a non-stop tour. now she's starting another one. respect, a whole cartload of it.

but a little recap: obviously, tate wanted a driver in her music video about a SPORTS CAR. lando's team was up for it. tate (being respectful, she literally had no reason to do this whatsoever except for that fact that she's an amazing person and so very considerate) asked me to film it with lando instead. for "chemistry' and blah but again, THANK YOU TATIANA we say in unison.

hope you enjoy the music video and the song!

tagged: lando, tatemcrae

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tatemcrae there was no need to write a whole paragraph but i appreciate your recognition ♥️ considering an acting career anytime? love you loads

yourinstagram while the answer is yes, unfortunately i don't think anyone else will be considering it for me 🤪 tatemcrae also you fine asf yourinstagram u too bae rahhh user1 i love them sm

user2 that's so nice of her

user3 like i'm sure y/n would've been fine with her but giving up an MV for an actor's gf is crazy user4 i mean...it paid off. the chemistry is INSANE user5 need a man to hold me how lando holds y/n

user6 oscar jack piastri, how are you holding up?

oscarpiastri Have been avoiding the video. Have not been entirely successful. user7 LMAO poor boy lando sorry mate oscarpiastri You're not sorry in the slightest yourinstagram just close your eyes

lando thank you tatiana for orchestrating a music video for me and my girlfriend you're the goat

tatemcrae i think you're just glad you got to hard launch her this way, but you're welcome user8 y/n never called him her boyfriend BUT GUYS THiS iS CONFIRMATION THEY ARE DATING lando yes i'm her boyfriend she's my girlfriend. in case the making out and monkey business did not make that clear! user9 "monkey business" i cant anymore with him ✋

lando @/yourinstagram mommy? sorry-mommy? sorry-

yourinstagram shameless, i tell you. shameless. do it again.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

#lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #lando norris #oscar piastri #mclaren #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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graciedollie · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do all the major milfs x reader and like we getting pass around like a drink. ☺️😵‍💫

Taker

pair: arcane!milfs x reader

summary: it was your usual day like any other in the brothel, dealing with usual customers and having to deal with their requests, though, that would change when you saw four new faces..

warnings: 18+ content, reader is a prostitute, strap-on usage, fingering, overstimulation, BRIEF shimmer usage (NOT A LOT I PROMISE), reader literally gets passed around…, rough (wo)manhandling, praise, degradation, and probably more.

a/n: hope you enjoy and this lowkey may be long!!! also I recommend listening to Life Of The Party By The Weeknd for this (obsessed with this damn song).

I'm so far gone and you are too

Show me how you go downtown

With the drugs in your body

Take that step, you're the life of the party

Know that step, you're the life of the party

It was a busy day at the brothel. Women and men, who worked there, were bustling with customers left and right—one lea, just for another to enter. It was busy, that’s for sure. With you, you had the same old customers, sometimes new faces appeared before you—other than that, it was just the usuals. It made money, yeah, but it was boring as shit sometimes.

That was until you saw four new faces.

Ambessa Medarda, fearless warlord, known for her power and resilience. Cassandra Kirammin, Piltover’s beloved council member, known to be quite the charming and strong woman. Sheriff Grayson, one of Piltover’s best sheriffs, very known down in Zaun and Sevika, pretty well known down here as well, known to be quiet ‘the scary lady’, but also holds a good loyal to her.

It was an odd arrangement, but you didn’t really complain since you knew that it would be good money—especially if they were from Topside. Though, it did make you wonder why they would all come to you out of everyone else, maybe because you just so happened to catch their eye? Who knew?

You tried not to think much of as you got yourself ready in your little booth. Putting on your mask and applying some lipstick that matched your baby blue lingerie set—leaving nearly nothing to be hidden. Eyeing yourself a couple times and spraying some perfume on before taking a quick breath of shimmer—amping you up a little, you finally made your way to the room where you found the four woman, looking over at you with a darkened gaze as you stepped in.

“So this is the one you’ve suggested, I suppose?” Cassandra would murmured lowly as she gaze you up-and-down look, taking in your stature—feeling quite pleased with the mere sight before her. “Mhm, quite the sight, yeah?” Sevika quipped back with a proud smirk, taking a puff of her cigarillo before stumping it out on the ashtray besides her.

Grayson and Ambessa just silently observed you with a predatory gaze, thinking of all the things that’ll go down this very night. A smirk crept along Ambessa’s lip as she stood up, stalking over to you with slow, heavy footsteps of her boot till she stood in front of you; grasping your chin firmly. “I take it you can handle all of us, child?“ God you nearly felt your knees buck as her peering eyes met yours, looking down at you with a sultry gaze.

You cleared your throat briefly as you nodded, “Of course, I can assure you that I’ll make it worth your time…” You trailed off with a sultry tone, eyeing the other three as you continued. “Each and everyone of you..” The other women shared looks between themselves before nodding in agreement, sharing a nonverbal thought before looking back at you with that same gaze, “Is that right?” Grayson soon spoke up, her husky and raspy voice sending chills up your spine.

Oh this was gonna be fun.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You found yourself seated on Ambessa’s lap while seated on the bed, back pressing against her ample chest as she bullied two fingers into your sopping cunt—earning whimpers and moans from you. For once, you felt embarrassed with how you felt exposed with the other women watching you closely—watching with that hungry glare. “Look at you…takin me all in so nicely. I bet you never did this with any other customer, have you, child? Never made you feel as good as this, hm?” All she was returned with was a whimper and a shake of your head.

She wanted a solid answer.

Her fingers slipped out of you to land a slap to your clit, making you cry out and squirm in her grasp. “I asked you a question. Do not make me ask again.” “N-no! Never felt this way…t-this good!” She hummed in approval and slipped the thick digits back into your welcoming cunt, cringing at the squelching noise.

Sevika eyes stayed stuck on yours, particularly on the way your expression was filled with bliss and ecstasy whenever Ambessa would thrust her finger repeatedly in that spongy spot that made you see stars. She and Ambessa shared a glance before Sevika made her way up to you, suddenly pulling you into a messy, rough kiss—moaning and groaning into the feverish kiss. Your fluttering eyes peered open to glance at the other, Grayson and Cassandra. The mere sight of them made you throb. Both women hands roamed over their bodies as their lips locked—sensing that they definitely had some sort of ‘fling’, but we keep that hush here.

Ambessa eyes watched the two of you share the messy kiss together, watching in pure satisfaction and pleasure as she watched your body jerked when her thumb strummed over your throbbing clit. “Quite responsive…how cute.” Sevika lips pulled from yours, panting heavily before she leaned to attack your neck with feverish bites and kisses—warning whimpers and groans from you. Your hips jerked and thighs twitched as you felt the fiery sensation burn in your stomach, “G-gonna cum…p-please..”

A small hum escaped Ambessa’s lip at your breathless pleads, practically relishing it all in. “Mm, should we let our precious cum or no?” She hummed to the others, all three exchanging glances before giving a knowing glare to her—this wouldn’t be the only you’ll time you’ll be cumming anyway, so she let you have it. Your vision blurred with spots of black and white, feeling your body lock up with a broken moan leaving you; feeling your body shudder with impact of the orgasm. It nearly left you utterly breathless.

Sevika lips finally pulled away from your neck, relishing your heaving chest and marked neck and jaw—the sight made her clit throbbed in her boxers. “Felt good, didn’t it, babydoll?” She murmured lowly, grasping your cheeks and cupping them to make your lips puff. You gave her a small nod, looking at her as if she held everything just with the palm of her hand.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s gonna get even better.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“That’s it…”

Ambessa drawled out with that sultry tone as you licked feverishly at her soaked pussy, holding your head in place with a firm hand as your eyes fluttered up at her—never leaving hers. “Doing so well …” The praise of her felt absolutely heavenly, along with the way Sevika thrust were deep and rough, hitting that spot repeatedly with the faux dick. Your muffled moans vibrated against Ambessa’s soaked flesh, earning low moans and grunts from her. Your eyes teared up as Sevika placed her flesh hand on the small of your lower, pressing you deeper into an arch and allowing her to hit deeper.

“Yeah, there you go….takin it so good. Justttt like that, baby.” The way her voice flowed through your ears made your eyes roll back, whining and moaning to no end. Your lips latched onto the warlord’s clit as you suckled on it with steady licks, feeling her body tense and lock up as you watched her throw her head back—seeing the way her throat bobbed and jaw clenched. Tightly grasping at her toned thighs, you double down on your efforts. Your tongue slipped inside her and slurped messily and nosily, moaning and whining as Sevika’s thrust became more rough. “Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little careless with the girl, no?” That familiar voice rasped out, Grayson, who was nearly breathlessly after the little session between her and Cassandra. Sevika shared her a glance before chuckling lowly, suddenly slapping your ass and making you jolt, but Ambessa held you in place just for her.

“Course not. She’s a big girl.” She leaned down against your ear as her flesh hand snaked between your trembling legs and rubbing your aching clit in time with her thrusts, “I know she’ll take it anyway.” A small whine slipped from you at her whispered words, feeling that fiery sensation build up quickly. Ambessa’s thighs locked around your head as her body tensed up, feeling the taste of her gush into your mouth as her own body reached its limit. You followed shortly after. Your vision blurred with spots of white and black, cumming with a muffled cry as your thighs shook and trembled. Sevika pulled out a little, just to see the white ring coat her strap perfectly. “That’s what I wanted to see..” She groaned lowly before suddenly sinking back in, making you grasp Ambessa’s thighs tighter and body to jerk before she placed a hand on your lower back to keep you steady. “No, no—you can take it.”

You shook your head with protest as she slowly thrusted in and out of you, whining and whimpering as the rigged veins rubbed your sensitive walls and hit that certain spot. “I—oh fuck—I-I can’t…” Ambessa took hold of your chin, gazing into your teary eyes with a lustful glint. She pulled you from her thighs and close to a firm, feverish kiss—muffling your whiny protest. With each thrust, the base of the strap kept hitting Sevika’s clit over and over again; earning groans and low moans from her.

“Now, now, child. You’ll take what we give you.” Ambessa chided with a low tone as she pulled away from the kiss, seeing how your eyes were barely even able to focus on her.

She couldn’t have that.

Her palm came down on your cheek, sending stinging shivers to your cheeks, making you alert once more. “There she is..” Your teary eyes gazed up at the woman like a puppy begging for permission, making her smirk at the mere sight. “Ohhh…is Sevika being too rough with you?” She murmured with a low murmur, brushing her thumb over your tear-struck cheeks and smudged the runny mascara. “M-mhm! Y-yes—oh fuck—please!” Your whines and whimper spurred the women on, feeling how Sevika thrusts became more feverish and uncoordinated; making your head swarm. “S-shit…” Was all the woman behind you could groan out before her hips stuttered as the orgasm hit her, lazily rutting against you before she slowly pulled out—admiring the mess before being interrupted.

“Isn’t it rude to hog, hm?”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Your face was buried deep between Grayson’s thighs as she settled on your face, hungrily licking and sucking at her soaked core as Cassandra’s leg was thrown over yours, holding your leg around her waist as her clit bumped with yours in a rhythmic motion. Your head was swirling with the overwhelming sensation. Moans and groans filled the room of the three of you as the other two watched closely while openly touching themselves—it was definitely quite the sight.

Grayson fingers tugged at your hair as you held onto her thighs tightly, moaning into her cunt as she would grind against the velvety tongue, “That it…there you do, doin so—mgh—good..” Hearing the way her raspy voice filled your eyes made your clit throb against Cassandra’s clit, making her moan at the sensation. “I—oh god—think she likes it, dear…” Cassandra slender fingers trailed up and down your trembling legs, occasionally placing sweet kisses up and down the shaky muscle.

Your ears picked up the faint sounds of low moans and heavy breathing, peeking from Grayson thighs to look over and see the other women enjoying themselves—knuckles deep into their cunt, seeing how arousal coated the curly bush of hair.

The sight nearly made you cum right there and then.

Cassandra’s slender fingers slipped up to your breast, brushing over your hardened nipples with a gentle touch; making your hips jerk. “T-that’s it, lovely…just like that—ah!” Her head fell back as your husk bucked up to her, making your clits bump perfectly together in the perfect motion. A whimper erupted from your mouth at the shrill of electric shooting through your weary body.

Grayson settled further down on your mouth as you stopped briefly, “C’mon, love—there you go—shit…” A shaky breath fell from her lips as you resumed your ravenous pursuit to her clit, feeling the way her body tensed up and breathing became rigged.

Your thighs started to tremble with the way Cassandra started to roll and grind her clit over yours in a steady motion, feeling the slick run down to your ass—making a mess of the sheets once more. “Look at that. Such a dirty—f-fuck—girl, yeah?” Your ears picked up the sound of Sevika low tone, hearing the low moan that threatened to escape her mouth as you knew she was getting closer herself, along with Ambessa. Feeling the way Grayson thighs tensed around your head, you knew she wasn’t far either—nor were you or Cassandra as the pornographic noises became more louder. A low moan—nearly a shuddery breath—fell from Grayson’s mouth as her thighs locked up around your head.

And then it happened.

Hush of liquors spurred from her spasming hole as her thighs trembled alongside your head, weakly grinded against your mouth as she rode the waves of the organs out; breathing heavily as your bleary eyes looked up at her—seeing beads of sweat on her neck and forehead, the way her eyes fluttered with a daze, and how her breathing was shaky. Meanwhile, Cassandra rolled her hips with a quicker, but steady pace as she felt that hand in her stomach tighten—tighten—and tighten till she came crumbling down, letting out a soft moan that became louder as she continued to grind against you—making you whimper loudly as you suddenly felt that tingling sensation in you erupt.

Grayson slowly settled off you as you moaned and whined to no end, body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm—leaving you feeling practically boneless. Cassandra’s face was flushed as a rose, panting heavily as her own thighs trembled, slowly moving off you before laying down beside you as the three of you panted like an overworked dog. You stared up at the ceiling with a dazed gaze as your ears ringed, slowly tuning back in as you started to slowly started to fall back in. Your eyes flickered over to the Sev and Bessa—seeing the complete between their thighs and pools of liquid dripping onto the floor.

Someone definitely gained some regulars.

hope you enjoyed bbys!!! (sorry ts took so long to publish UGHHH) <3

taglist 🏷️!! @supalcina @abbyslvrrr @zthebean27 @ivorydevil @halle5s @tqlepatia @jhyoos @haruko--bby @madewithsilk

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kisses4reid · 1 year ago

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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

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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cherrygirlfriend · 4 months ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ little thief

pairing: sheriff!rafe x reader synopsis: the sheriff catches reader trying to steal warnings/tags: smut! piv MDNI! wc: 600 a/n; this was originally a personalized fanfic for my friend gabby; can yall guess what character it’s about? happy international women’s day!!

rafe cameron masterlist ♡

you'd done this plenty of times and hadn't gotten caught; so what difference was a damn 80 cent can of tomato sauce? your lips were scrunched as a sturdy man you immediately recognized as the sheriff strutted into the backroom of the store.

"leave us alone, will ya?" sheriff cameron practically demanded of the cashier, the younger man widening his eyes, his gaze drifting from you to the sheriff, before he nodded, striding out of the room. rafe looked at you with a small chuckle leaving his lips, "so, apparently you're a thief now, huh?" the man cocked his head to the side, all air leaving your throat.

"y-yeah..." you mumbled, your cheeks warming up as you bit down on your lip momentarily, trying to find an explanation for it, "i'm sorry, sheriff, i just... wanted to make a nice dinner. spaghetti bolognese."

the sheriff cupped your chin, lifting it up so you were facing him, your teeth biting down on your lower lip, your eyes wide and sparkling under the yellow light, "maybe you can make it up to me..."

"how?" your words were muffled by the hum of the air conditioner, yet as he brought his lips down to yours, you didn't resist.

"like this." rafe mumbled against your lips as he scooped you up into his arms, switching your positions so he was the one sitting down, your body straddling him.

you could feel the man’s hard cock against your core, and even though you told yourself you didn't want it, you kept rolling your cunt around his erection.

cameron chuckled, his calloused hand moving to your core as he gripped the lace of your panties, pulling them aside. one of his thick fingers plunged into your sopping wet cunt, making you gasp, only for him to let out a small laugh as his middle finger filled you up.

"you want me to swap that out?" the sheriff mumbled as you ground down on his fingers even harder, only for him to take out his fingers, making you whine. "relax, baby..." the man mumbled, unbuckling his belt as it met the floor, lifting up his hips as he pulled his jeans down.

you ground down on his cock, sheriff cameron's boxers the only thing on the way, but as soon as you lifted your hips, he slid down the black piece of fabric.

the sheriff slid the tip of his cock up and down on your slit, making sure he was covered in your arousal before he positioned his cock at your entrance. "you ready?" rafe mumbled, and the moment you nodded, he slipped himself into you, groaning as he felt your walls enveloping him. "you feel so good…" he groaned

rate continued thrusting in and out of you, lewd moans leaving your lips as his hands gripped your hips, moving you up and down on him. one of his thumbs moved to your clit, drawing intense circles on it as you ground yourself against his touch, feeling the band in your stomach stretch, and stretch, and stretch… until it finally snaps.

you moan his name as you come on his cock, feeling rafe grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, your chest pressing against his. "you did so great…" the man mumbled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, "such a good little criminal…"

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caitlynsrighteye · 2 months ago

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Hi! Can i request a caitlyn x reader? where reader is starting to get baby fever and is getting sensitive about it and doesnt want to let caitlyn know cause she dont know how cait would react if she says she wants a baby? ... Could be wholesome or smut. Or both honestly... Thanks. I literally read all the things you wrote already keep up the good work i really enjoyed them.

Baby fever with Caitlyn

G!P Caitlyn Kiramman x reader

Contains: SMUT, fluff, wlw, g!p, fem!reader, established relationship, vanilla, cowgirl, blowjob, soft baby fever and conceiving

wc: 3.2k

Masterlist

She already goes through so much. Plate is always full with duties and priorities. Sheriff of Piltover and head of the Kiramman name. Standards to live up to fully, whether it’s set by herself or by others. Leaving you early in the morning with a quick kiss to your forehead while you’re still asleep and coming home late after another long day at work.

And you. Giggling, smiling in awe as you stroll the Piltovian markets and pass by a children’s clothing store. Walking around inside to find the most adorable shoes in the shape of lions, bear onesies and tiny shirts with almost cringe-worthy quotes. You pinch the edge of one hanging on a rack with other shirts, taking a closer look at its size and how your hand covers its entire torso.

Your heart throbbed at the sight of all of these miniature clothes. Watching a couple push their toddler in a stroller, browsing toys while the small child happily holds the item they picked out. You would often be scrolling on your phone, randomly coming across pov videos, watching a baby in a onesie attempt in climbing up a seesaw to ride it.

The sound of their sweet wordless voices, the soft looking chub on their cheeks, and you could almost smell the baby breath through your screen.

The baby fever has haunted you, lingered deep in your thoughts. It even had you confused, you thought you’ve been ovulating since last month.

You sit on the couch in the living room of you and your wife’s shared home. Legs tucked up on the sofa while you lean on the arm rest, once again scrolling on your phone with an opened book left forgotten on your lap.

It was sometime in the evening, Caitlyn should be back soon. The fireplace crackling, and the flickering light glowing on your features while you dream of a life you could grow with whom you love.

You heard your front door open and heavy feet stepping inside your home. Caitlyn finds you, stupidly smiling at your phone while you continue to watch the same videos over and over again.

“What has you grinning like that, Darling?” She says. You turn your attention, finding a tired, but sly smirk tilted on her lips as she makes you way to sit next to you. You fix your position and she sits down, hip to hip, throwing an arm around your shoulder, trying to peek at your phone.

You tilt it away slightly. “Just…” you weren't sure if this was a good time to tell her, but the thoughts have been eating you alive. You gently sighed, figuring out how to break the news.

“I've been thinking a lot,” that was a start. She had leaned forward over her lap to look you in the eye with her one and only. One not covered by a dark blue eyepatch. Your fingers fidgeted, tapping the backside of your phone as you tried swallowing the uncomfortable lump in your throat.

She took your cheek in her hand, turning your head slowly but surely to meet her gaze fully. “My love, you can tell me anything,” she said with such comfort in her tone. Though tired after a long day she's still there to reassure you when you're in need. Which just makes you more sure that you want to start something with her. To share a life with her and something beautiful you both create.

You inhale deeply, exhaling the breath before you say, “What would you think about trying for a baby?” You face winces just slightly, bracing for a negative reaction.

Caitlyn doesn't say anything at first, but with her hand still on your cheek her thumb rubs it gently. Her lips pressing together, curling upwards, smiling along with her eye that squints while staring into you deeply.

You both sat together in silence. The smell of wood burning, the warmth of the fire, its glow highlighting your soft expression. Her knee touching yours, hand caressing your cheek. She huffs to herself.

“Darling, that's what you were so nervous about telling me?” the hand on your cheek reaches for a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

Your hand closest to her reaches for her thigh to fiddle with the fabric of her pants. “I just thought… with you being so busy with work and everything else, I thought it would maybe be too much. I didn’t want to be selfish,” you look around the room. “And it gets quiet around here, maybe a child of our own can fill that void, you know?”

She takes a moment before leaning in. Her soft lips meet yours in a tender kiss, slow and full of love. Noses brushing together as your lips tangle.

She breaks the kiss, eye slowly opens with a sweet smile on her lips.

“Love, in what world would that be selfish? I would love to have a child with you,” her voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. You search for any signs of uncertainty, and when she expresses nothing but genuine assurance you jump from your spot on the sofa, launching yourself into her arms. She catches you, hugs you close with her arms holding your waist tightly while your arms are around her neck.

You giggle into her shoulder. Feet swinging in pure joy. You repeatedly say ‘thank yous’ and ‘I love yous’ in her neck, giving her skin soft pecks while she leans in your touch.

You sigh in relief. Kissing up her jaw before planting a kiss on her mouth. Your palms squishing her cheeks, holding her still and close, feeling her smile within your passionate kiss.

When your lips break off from hers, her hands meet yours on her cheeks, holding them gently in her grasp, thumbs rubbing with reassurance..

“This would make you happy, dear?” She asked, wanting to make sure you were perfectly fine with this new, important idea.

You nodded excessively, tightening your grip in her hands before bringing them to your face and kissing each knuckle.

“It would make me the happiest wife in Runeterra.”

You and Caitlyn had planned a night together. A night Caitlyn knew not to work late. The papers in front of her laid half finished. Pen twirling in her fingers as her eye watched the clock tick with each and every passing second. Counting the minutes before it's time for her to leave.

Right when that minute hand struck 12, signaling a new hour she was up on her feet, scrambling to gather her things while attempting to put on her coat mid walk.

She could feel her heart pounding through her chest. Sweat began to form on her brow in anticipation. Kicking off her boots and climbing her way up to your shared room. The smell of lit candles led her, like a bloodhound sniffing out a trail.

When she finally reaches the bedroom door. She stares, gulping down a nervous lump. Why was she so nervous? You both have been married for well over a year now, how could this be any different?

She grabs the door knob and turns it. Pushing the door open till she’s met with the sight of you, and oh what a view you were.

Sat at the end of your shared bed, one leg over the other, leaned back on your hands that have been fidgeting with the sheets for the past couple hours. The candle lights flickered and reflected off your glistening eyes that nervously met with hers. Deep and icy blue.

Your cheeks were flushed. Imagination alone was enough to get you flustered but with your wife standing in the doorway, her single eye skimming down your chest. Breasts bound inside your pushup bra and matching panties growing damp.

It had taken Caitlyn a second to process. Process how lucky she was for winning over a beautiful wife such as yourself.

“You're absolutely stunning, my love,” she says quietly. As if speaking too loud will scare away all the love and sexual desire you both were feeling.

She stays by the door, staring, admiring, or maybe a cover up of her wobbly knees that grew weak at the sight of you, worried she'll trip and fall and ruin the moment.

So you stood up, the bed slightly creaking as it shifted. You walked slowly, enough for her to burn an image in her head of your hips swaying throughout the short distance from the bed to the door. The eye contact was on and off. A nervous glance to the side every now and then, but when you were toe to toe, you reached for her hand, gave her a slight glance with rosey cheeks and a sly, knowing smile.

She let you guide her to the bed, hands interlocked while she tailed behind you, having an amazing view of your pretty ass covered in lace panties. Halfway towards the bed you turn back around, continuing to walk backwards while your attention is on her. You stop when you feel the back of your knees hit the mattress.

You let go of her hand to ride yours over her shoulders, pushing her coat off her arms and having it fall to the floor with a slight thud. She goes to undo the buttons of her shirt but you stop her.

“Allow me,” you say softly. She’s hesitant as fist, but puts her arms down and watches your hands move along her chest. Your fingers tremble against the material. After every few buttons undone you glance up, looking if she’s still staring at your hands. Her shirt opens revealing her bra and you help shimmy off the shirt. Once her shirt is on the floor along with her jacket you lean into her, kissing her soft lips.

Caitlyn holds on to you like instinct, like her hands were made to cling to your hips. You run your hands up her stomach, passing every curve of muscle to her underboob where you push up the mounds of fat. She moans in your mouth, sticking her tongue in after you’ve given her permission to do so. Your tongues swirl together inside your mouth, your arms wrapping around her neck to bring her in closer. Hers follow up the dip of your back to your braclip, separating the clip with expertise, letting your boobs free.

You gasp from the cold, lips still in contact. You pull her closer, switching your spots and making her sit at the edge of the bed. Your hands rest on her thigh for balance, kissing her deeply till her neck is arched back. One of her hands on the bed, keeping herself up while her other is on the side of your neck, fingers curling under your ear.

You pull your lips away, taking in the heated blush you’ve painted on her cheeks. You can hear her breath, chest rising and falling as she waits for your next move. You slide off your loose bra straps, removing the clothing and giving her a knowing nod before going back in to kiss down her neck. The further down you go she leans back onto her elbows. You place gentle pecks on her skin, sucking on her defined collarbones. One of your hands leaves her thigh to lower her bra, allowing her breasts to slip from its tight fabric.

You suck on one of her hard nipples and finger the other. You hear her exhale softly under her breath, feeling her intense gaze on you. Latching your lips around her bud, sucking unhurriedly as your fingers pinch. A gentle and harsh juxtaposition. You meet her stare, observing every little twitch whenever you peck over a sensitive spot. Back onto the path of open mouthed kisses along her fit body, making sure each ab gets the attention it deserves, before met with the waistband of her work pants. Now kneeling on the floor between her legs, the everyday bulge of her show-er print twitches just slightly when your hand passes over her zipper.

Glancing back up where she gives you a consensual nod. You’re skilled in this art of pleasure, but something about today makes your knees weak underneath you. You kiss her clothed groin before undoing her pants and grabbing both sides of the waistband, pulling it down along with her undergarment till it's off her ankles and thrown somewhere on the floor next to you.

Her member was half hard, a slight leak at her tip, but floppy on her thigh.

You can help with that.

You use your hand to help guide it into your mouth that’s wet from salivation. She throws her head back and hisses as you suck on her soft length. Her cock grows harder by the second with each bob of your head.

She whimpers under the touch of your mouth that becomes more compact and tight as she hardens, your throat getting shallower as her tip grazes the back. Once she’s hard enough for you to stroke your hand along it you pull your mouth off till it's only her tip between the warmth of your lips. You jerk her with your hand while sucking on her sensitive cockhead.

“Oh.. yes baby, fuck,” she lays back, head digging into the sheets and her hips gently buck when you bottom out on her cock. Gagging when she twitches, just that centimeter of movement felt as if she went deeper. You bob up and down her cock. Fully engulfing her flesh in your warm, wet mouth. Her hand found its way into your hair, brushing anything in your face and holding it up in a makeshift ponytail. Keeping it out of the way while using you as leverage.

Her chest heaves and arches. Ball sack ready to squeeze out what is stored, but you don't let her. You pull off of her, earning a struggling sigh from your wife. Cock standing tall, twitching on edge.

She lifts her head to look in your direction. “Darling–”

“Finish inside me, baby,” she watches you stand and climb onto the bed next to her, placing a hand on her cheek and turning her head for a kiss. She lays surprised, but gives in less than a moment later. Swinging an arm around your waist.

You both kiss while she rolls you over onto your back. She gets on top of you and you gasp when you feel her erection poke your inner thighs that spread wider for her. She grinds herself on your clit to your naval, her hands on boths sides of you while yours pull her face closer, kissing her deeper.

Your hands follow the fabric of her bra around her torso to unclip it. She pulls away from you for just a second to remove her bra before coming back in to trade spit. One of her hands slips to your panty waistband, tugging it from the back to pull it off your ass then down your legs while you kick the lace off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

She breaks the kiss for you both to look down at her erection, glistening with your spit and leaking pre on your pelvis. Your drenched hole twitches in anticipation, beginning to get impatient.

With just her hips, she aims her tip to your entrance. Her swollen head meeting between your folds before accidentally slipping back up to your clit from how soaked you were.

“Shit,” she says. You both giggle, feeling like it was your awkward first time with each other all over again.

She tries again, using her hand around her shaft this time. Letting go once her cockhead had dipped inside, then she let her hips take over, slowly thrusting. You take it inch by inch till her baby maker has met your slickness.

Your back arches, adjusting around her while she kisses your breasts. Your fingernails digging into her shoulders.

“Oh fuck…” she whispered in your cleavage, kissing up to your neck where she pecks it softly. “You feel so good,” the same phrase she's mentioned almost everyday of your marriage, but today with added intimacy of creation.

You moan, feeling yourself loosen and ready for her to start thrusting. You buck your hips and whisper a “Fuck me, baby,” in her ear, your breath sending chills down her spine. She pulls her cock out halfway, then rams back in. A low-tempo pace with harsh thrusts to make sure she hits as deep as she can each time.

Her lips leave your neck to watch you look breathless. Eyes half lidded, sweat building on your forehead and your sweet moans escaping your mouth. So beautiful. You're the woman she married and hopefully soon to become pregnant with her baby. She leans in and passionately kisses you. Wanting to feel every part of you while you conceive.

Her hips snap against yours. Her sack clapping on your skin as she does her best to kiss your cervix with her tip. Hard shaft penetrating your sopping hole, walls clenching and tightening. Holding onto her length like you never want her to exit.

Your wife groans deeply, completely addicted to the feeling of your insides wrapped around her girth. Her hips keep pace, trying to increase in speed yet tires.

You push up on her chest, flipping her over so you're now straddling her cock. Quickly bouncing your ass on her lap.

In shock she groans, “Ah~ fuck, darling.” Her hands find your hips, helping you bounce harder.

“We're making this baby together, aren't we?” You say. Lifting your hips up then back down. Your ass slapping on her thighs with each bounce. You tits following your motion, bouncing in circular rotations.

You lean over her till your chest meets with hers. You kiss her eyepatch before trailing pecks to her lips that are moaning whenever you squeeze around her.

“Oh fuck, Cait–” you moan. Her tip abusing your sweetest spots, tickling your kidneys when she feels so close to your soul. She wraps her arms around you, bringing her knees to a bend and thrusting up into your cunt. Your lips still latched, tongue finding hers in her mouth, swirling around as your insides tighten.

The bed creaks underneath you, her thrusts becoming relentless. You cuss gutturally into her mouth, squeezing her hard as you gush around her. Your body is shaking uncontrollably on top of her.

She makes a few more harsh thrusts before releasing into you, keeping her cock deep inside your heat. Both of you moan together as you stay interlinked. Body combined as one, hot with intimacy and love, and hope in conceiving.

You both fall onto your sides, still stuck together as you hold each other close, not wanting to part. Her hips buck slowly and gently, making sure no cum escapes and wastes.

Breathing hard, air feeling steamy. Overheated bodies relieved by the cool sheets of the bed. Her arms hold you tight, while you hand plays with her navy hair roots on the back of her head, massaging her scalp.

“I love you,” she says softly. Her face tucked in your neck, eye closed with exhaustion. “I love you so much.”

Your lips curl into a sweet closed mouth smile that she can feel when your cheek flexes on her forehead.

“I love you too, my love,” you both lay in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other. You don't know if it worked this time, but you will try over and over again till you finally have a part of your wife growing inside of you.

Note: AHHHHH!!! Thank you for the request and thank you for your patience. I've tried getting this done all week but i was so busyy!

Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading everyone :))))

Have a good day/night♡♡♡

912 notes · View notes

vunblr · 3 months ago

Text

A Star Without a Sky (#1)

Pairing: Sheriff! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff. Slow Burn. Smut.

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Word Count: About 6.7k.

Note: Old West Bucky, just because.

She forced herself out of the warm bed, groggy and resentful of the cold that crept from every crack in the old wood walls. The sun had been up for hours. Errands -postponed too many times- piled at her with obligation, so she folded back the quilt with a sigh and let her bare feet hit the frigid floor.

The curtains were stiff from the cold when she opened them, but the frost-laced glass flared gold for a moment. Maybe the sun would heat the place a little, while she got the stove going. She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her nightdress, crossed to the kitchen corner, and bent to arrange kindling into the firebox. The cold bit into her hands as she fumbled with the matches with a curse.

Then she caught a movement in the corner of her eye.

She promptly turned toward the window, and through the murky pane, she saw a figure moving slowly across the edge of the wild hay meadow. Long black coat dragging in the snow, matching black hat pulled low. He didn’t look like much, -no rifle, no saddle- but the way he walked made her breath stutter, just a little.

Not like a man who meant harm.

Like a man trying hard to stay on his feet.

One of his knees buckled, sudden and ugly, sending him listing sideways. The white behind him bloomed red.

She pressed a hand to the glass. He tripped on something under the drift -maybe a stone, maybe nothing at all- and crumpled, hard, face-first into the snow. He didn’t move. The black of his coat sprawled out like an ink stain across the white.

She didn’t think. She just moved.

----

She reached him just as the wind picked up, scattering loose snow across the meadow in dry, hissing gusts. Kneeling beside him, she pressed a hand to his shoulder, the fabric of his coat was soaked through and cold to the touch. He flinched like a spooked horse, jolting upright onto his knees and lifting his head, looking at her with an impossibly blue gaze.

Then his eyes rolled back.

His body folded on itself, collapsing again into a heap of dark leather, blood, and limp limbs.

She panicked. He was going to die out here.

She hooked her hands under his arms and tried to lift him, grunting with the effort, but he was heavy and slack and offered nothing to work with. The cold was stealing him by the minute. Her breath fogged fast as she scanned for something -anything- and then, she scooped a fistful of snow, and smeared it across his face.

He groaned, low and miserable. Still alive.

Good.

She slapped him. Hard.

"Wake up!"

His head jerked. A curse slurred past cracked lips. He pushed himself onto one elbow, swaying, and that was enough. She ducked under his arm and dragged it across her shoulders, locking her other arm around his waist. He stank of blood and iron, sweat and gunpowder, and her knees almost gave under his weight, but she held fast.

“We are going to the house now,” she hissed against the sharp wind, with her cheek brushing against his stubble. “I need you to move, because I can’t do this alone.”

He grunted, barely conscious, but his legs obeyed enough to shuffle, stagger. Step by step, they moved toward the porch. His hair fell across her face, chestnut strands tickling her lashes as she leaned into him. She was too focused on the door, on the fire she hadn’t lit, on the bed she’d just left, when something hard knocked against her hip.

She froze. Shifted. Felt it again.

A pistol. Holstered under his coat.

So, not unarmed after all.

----

She wrestled the quilt aside just in time before they toppled onto the bed, both hitting the mattress in a graceless heap, with his full weight sagging over her until she twisted, shoved, and managed to roll him off her with a grunt. The room was freezing, the stove still unlit, but she felt sweat prickling along her spine.

"Don’t die," she muttered, more to herself than him, as she bent and started on his coat. The leather stuck to his body, frozen and soaked through with blood. She peeled it back, inch by inch. Waistcoat next, then the shirt. His chest was heaving shallow, and his skin was pale beneath the streaks of dirt and gore. She fumbled fast, tearing open fabric until she found the wound, just under the ribs, on his left side.

“Damn it.”

A neat hole. Clean, if blood could ever be called clean.

She pressed her hand under his back and felt the sticky mess there, another hole, just above his waist. She exhaled, shaky.

"Through and through."

It was something.

Blood still pooled thick beneath him, though. He'd been walking like this. Bleeding like this. God only knew how far he'd come or how long he'd been dragging himself through the cold like a ghost looking for somewhere to fall.

She reached for the basin on the table, filled it with what water hadn't frozen overnight, and tossed in a kettle from the shelf. It’d be warm in a minute if she got the fire going.

But first…

She went back to him. Looked at him.

His shoulder-length dark hair clung damp to his temple. His face was unshaven, with a jaw that looked carved from stone. He looked hard. Worn. Tired. The kind of face that had seen years too fast.

Her gaze drifted lower, to his torso, lean muscle beneath the blood, scars and bruises, and something caught the light.

A glint of metal, nestled against his side, half-tucked under the folds of his waistcoat. She reached for it.

A silver star. Dull, scratched, but unmistakable.

A sheriff badge.

She stared at it for a long beat.

A sheriff was bleeding out in her bed

----

She cleaned the blood away with water and vinegar, soaked into a rag until it turned rust-brown, wiping carefully like she could scrub death off him with enough effort. The bullet hole wept dark blood with each shallow breath he managed to pull in. He hadn’t stirred since she got him into the bed. Not even when she pressed down to see how deep the wound ran.

She lit a candle and threaded the needle by its shaky light. The thread was thick and waxed -meant for mending saddle leather, not flesh- but it would hold. She'd done this before.

Dozens of times.

The needle pierced skin, and her hands didn’t tremble. Not once.

She'd stitched up gashes, tears, and ugly farm accidents when Cole had come limping in from the fields with blood on his shirt and his mouth twisted in pain. She could still hear his voice, grumbling softly while she worked, trying to distract her.

Cole.

If he were alive, he’d be the one dealing with this. Would’ve hauled the stranger in himself, dragged him out of the snow with strong arms, and laid him out with confidence, not panic.

But Cole had been dead for two years.

Two winters of silence, of watching the fields change and learning how to do what needed doing whether or not it broke her.

These were the cards.

And this was the hand she played.

She tied off the last stitch and cut the thread with a scissor. Then she sat back, wiped her palms on her nightdress, and stared down at the sleeping lawman bleeding on her sheets.

She uncorked the turpentine with numb fingers and poured it straight onto the wound. He flinched -just a twitch, not enough to wake- but his body jerked like it knew how to scream even if he couldn't.

His face had gone gray, and his lips, the color of ash. Too much blood gone. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth and thought, hard.

He needed something in him. Something warm.

She stumbled into the pantry, shivering in her nightdress, and pulled down the bottle she’d never used. Bought it in hope, and tucked it away when that hope became vain. She filled a pot with milk from the day before, added water to thin it, and honey to sweeten it. The teat was stiff from disuse, but it softened as she worked it between her fingers.

Back in the bedroom, she pressed it to his mouth.

He didn’t drink. His lips parted slack, and the milk dribbled out, warm and wasted down his chin. She cursed low under her breath, brushed her hair from her eyes, and did what had to be done.

She climbed onto the bed.

With effort, she shifted his weight, stuffing pillows behind him until he was propped just enough, and then settled beside him on her knees, feeling his head heavy against her chest. She cradled the back of his skull with her forearm, grabbed the bottle, and rubbed his throat gently with her empty hand.

He groaned. Not awake. But there.

She tilted the bottle again, angled it just so, with her fingers still coaxing along his throat.

This time, he drank.

Suckled hard, desperate, and instinctual. Like his body wanted to live even if his mind wasn’t aware of it. She didn’t speak at first, just watched, mesmerized by the motion, the hollow pull of his cheeks, the faint rise of color in them.

When he paused, she rested her hand on his cheek. Cool, rough with stubble. "You’re doing good," she murmured, low and close to his ear. "Come on, just a little more."

No answer, but he kept drinking.

And she stayed like that, curled around a half-dead lawman, feeding him from a bottle meant for a child she never had.

----

After three days, she had a routine. She pushed the door open with her hip, balancing the basin, a clean rag, and the bottle in her arms. Her boots thudded softly on the floorboards, and she didn’t even glance toward the bed at first, she was halfway to setting the basin down when she felt his eyes on her.

He was awake.

Propped up slightly on the pillows, with the blanket bunched at his waist, and his face still pale but alert. His blue eyes were sharp, almost piercing.

They stared at each other for a long second. Neither moved.

"Where am I?" he rasped.

"At my house," she answered, calm but cautious, tightening her grip on the bottle. "You’re safe here."

His shoulders didn’t relax. “And you are…?”

“Y/n. You collapsed inside my property and I brought you here.”

He blinked slowly, as if chewing the words, and then glanced at the bottle in her hand. His expression changed to one more open. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, stiff and formal. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing your family, being another chore-”

“Oh, it’s just me,” she cut in, with a lighter tone than she really felt. “You’re only disrupting my less-than-exciting week.”

His gaze dropped again to the glass bottle.

She followed his eyes. Paused. And then felt the heat crawl up her neck.

“Oh. That’s why you thought…” She fumbled with the bottle and nearly dropped it. “Actually, I made this for you.”

His brows pinched together, slow and confused. “Why…?”

“I- um- I've been feeding you with this. Since you couldn’t swallow, and I figured… you needed the strength.”

His expression shifted, his eyes widened, and a faint red crept over the tops of his cheekbones. “That so?”

“You were so weak,” she hurried, mortified. “You couldn’t even hold your head up. And you needed nourishment, and I didn’t know what else to-”

“All right.” He lifted a hand, sluggishly but firm. “I understand the whole picture. No need to…”

He made a vague gesture, then dragged his palm down over his face and groaned low in his throat. The thought of this fine woman kneeling beside him, cradling his head, easing a damn baby bottle between his lips, nearly made him wish he'd bled out in the snow.

But he didn’t. And now he owed her.

“Thank you, ma’am.” His voice was softer now. Less wary. “I’m Sheriff Barnes. James Barnes. I’ve been in town for three months now. Never saw you before.”

She crossed her arms, leaning on the bedpost. “Oh, I don’t go too often to town and surely didn’t cross paths. Maybe that’s why.”

He nodded slowly, with his eyes still on her. He went quiet for a beat. Then-

“I imagine I made quite an entrance.”

She shrugged like she hadn’t spent the last few days feeding him in her arms. “Well, not every morning one finds a dying man at home.” She fiddled with the rubber teat, until it came loose with a soft pop. “Here. I already made it… it'll do you good-”

He took it with a slow nod, brought it to his mouth, and drank. Just a sip, just enough to coat his throat, but the moment the warm sweetness touched his tongue, that creeping, cursed heat returned. His ears burned. He could still imagine her hand at his jaw, coaxing, soothing. Her soft voice whispering encouragement like he was some wounded thing, some child.

“So you live out here all alone?” he asked quickly, trying to think on anything else.

“I lived here with my husband.” Her tone didn’t waver. “He died two years ago.”

He straightened up a little. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

A pause.

“I’m not that alone. I rent most of the land to my two neighbors. They’re decent folks. Help out from time to time, or their wives come around to chat when they want to gossip.”

“That’s good to hear.” He finished another sip and placed the bottle on the nightstand with a soft groan, and his muscles shifted in his bare torso, slow and deliberate. She noticed -of course she did- and quickly turned away, busying herself with the basin and gauze.

“I have to change the bandage now.”

“I can-”

“You can’t.” Her voice came out final. “You can’t be moving around yet or the stitches will tear.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I-”

“It is the first time I’ve had a man bleeding out on my bed,” she noted, crossing her arms and arching one brow. “So be a good sheriff and let me do this.”

He exhaled slowly and long, leaning back into the pillows with a look that said he knew better than to fight her. “Suit yourself.”

She dipped the rag into the vinegar water, but before she could begin, she paused. “Oh! before I start. Do you have to pee?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“To pee, Sheriff Barnes. You know. That yellow-”

“Don’t say it.”

She gave him a flat look. “Well?”

He pressed his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I might need to use the bathroom, yes.”

“Alright.” She reached behind the nightstand and pulled out a dented tin jar with a handle, the kind that had seen use. She reached for the quilt.

His hand shot out, pinning the fabric down. “What are you doing?”

“You said you wanted to relieve yourself. I was going to-”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I won’t… do it there.” His voice cracked slightly, with mortification blooming again hot on his face. Goddammit.

“You don’t have many options,” she said gently, matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t going to look, just put it down there. No offense, but how do you think I’ve been managing you until now? The jar is an improvement. I’ve had to put towels between your thighs and your-”

“Okay.” He stared at her, then at the quilt covering his hips, then closed his eyes with a grimace. “Okay. Just… gimme the thing. I’ll manage.”

She handed him the jar and turned her back with the dignity of a queen.

“Ask for help if you need it,” she said, with infuriating cheer.

He groaned like a dying man all over again.

----

He watched her as she worked -silent and focused- like the shape of his naked body didn’t bother her at all. Like the scars weren’t there. Her hands were warm against his chilled skin, and he hated how good that felt. Hated that he noticed.

A lock of hair slipped from her bun and swung against her cheek. She didn’t fix it. The sunlight caught on her skin, and the neckline of her work dress, on the soft outline of her breasts shifting beneath the fabric as she leaned forward. She didn’t wear a shawl. And damn him, it had been so long since a woman touched him without fear or hurry. Since he’d seen something so gentle up close.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you come into town more often?”

She didn’t look at him right away. Just kept cleaning the wound, slowly, squeezing the cloth over the basin.

“Well… I go. For groceries. Things I need from the general store.” She dipped the rag again and wrung it out. “But it feels strange, wandering alone. And there’s always someone bringing up Cole- my husband.”

He gave a small nod, not wanting to interrupt.

“And then, sometimes it’s the whispers,” she added, quieter. “Men think I don’t hear ’em. The young widow who lives alone out there, renting to men, with no husband or family around. Must be doing more than sewing curtains.”

He stiffened and frowned.

She smiled, small and humorless. “People get real creative when they don’t have anything better to do.”

“And you just let ’em?”

“What should I do, sheriff? March in and shout I’m not fucking the tenants?” She shook her head as she wrung the cloth out. “Anyway, since I’m already damaged goods…” She shrugged. “They’re not so judgmental. Even save me a spot in church on Sundays.”

He watched her for a long beat.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, with a rough voice.

She chuckled. Couldn’t believe a man like him didn’t catch the meaning. “I’m not a virgin, sheriff. It’s a commodity I don’t have anymore. That’s why some of them talk, but in the end, it’s not like I could trick a man into something that’s not real. Pretend they’re the first and all that, since, well, it’d be odd for a widow to never have laid with her husband.”

Oh. That.

He felt the heat crawl up his neck like a stupid boy.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “in my opinion, ma’am, they ought to mind their own damn business. And if anyone says a word about the woman who saved my life… well, they won’t like how that ends.”

"Thank you,” she said softly, standing up and brushing her hands on her skirt. “Speaking of town, now that you're awake and probably can pass a couple of hours alone, I should go fetch the doctor," she suggested, looking at his tired face.

The smile vanished, and his body tensed under the quilt. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said. “You did a good job.”

“I’m no doctor, and neither are you.”

“I’ve been shot a couple times,” he muttered. “Seen more bullet wounds than a man should. In my experience, this looks promising.”

She arched a brow at him.

“I promise you, when I can mount I’ll borrow a horse and be off your back.” He murmured

“You may have a point. But it’s not about you being a bother, sheriff.” Her tone softened. “Isn’t it better if someone knows where you are? Just in case?”

“Actually… no.” His voice dropped a note. “Don’t mean to scare you, but if word spreads I’m here -injured and on the outs of town- some folks might see it as an opportunity to… take care of me permanently. If you catch my meaning.”

She did. And her stomach turned a little at the thought.

She nodded once. “Right. No doctor then.” Then she thought. “How about your wife?” she asked, keeping her voice casual. No ring on his finger didn’t mean he hadn’t left someone behind.

He gave a tired chuckle. “Ain’t a Mrs. Barnes out there to miss me. Maybe Deputy Wilson’ll shed a few tears.”

She looked down quickly, fiddling with the hem of her apron. Stupid, how relieved she felt.

“Maybe give word to your deputy, then?” she said, not quite looking at him as she rearranged the basin and cloth. “So he knows you’re alive and… maybe fetch you some clothing?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ll write him a letter if it’s no trouble for you. Also…” He scratched at the scruff along his jaw, scanning the worn floorboards with tired eyes. “Could ask him to bring a rifle.”

She stopped tending him and tilted her head. “A rifle.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you, a man or an army?” She folded her arms, with a teasing tone in her voice. “You’ve already got two pistols and a pair of knives in my cupboard.”

He huffed out a breath, almost a laugh, or close to it. A flash of something that nearly passed for a smile curled one corner of his mouth. “The job comes with its risks.”

Looking at his wound, her eyes narrowed. “Can see that,” she murmured.

----

The fresh gauze and clean bandage were already in her hands, as she traced the rim of the wound with a featherlight touch of the cloth, with more tenderness than he expected, almost reverently. The muscles of his abdomen twitched under her fingers, and he cursed himself inwardly for the reaction.

“Sorry,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. “I needed to dry the moisture.”

He wasn’t looking at her either, fixing his gaze somewhere behind her shoulder, clenching his jaw. That wasn’t precisely what hurt. “It’s... alright.”

She reached behind him. “Can you lift yourself just a little so I can wrap this around you? It'll be so much easier that way.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The words came through grit teeth.

He pushed himself up with trembling arms, catching his breath in his throat from the flare of pain that tore down his side. But he held it. He had to. She’d been dragging his half-dead weight around like a sack of flour for days. If he could do this one simple thing, he'd damn well do it.

She wrapped the bandage with quick hands, brushing his sking with warm fingers. He focused on the sound of the wind rattling against the windowpane, the creak of the mattress, and the feel of her arm briefly pressed to his ribs.

But it was hard not to think about how fucking good her hands felt against his skin. The way her fingers ghosted over his ribs, and how the scent of her hair -lavender water and woodsmoke- drifted close, and he caught himself wanting to bury his fingers in that bun, and tug it loose just to set it free.

Pathetic. Half-dead in a stranger’s bed and his touch-starved, half-feral body had the gall to ache for more.

She could feel his stare, like a weight. It made her fumble. When he’d been unconscious, it was easier. He wasn’t a man then, just a body in need of tending. She could wash him, move him, press cloth against his skin, and ignore what it meant. But now… now he was watching her, and his body wasn’t slack anymore. His breath caught at her touch. And he was handsome, damn it. That didn’t help a bit.

She forced her hands to finish, too quick, too clinical. “There you go,” she muttered helping him lean back into the pillows. “I’ll fetch you pen and paper so you can write the deputy.”

“Maybe... it'd be better a pencil,” he rasped. “Ma’am, I already bled on your sheets, don’t wanna stain ’em with ink.”

She blinked, then smiled despite herself. “That is very considerate of you. Thank you.”

He just nodded, slow and heavy-lidded. His face was unreadable, but the tips of his ears had turned red.

----

She entered the bedroom with a glass of water and a plate of crackers. Her hair was combed into a neater bun now, tucked under a wide-brimmed hat tied beneath her chin with a pale ribbon. A thick shawl was draped over her shoulders, knotted above her chest, the heavy wool taming now the shape of her body he’d gotten used to seeing in thinner cotton.

Bucky blinked. She looked… respectable. Buttoned up like a preacher’s wife. He kind of missed the sight of her work dress, with the sleeves rolled up, and her hair slipping wild around her ears. Somehow this -this distance of her appearance- made the bed feel colder.

“Did you write the letter?” she asked, setting the plate and glass on the nightstand with a careful clink.

“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the folded paper. “Deputy Wilson should be at the office. If not, I wrote his address there for you.”

She tucked the note into her satchel and glanced at him. “Alright. Do you need anything else?”

“No, ma’am. Just… sleep.”

“Seems fair. You just woke up.” She reached for her gloves. “I’ll try not to linger much, hm? So you’re not here alone too long.”

He nodded. Alone’s the usual state of things anyway.

“Careful on the road, ma’am,” he said instead. “Put a blanket up over your legs.”

That got a soft breath of laughter from her. “Well now, ain’t that thoughtful.”

He didn’t answer, just watched her as she pulled the shawl tighter and walked out.

----

The afternoon light spilled gold across the dirt path as her cart clattered into town, with the wheels creaking softly over the uneven road. A few townsfolk tipped their hats or nodded her way. Mr. Granger from the tannery, old Miss Routh hobbling along the storefronts, and she nodded back, polite, reserved. The wind tugged gently at her hat ribbon.

She pulled the cart at a short distance from the sheriff’s office and tied the reins to the hitching post, patting the mare’s neck once before stepping down. Her boots crunched against the packed earth and dirty snow as she made her way toward the squat brick building, with its door half open. The scent of tobacco and dust met her first.

Inside, who she think it was Deputy Sam Wilson looked up from where he sat at the desk, chewing through a sandwich. He froze, mouth half-full, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh- uh- morning, ma’am. Beg your pardon, I-”

She raised a hand before he could scramble upright. “No need to fuss, deputy. You go on.”

He swallowed and wiped his hands on a kerchief.

She hovered by the desk a moment, smoothing a fold in her shawl before reaching into her satchel. “Sheriff Barnes asked me to give you this.” She offered the folded letter, a little hesitantly.

Sam quirked a brow and took it from her fingers. As he unfolded the page, his expression shifted: surprise morphing into concern, then loosening into something softer as he read the last lines.

“Well, that explains the absence,” he muttered with a huff, setting the paper down. “Man always did have a knack for showing up bloodied and half-frozen like it was a hobby.”

She gave a little chuckle, folding her arms lightly. “He’s been... decent company. Quiet. Polite. If he’s trouble, he’s not shown it.”

Sam leaned back in the chair, and laughed at that. “Ma’am, I don’t know who you’ve got laid up in your spare bed, but that sure doesn’t sound like the James Barnes I work with. Grumpier than a bear with a sore tooth most days.”

She smiled, a little more relaxed now. “Well, then I suppose the snow knocked some manners into him.”

He stood with a grunt and disappeared into the back room. She heard the clatter of a cabinet, the rustle of canvas, and then he returned with a wrapped bundle, long, narrow, and unmistakable even beneath the cloth. He laid it on the desk and tied the covering snug with firm hands.

“His rifle,” he said, nodding toward it. “Lost it, he said?”

“Snow buried it. Or carried it off. Either way, it’s gone.”

“Well, he’ll be glad to have this one. Tell him to sit tight. I’ll keep things running over here until he’s back on his feet.” Sam tapped the letter with two fingers, then watched as she reached for the rifle.

He lifted a hand. “Wait a moment, please.”

She paused, puzzled, as he turned and disappeared into another room, this one closer than the back storage, maybe the Sheriff’s quarters. There was a muffled sound of rummaging, drawers opening, and something heavy shifting. Then he returned with a small leather satchel in his hand. He set it down on the desk with a soft clink: the unmistakable chime of coin against coin.

Her brows drew together. “There are no shops on the road for him to-”

“No, ma’am,” Sam said gently, already anticipating her. “This’s not for him. He asked me to give this to you. For the inconvenience.”

She shook her head, taking a step back. “I can’t accept that.”

“He figured you’d say that,” he cut in, folding his arms over his chest. “And insisted. Said to tell you he’s not the sort to eat a woman out of house and home without paying properly.”

She stood still.

Sam gestured to the satchel. “I’ve seen that man come back from a week on the trail, and let me tell you, when he starts eating again, it’s like a plague of locusts. He’ll feel guilty as soon as he can stand upright for long. Just take it, ma’am.”

She hesitated for a moment longer, then sighed and stepped forward, picking up the pouch. It was heavier than she expected. She tied it to the inside of her satchel with care.

“Thank you, deputy.”

He gave her a nod and an earnest smile. “You let me know if he gets outta line. I’ll come drag him back myself.”

----

She eased the door open with her shoulder, careful not to let the parcel slip from beneath her arm. The cabin was quiet, steeped in the scent of faint wood smoke. The fire had burned low, and the ash grayed the edges of the hearth. She shut the door with a soft press, set the wrapped rifle, satchel, and products down on the table, and poured water into the kettle, placing it over the coals.

Then, she walked quietly down the hall.

He was awake, barely. His eyes tracked her slowly as she entered the room. though his face stayed slack with exhaustion. The tension in his shoulders and weird posture gave away that he’d tried to push himself up and lost the will halfway. His breathing was shallow through his nose.

“I’m back. You alright?” Her voice was soft, instinctively hushed, already drawing closer to his bedside.

He blinked once, then nodded. “Didn’t set the place on fire, so… yeah.”

She gave a soft, breathy snort and pressed the back of her fingers to his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch. No fever.

“I brought your rifle. And some fresh things from the grocer,” she said, shedding her shawl and draping it over the chair. “Deputy Wilson gave me coin. From you. I told him I didn’t need it, but he said you’d pitch a fit if I came back empty-handed.”

His gaze drifted to the little satchel she’d carried in. “Didn’t want you footing the cost. Feeding me. Patching me up. It’s already too much.”

“Well,” she said, undoing the hat lace, “I used some of it to buy food. He said you eat like a bear after hibernation.” She glanced at him and gave a crooked smile. “I’ll make soup in a bit.”

A flicker of a smirk crossed his face, faint as a shadow, then gone. His voice came rough, almost sheepish. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She glanced up, straightening. “You don’t have to thank me every time I do something decent, sheriff. That’ll get exhausting for both of us.”

He looked at her then, for a long moment, with heavy-lidded eyes and something unreadable flickering there behind the pain. “Force of habit, I guess.” Then, quieter: “I didn’t want to make trouble.”

She stepped to the bedside and folded the blanket down from his ribs, careful not to pull at the dressing. Her fingers brushed the edge of the gauze, checking for dampness. “You’re not trouble,” she said plainly. “You’re injured. If I didn’t want to deal with the mess, I wouldn’t’ve dragged your bleeding body through the door, would I?”

That made him exhale something between a laugh and a wince.

“I’ll get the soup started,” she said, smoothing the blanket back over him with her palm, pausing halfway up his chest. Her hand lingered a moment, just a beat, then withdrew. She hesitated near the foot of the bed, then nodded toward the old tin jar next to the nightstand. “Do you have to… you know. Use the jar?”

His gaze darted away, and he clenched his jaw, sensing his cheekbones ruddy with embarrassment. “…Yeah.”

“Alright. Can you manage it on your own like before, or do you need-?”

“I’ll manage, ma’am.”

----

From where he lay, too battered to do more than breathe and not split his wound open, he could hear the creak of floorboards as she crossed from the little guestroom -where she seemed to sleep now- to the kitchen, the brief creak of a cabinet opening, the clink of tin on enamel. Water being poured. Her voice, low, warm, humming something, a tune to pass the time.

He let his eyes fall shut. Not from sleep. From the weight of the situation. From the foreign comfort of knowing someone else was taking care of the fire, the lighting, the food.

Then the smell hit his nose, onion, garlic, maybe a touch of rosemary, something hearty and meaty.

Christ, when was the last time he’d had a meal that wasn’t lukewarm beans or the dry-ass bread some rancher shoved into his hands after a day of work? Before the hotel deal, it had been mostly tinned shit: whatever could sit on a shelf for two winters without sprouting something alive. Since coming to town and becoming sheriff, the hotel owner had insisted on bringing him food daily. He didn’t trust the old man’s idea of nourishment, meat stringy as tendon, coffee like mud, potatoes with the consistency of river clay. But he had worst.

Still… none of it held a candle to the smell in this house.

His stomach gave a weak groan of approval, then turned on him for remembering the chalky paste they used to serve at the orphanage. Gruel. Oatmeal so thin it wept down your throat and stuck to your throat like lard. He remembered trying to swallow around it, trying to keep his tongue from touching the roof of his mouth just so the bland texture wouldn’t coat everything. He made a face. That shit had been the closest thing to punishment without a whip they had. Even now, decades later, his mouth remembered the dull horror of its taste.

Now, for the first time in a long time, he felt the ghost of something he hadn't dared name, longing, maybe. Or homesickness. The cruel kind. The one you feel when you realize you’ve never really had one.

----

She came in slowly, with the enamel bowl balanced carefully on a wooden tray, and the warm, savory promise of meat, veggies, and a thick slice of bread, with a golden and imperfect crust perched beside it. She crossed the room, and sat beside the bed with her knees nearly touching the mattress.

"You can manage or-"

"Yes, ma'am."

She gave a short nod, setting the tray aside on the nightstand and sliding an arm behind his shoulders and chest to help him sit. Her palms were warm, and his skin twitched where her fingers brushed it, his ribs, and the slope of his shoulder. It shouldn’t matter, not after she'd cleaned and seen all his body, and bandaged him. But for some reason, this felt different.

Maybe because he was watching her now. Maybe it was because he wore that ragged charm like a second skin, paired with unpolished courtesy.

“Here we go,” she murmured, settling the tray over his thighs.

“Try to go slow. It’s been days since your stomach held anything more than milk. Don’t want it coming back up.”

She turned to leave, but then paused, catching on the shape of his mouth, the rough way he held the spoon, wary of every gesture, like his body didn’t quite trust itself.

And there it was again.

The memory, vivid and close. The warmth of his weight slumped against her chest. Her hand curled at the base of his skull, her fingers tangled in sweat-damp hair. The way his throat worked helplessly when she coaxed him to swallow. His lips around the rubber teat of the bottle, desperate and fevered. How close she’d held him. How instinct had guided her words, with soft, gentle encouragements, like a mother to a baby, except it hadn’t felt maternal. Not then. Not now.

She felt the heat bloom in her cheeks and turned away quickly, clearing her throat.

“I’m going to eat my share,” she announced, too casually. “I’ll come back later to pick up the plate. Won’t offer you seconds today, let’s see how your stomach reacts to this.”

He didn’t answer right away, bringing the trembling spoon to his mouth.

Paused.

Swallowed.

His eyes drifted half-closed for a second like he was relishing the taste. He looked at her then, with a ghost of a smile on his face. “Thank you.”

He waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before letting the spoon hover again over the soup. The steam curled into his face, coaxing something low and needy in his gut. The scent -fresh vegetables, meat boiled down to silk- threatened to undo him more than a bullet ever could. It was good. Not just edible, not just hot. Good.

Goddamn.

His hand trembled weakly, but he managed another mouthful. His whole body urged him to shovel it in, to tip the bowl and gulp it down like an animal, but he didn't. Couldn’t. He knew how this worked. The second he gave in to the desperation, was the second his stomach would revolt, and then she’d be back, cleaning his vomit off the sheets.

He wouldn’t put her through that.

So, he paced himself. Spoon by spoon. Each swallow was a battle against the part of him that still lived as he’d die with an empty belly. The part that remembered starvation not as a story but as a sensation tattooed behind the ribs.

He let his eyes drift shut after the third or fourth spoon. The flavor dragged bad memories of meals eaten on cold steps, hoarded crusts, and bitter coffee watered down to stretch for two days. This was also not that hotel swill they shoveled into him because it came with the badge, not the canned shit he kept in his desk at night.

His mind wandered, tracing the fight.

There’d been five. No insignias, no uniforms. Thought they’d found easy prey. Maybe they had. Still, he didn’t go down soft. The pistols had emptied first, then the blade, then his goddamn fists. They had shot his horse. He remembered that clearly. Heard the scream, the crash of its knees giving up.

And then the rest got murky.

But he must’ve finished it. Must’ve finished them, because if they were alive, they’d have sniffed their way here by now. It’d been four days, and no one came knocking. No creak on the porch. No shadow against the curtains. Just the soft noises of the ma’am in the other room, humming.

Still. He didn’t regret dragging his broken ass to the kitchen cupboard when she was away. Nearly passed out, but he'd found what he needed. The Colt was back in hand, tucked under the pillow. Cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

He took another spoonful. Let it sit in his mouth. Thought about the way she’d held him, how careful her hands had been, how warm her eyes were.

She wasn’t afraid of him. Not yet.

That was the worst part.

Next Chapter

Permanent taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #Sheriff!Bucky #Sheriff! Bucky Barnes #Western! Bucky Barnes #A Star Without a Sky

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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months ago

Text

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officer

Summary: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different.

Word Count: 7.2K (she got away from me real fast)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (It's implied that Javi got the snip, we're good y'all), oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, sex toys, roleplay (kind of? Javi's got access to handcuffs and you're giving him enough attitude to bring out the brat tamer in him 😵‍💫), rough sex, creampie, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom!javi (but still the same sweet, soft Javi that we all know and love who loves his wife), a sprinkle of a breeding kink (because it's trademark at this point), heavy on the praise kink, sexting, safe word/consent (hawt), spanking (not that hard), one AFFECTIONATE use of slut!, Javi is our aftercare king (are we surprised? no.) Javi's mouth is so filthy I'm washing my own out with soap, I'm not gonna lie to y'all, this is NASTY and I don't think I've ever put this many warnings for something lmao (also, still fluff and dad!Javi because I say so)

A/N: ....... Soooooooo, yeahhhhhhhh. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written 🤠 Steppin' a little out of my normal comfort zone for this one- idk what's in the water this month, but I think someone may have to come put me out to pasture pretty soon!!!! Checking myself into horny prison with a life sentence!!!!! I hope you guys enjoy, I know it's different than the norm, but lemme know what you think 🥺 Thanks for supporting me through my horny endeavors, ily all!!!

The days of chasing down bad guys and capturing criminals were a thing of the past for Javier Peña- at this point, the closet he'd come to his past life in Columbia in his position at the Laredo Sheriff's Department was using every ounce of patience he had to deal with his knuckle headed co-workers whenever they did something stupid.

While the job title "Border Protections Consultant" provided Javi with a much quieter and calmer life than working as a DEA agent, when his daughters had asked him to come in for Career Day, their classmates were convinced that he might as well have been straight out of "Men in Black."

Unfortunately for the other parents who had decided to show, Javi's appearance had out shadowed any of the other jobs after his daughters classes had learned he worked for the Police Department to help catch "bad guys" (even if the better part of the class had decided to ignore the fact he wasn't the one physically going out to stop them).

After showing off some cool accessories he had brought with him from the department and sharing some watered down, age appropriate stories to make his presentation more interesting, the Peña girls were the talk of the town at Alma Pierce Elementary, riding the high of being dubbed "The Kids With the Coolest Dad" by everyone in their class, especially after he signed them out early with promises of slushies before heading home.

So when Javi and the girls arrived back to the house, it was no shock to you that your daughters were still beaming with excitement about their dad's celebrity appearance.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Lucy, your oldest squealed as she burst through the door, dropping her backpack with a thud to greet you in the kitchen, "Dad had the best job at all of Career Day. All the kids in my class said he was the coolest one."

"Oh was he now?" You smirked, watching as Javi and your other two daughters, Elliot and Harper, trailed behind Lucy, equally beaming with excitement.

"Yeah! That's what all the kids in my class said too!" Elliot exclaimed, plopping herself down next to her sister at one of the barstools at your kitchen island.

"Me too!" Harper added, finding her usual spot next to her sisters.

"Looks like someone's reached celebrity status." You giggled, playfully raising your eyebrows at Javi as he came to greet you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other dropped his work bag on the countertop, pulling you closer for a kiss.

"What's a celebrity?" Harper asked, staring at her sisters in confusion.

"Someone who's like, really famous." Lucy answered, Elliot nodding adamantly in agreement that her dad was, in fact, their elementary school's newest celebrity.

"So I take it the presentation went well then?" You asked, shrugging at Javi, trying not to blush with pride from his daughter's admiration.

"Guess so." Javi replied, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it next to his bag, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows before reaching in one of your cabinets to grab a glass of water.

"Dad told our class about how he helps catch bad guys and put them in jail, for like, forever."

"And he told everyone about how a long time ago, before he was old, that he used to go run through the streets and catch people and put them in handcuffs!"

"He even brought in handcuffs for everyone to see!"

The last comment most definitely caught your attention, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head at Javi, trying your best to keep from letting a suspicious smirk spread across your face.

"Oh? Daddy brought handcuffs? Daddy doesn't normally use handcuffs at his job. I wish I would have gotten to see them."

While your girls would have never noticed anything unusual about your question, Javi was nearly choking on the sip of water he had just taken, very clearly understanding the implications of what you had just asked, coughing a few times as he tried to compose himself.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Harper asked, looking at Javi with concern.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm good, baby. Just didn't know Mommy wanted to um- wanted to see my handcuffs so badly." Javi stammered, glancing over at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"You should show her! They're really cool, Mom!" Lucy proposed, her sisters nodding along in agreement, blissfully unaware of the tension rapidly thickening between you and Javi.

"Um- y-yeah, maybe later, Lu." Javi stuttered, still keeping eye contact with you as he answered his daughter, "Why don't you guys um- why don't you guys go play outside for a little bit."

"Really?! Before homework?!" Elliot squealed in surprise and delight.

"Yeah, go- go play. Mom and I will come get you guys in a few."

Javi could barely finish his sentence before your girls were sprinting to the backyard, leaving you and your husband alone in the kitchen in a silent stare down until the backdoor was shut behind them.

"Man, you must reallllyy wanna show me those handcuffs, Javi." You cooed, tongue darting out of your mouth as you bit down on your lip, getting a kick out of how rattled one little comment had made him.

"You better be careful with that shit, Hermosa." Javi groaned, stepping towards you, hands sliding down your back until they were groping your ass, slowly kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

"Yeah? Or what? You gonna use them on me?" You mewled, whispering in Javi's ear, the hot breath of your words making him audibly moan, taking a deep inhale and exhale to try and keep from busting right then and there.

"Jesus fucking christ- If you're gonna keep teasing me like this, then maybe I fucking should." Javi sighed, pulling you closer to feel the bulge hardening in his slacks, pressed against your thigh.

"Is that a threat, or a promise, Officer?"

At this point, you knew you were playing dirty, but you couldn't help hit, sultry smile spread across your lips at the way Javi's jaw had gone slack, practically hitting the floor in horny disbelief that your night was about to take such drastic turn.

"Depends, has sido una chica mala (have you been a bad girl)?" Javi hummed, voice rumbling deep in his chest as his grip around you tightened, eyes growing dark with lust, watching you play innocent, batting your lashes up at him.

"Para ti? Si. (For you? Yes.)"

Letting out a low, quite laugh, Javi shook his head before reaching one of his hands up, wrapping his fingers around your jaw and top half of your neck, forcing your gaze up at him and his smug snarl.

"Then it's a promise." He paused, the two of you staring at each other with a silent thrill of excitement pulsing through your veins. "Go pack the girl's bags, I'm dropping them off at my Dad's."

"Javi, are you sure? It's a Friday night, we can't just drop them at your dad's like this last minute. What if he-"

"Talked to him earlier this week. I know he's not busy. Even if he was, he'd drop whatever it was to have a sleepover with the girls. Like I really need to twist his arm to watch them."

"Okay, well what are we gonna tell him when he asks why we're dropping them off unplanned?" You retorted, knowing Javi wasn't wrong, but feeling bad for springing your girls unsuspectingly onto your father-in-law.

"That it's an emergency." Javi shrugged, his mouth working faster than his brain to find an answer to your question.

"Being horny isn't an emergency, Jav." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your husband.

"I'll figure something out. And if you keep talking like that to me, it most definitely is an emergency." Javi smirked, gaze of his reassuring, sweet brown eyes winning you over with ease.

"Okay. Go call your dad, I'll get the girls ready." You grinned, anticipation bursting at your seams as Javi raced to the back door, throwing it open to yell out to your daughters.

"Pollitas (little chickens)! Come inside, we're going to Abuelo's!"

The two of you were convinced you'd never worked faster to get your daughters out the door, frantically throwing together their sleepover bags with their help before Javi was nearly tossing them into his truck, the girls none the wiser and happy as could be to have a surprise sleepover with Chucho.

"Thanks again for watchin' em, Pops. We'll come pick them up in the morning." Javi nodded, giving his dad a quick hug after dropping off Lucy, Elliot and Harper, who had blessed him with a short and sweet goodbye as they rushed off to the barn to go feed the horses, leaving Javi to part ways with his dad.

"Of course, hijo. You know I love having mis nietas (my granddaughters) here, even when it's a surprise. I must have missed it on the phone, but what was so urgent? Not that I'm complaining." Chucho asked, resting his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, patiently waiting for his son's response.

"It um- something uh- something came up, and I-" Javi stammered, face turning bright red as his eyes darted towards the ground, trying to come up with some sort of bold faced lie off the top of his head before his dad cut him off.

"I thought I done getting grandkids?" Chucho smirked, relishing in Javi's uncomfortability, having a sneaking suspicion exactly why his son had made such a quick and urgent request.

"Jesus, Dad..." Javi sighed, burying his face in his hands to try and hide his embarrassment, not confirming or denying his father's acquisitions.

"Makes me happy to know you two are still very much in love." Chucho chuckled, patting his son on the back.

"Okay, I'm gonna go now," Javi huffed, scrunching his face in shame, giving his dad one more awkward hug before trotting back to his truck, "Thanks, Pops."

"Don't mention it, Javier. Take your time tomorrow. Tell your wonderful wife I say hello and that I hope the two of you have a fun night toget-"

"Jesus Christ... Bye, dad." Javi groaned, climbing into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming the door behind him as Chucho disappeared into the house, giddily laughing to himself.

Meanwhile, while Javi was busy dropping off the girls (insisting that you didn't come, because he'd have zero self control if you did), you had decided to go digging through the back of your underwear drawer, looking to find something to surprise Javi with when he returned home.

You pulled out a few choices, tossing them onto your bed to browse through before finding a black, lacy set you had almost forgotten about- the delicate, barely there, see through lace of the bra paired with the equally as skimpy thong seeming like an ideal option for the night ahead of you.

If you weren't already thrumming with enough anticipation as you changed into your new attire, your phone lit up on your nightstand, buzzing as Javi's name popped up on the screen.

Javi: Leaving Pops. Be back in 20.

You stared up at the clock, quietly calculating Javi's arrival time before you were interrupted by another vibration.

Javi: Wait on the bed for me. Don't touch yourself until I'm back.

You could almost hear Javi's voice, commanding you with just enough sternness, but not enough to stop you from pushing the limits just a little.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up your camera, dropping to your knees in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, seductively posing to tease just enough of your surprise to get Javi home to you in 12 minutes instead of 20.

You: Yeah? And what if I do? 😉

You smirked as you sent your text and picture, giggling to yourself at Javi's near immediate response.

Javi: Fuck me. You're so fucking sexy.

Javi: Your pussy's all mine tonight. Be a good girl and do what you're told. Bad girls get punished.

You: Maybe I wanna be punished 😏

Javi: Careful what you wish for baby. See u soon.

You could already feel your stomach swelling with arousal, your text messages alone beginning to soak a damp patch into the lace of your thong, making the fabric clinging around your swollen and puffy pussy, leaving you with a throbbing ache between your legs.

You wandered over to your nightstand, searching around the back, just like you had done with your dresser, looking through the few toys kept there. It had been a while since any of them had made an appearance in your bedroom, not because you or Javi were opposed to it, but because with how religiously Javi wanted to be the one who made you feel good, it wasn't often they were going to use unless you were uncontrollably horny and Javi wasn't home.

And even though at this point he'd be home in 15 minutes, right now, you found yourself in both of those categories, the added layer of seeing if he'd make good on his threat only turning you on more.

With the way your clit was throbbing and cunt clenching around nothing, you opted for your rabbit vibrator, climbing into bed with the toy as you settled yourself into the pillows, lying on your back and spreading your legs to try and ease the ache between them.

You ran the head of the toy over the soaked fabric of your panties a few times before pulling the damp lace to the side, shuttering as it brushed against your clit. With how wet you were from want, you easily slid the tip of the toy into your entrance, sinking it deeper into your pussy until the smaller end was hitting against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whimpered at the sensation- still feeling no where near as good as what Javi would, but finally easing the fluttering of your pussy and throbbing of your clit was enough to give you temporary relief for now.

You thanked whatever lucky stars were out there in the universe that your vibrator had battery power left, clicking it on to feel the low hum shoot through your lower half, making you squirm against the sheets.

You lazily dragged the vibrator in and out of your heat, just enough to prod against your g-spot without leaving your clit untouched, imagining Javi's length thrusting in and out of you while the worn pads of his fingers circled your throbbing nub, whispering filthy, sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you.

"That's it, pretty girl. Make yourself feel good. So fucking wet, making such a mess for me."

You threw your head back on the pillow, clamping your eyes shut as you let the scene continue you to play out in your head, turning up the intensity of your vibrator as you rocked it faster and deeper into your cunt.

"You're taking it so well, baby. My good girl. There you go. Pretty little pussy wants to cum so bad, huh? Greedy thing couldn't wait for me to take care of her like I asked?"

You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you could have sworn you'd heard Javi speaking to you. Too lost in your imagination, you didn't stop, feeling your orgasm beginning to creep through your body. So lost, that you didn't hear the heavy footsteps padding their way to the edge of the bed or broad body looming over you.

"Just couldn't wait until I got back, huh?"

Your eyes shot open, the all too familiar low and sultry laugh much too real for you to have imagined, looking up to see Javi standing over you, hands on his hips as he watched you fuck yourself on your vibrator.

"Javi! J-jesus, baby. You scared the shit outta me." You huffed, trying to catch your breath as you scrambled to turn off your vibrator, whining at the loss as you pulled the soaking toy out of you, sitting up straighter on the bed.

"Wouldn't have scared the shit out of you if you did what you were told." Javi tutted, smirking to himself, "You gonna be a good girl and do what you're told, or am I gonna have to teach my pretty little wife a lesson about following directions?"

Before you could say anything, Javi was grabbing you by the hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your legs dangled off the mattress, letting him lean in to give you a desperate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing in a messy fight. With his hands frantically roaming your body, tracing over your lacy silhouette, he pulled away from your kiss just enough to let the words of his whisper dance against your skin.

"Donut. If it's too much. Repeat it back to me."

"Donut." You moaned, nodding your head in agreement at your safe word.

"You promise you'll tell me if it's too much? I don't wanna hurt you, amor." Javi asked, the familiar sweet and sensitive concern of your husband unveiling itself through your facade, puppy eyes locking with yours for confirmation.

"I promise. Damelo, Papi. (Give it to me, Daddy). "

As soon as your eyes locked in harmony, giving Javi your promise, the once sweet and innocent gaze had now turned to something much darker, the brown of his pupils pooling with lust, reaching behind you to grab the vibrator laying on the comforter, still covered in your slick.

Dropping to his knees, Javi parted your thighs, settling himself between them to admire the wet, puffy mess you had already made by yourself, running his fingers over the lacy fabric that had been barely covering it up, tugging it tight like a rubber band before letting it slap against your pussy, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you.

"She's crying for me, isn't she, baby? Poor thing. Trying to fuck yourself on this, wishing it was my cock, weren't you?" Javi scolded mockingly, turning on the vibrator and running it through your folds, teasing you everywhere but where you wanted to be touched.

"Y-yes. Wanna cum all around your cock, Javi." You moaned, face scrunching as he slid the toy up and down your weeping slit.

"But bad girls don't always get what they want, do they? Sometimes," He paused, slipping the toy into your hole until the longer curve was flushed to your g-spot and the shorter to your clit, "sometimes, they have to beg for what they want. You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?"

"Make me."

The words rolled off your tongue with a bratty confidence, a challenge you knew damn well he'd accept. Javi turned on the vibrator, cranking it up to it's highest setting, tongue running over his teeth as he watched your body jolt, grabbing fist fulls of your bedsheets to brace yourself.

"Oh fuck-" You muttered, swallowing hard, trying to suppress the shock of pleasure that had ignited in you as the vibrator thrummed at full force, Javi pushing it right up against the soft spongy spot inside he knew drove you wild, making sure the other part of the toy stayed nestled between your folds.

Javi could see your pussy beginning to flutter, clenching tighter around the toy as arousal began to seep out of your hole, pressing the vibrator deeper into you, only egging your impending orgasm on further.

"I know you wanna cum, baby. Ask nicely before I make you beg for it." Javi groaned, the hand not holding the vibrator now digging into your hip, holding you in place.

"N-no." You stammered, confidence wavering as you felt the tingle at the base of your spine start to spread rapidly through your body. Gripping tighter onto the tangled sheets, you felt your legs begin to tremble, cunt clamping down around the toy, about to cross the finish line until-

"Fuck! Nononono, Javi- fuck!" You cried out, whimpering as Javi yanked the vibrator from your cunt, leaving you empty and aching, the near high of your almost orgasm quickly dissipating.

"What's it gonna be, Hermosa? You gonna be good for me now?" Javi mewled, snarky smile spread between his lips watching your chest heave with heavy breaths after leaving you on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck- No. Make me, Javi." You huffed back, trying to keep cocky as if you weren't seconds away from crumbling under his touch.

Javi's response was nothing but a low laugh to himself, turning the vibrator back on high and stuffing it into your hole, fucking you with it more intensely than before. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, jaw going slack as the feeling of the fullness and buzzing consumed you, putting you back on edge of where you just were moments ago.

The only thought you could process was how close you were cumming, cunt throbbing and pulsing around your vibrator, body trembling with need as the coil in your stomach was about to snap.

"J-Javi, Javi, I-" You stammered, trying to string together a coherent sentence.

"What, baby? You gonna cum?" Javi asked, taunting you with his tone.

You tried your best to nod your head, nearly there, thinking that Javi would give in, only to let out another wanton cry as he pulled out the vibrator again, even more desperate and empty than before.

"Fuckfuckfuck! No, fuck! Javi, no-" You sobbed, white knuckling your sheets, bucking your hips into nothing, "Javi, let me cum. I wanna- fuck- I wanna cum!"

"Brats don't get to cum, cariño." Javi tutted, tossing the vibrator to the edge of the bed, caging your body under his, teeth nipping across your skin, hands cupping your lace covered breasts, fingers slipping under the fabric to tweak your pebbled nipples while his mouth met yours. "You want it? You get on your knees and beg for it like a good girl."

"And what if I don't? What if I don't wanna listen, Agent Peña?" You retorted, staring up at him with a devilish grin, trying to egg him on enough to reach for the handcuffs he had dangling out of the back of his pants pocket.

Reaching down to snake your hand between your bodies to try and rub your clit, you were stopped in your tracks, Javi wrapping is hand firmly around your wrist, grabbing it, and your other free arm to pin both your wrists to the bed above your head in his grasp.

He paused for a moment, looking down at you for a silent confirmation that you were comfortable with what was about to happen next, both of your heart beats pounding in your ears as you gave him a subtle, but adamant nod, biting down on your bottom lip with a sultry grin.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Fuck me-" He murmured to himself, trying to keep from laughing under his breath from pure exhilarated elation, breaking his stern facade. After a brief moment of self-composure, Javi was digging in the back pocket of his slacks, pulling out the shiny, silver pair of handcuffs that had gotten you in this position in the first place. "Either you listen, or I make you fucking listen, Hermosa."

"I'm sorry, Officer, I never have been a good listener." You cooed, batting your lashes and pouting at him with the big doe eyes and plush bottom lip, watching something animalistic begin to consume him.

In a sudden and frantic dance of limbs, Javi was clipping his handcuffs around your wrists, leaving enough room to wiggle them without pain in the confines of the cool metal, but with nowhere near enough room you were breaking free from them without his help. Bringing your now locked arms from above your head to in front of your chest, Javi was manhandling you off the edge of the bed to the ground, settling you to your knees in front of him.

A feverish thrill ran through you as you watched Javi undo his belt, metal buckle clanging as he shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, his painfully hard cock springing free, slapping against his stomach and leaving a trail of precum on the bottom of his shirt.

Your mouth watered as you watched his length bob in front of you, wishing your hands were free to wrap your fingers around his base, stroking him while you lubed him up with your spit and his precum before taking him into your mouth. Instead, it was Javi running his hand along his shaft, the other reaching down to thumb at your bottom lip, coaxing your jaw to go slack for him.

"Open." He commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tongue as you stuck it out, the warm and salty dribble of his precum leaking into your mouth.

Javi gleamed watching as your thighs clenched together beneath you, wiggling to try and give yourself any kind of friction as your slick coated the inside of your legs. He ran his hand across your cheek, cradling the back of your head as he ran his fingers through your messy hair, grabbing a fist full near the base of your neck to yank your gaze up at him.

"Could have cum by now if weren't gonna be sucha brat, baby girl. I know you want me to fuck you so bad. You wish that I was stuffed so fucking deep inside you, huh? But you're so fucking greedy for my cock, you'll take it wherever I give it to you, won't you?" Javi huffed, nostrils flaring as you nodded your head, his tip still resting on your tongue before your lips wrapped around the head of his shaft, taking him into your mouth as your tongue ran along the length of the thick vein pulsing in his cock.

With a subtle shift of his hips, Javi was thrusting himself deeper inside your throat, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, the curls at his base filling your nostrils with his sweet and musky scent.

“So greedy, you'll let me fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, won't you?” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching you fill with his length, "You're gonna be a good girl and let me stuff your throat so full of my cock that it'll fuck that bratty mouth right out of you, won't it, hermosa?"

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head while he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You nodded your head, looking up at him with teeth gritted and eyes darkened, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull, so demanding yet desperate at the same time.

"And after I fuck your mouth, I'm gonna fuck the brat out of you with my tongue," he paused, drawing back to slam his dick to the back of your throat, "I'm gonna fuck you with my cock," He paused again, repeating the motion, wetness dripping down your eyes and mouth from your tears and saliva, "I'm gonna fuck you 'till you're begging me to stop, because who does this pussy belong to, baby?"

Jerking back his hips, he freed his cock from your mouth, leaving you coughing as you tried to clear your throat, completed wrecked in the best way, the thick and musky tang of him still lingering on your tongue.

"It's yours, Javi. My pussy is yours, baby." You whimpered, your mask of cocky confidence now fading to reveal rampant your need and want, your pussy too painfully aching to hide it any longer.

Javi grunted, lifting you off the ground to guide you to your bed, letting your back bounce against the mattress as Javi once again settled between your thighs, slinging your legs over his broad shoulders.

You looked down to see his eyes widen as he admired the absolute wreck that had pooled between your legs, slick smearing your cunt and the inside of your thighs, pussy so swollen and shiny that you were convinced you had never been this worked up in your life without any sort of relief.

"Say it again, baby. Whose pussy is this?" Javi mewled, licking a long, flat stroke across your cunt.

"Y-yours, Javi." You moaned, bucking your hips into Javi's face, desperate for more.

"Louder, cariño. Let me hear who this pussy belongs to." The movement of his tongue repeated, this time added a few more broad strips, draping his hand across your stomach to hold you in place.

"Y-you! Oh fuck- It belongs to you, Javi! " You cried out, writhing under his touch, egging on the primal and possessive part of his brain.

"Do think you finally deserve to cum, hermosa? Poor pussy made such a fucking mess, I can feel her throbbing for me, baby." Javi taunted mockingly between licks of your cunt. "Beg for it, Osita. Beg for it like the filthy girl I know you are only for me."

There was no use in fighting it anymore, every shred of fight you had left in you had disappeared, leaving you a sobbing, whimpering mess, so dire to cum, you would have cried and plead for hours on end if that's what it would have taken for you to finally get what you wanted.

"P-please, Javi, please. Please, baby, I'll be good. Fuck- please make cum. Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Fuck!"

Your sobs were cut off as Javi dove between your legs, the slow and monotonous licks of your pussy now turning into him devouring you, sloppily eating you out like it was his last meal on earth, and he wasn't leaving a fucking crumb behind.

The way his mouth sucked and lapped at your clit had the coil in your spine that had been tightening over and over again for what felt like hours now reaching a near breaking point. Your wrists were straining against the handcuffs still clasped below your hands, writhing and thrashing under Javi's touch, wishing that you had something to grab onto to ground yourself.

"Fuck, Javi, Fuck- don't stop baby, please- ohmygod- I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-ahhhhhh!"

Your pent up orgasm crashed through you like a tsunami, every inch of your body radiating with such intense pleasure that you could feel your legs shaking around Javi's head, sobbing out with relief while you gushed arousal into his mouth, going limp with ecstasy.

But to your surprise, the sensation between your legs continued, Javi still relentlessly drinking you up, his pace unfaltering as he worked you through your high, clearly determined to make you cum again.

Latching his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, Javi sucked at your clit with a feverish intensity, fingertips gripping into your hips to keep you in place and hold you against the bed, keeping you right where he wanted you until he had you crumbling under his touch.

It wasn't long before the tingle at the base of your spine was building rapidly again, your pussy fluttering and throbbing, so sensitive from how long you had waited for release of your last orgasm that you could feel your second building just as fast as your first.

"I'm gonna- fuck- Javi, I'm gonna cum again, oh my- fuck- fuckfuckfuck!" You sobbed, limbs feeling like Jello as your next high hit you, eyes rolling to the back of your head, cumming so hard you were convinced you were seeing stars.

With your eyes scrunched shut, you hadn't seen Javi pulling away, shedding his shirt before grabbing your hips to flip you over, maneuvering you so your locked arms were outstretched in front of you and your chest pressed to the mattress, the firm grip returning to your hips to raise your ass in the air, wet and puffy pussy on display for him as he hovered at the edge of the bed behind you.

"Pussy's so fucking sweet, hermosa." Javi hummed, swiping two fingers through your folds and collecting your slick from your still trembling cunt, caging his body over yours as his other hand wrapped around your neck and jaw, pulling you up to flush your back against his chest, tacky with his sweat.

"Taste." He ordered, bringing the two shiny fingers to your lips, dipping them into your mouth while your tongue swirled around, tangy and sticky arousal filling your senses. "Think she's ready for me, baby? Or should I fuck you with my fingers until you're begging for my cock?"

"N-no, I want it, p-please, wanna cum around your cock so bad. Wanna feel you Javi, please." You whimpered, swallowing hard with Javi's palm still gently splayed around your throat.

"Okay," Javi paused, reaching down to grab the base of his shaft, coating his length with your arousal as he ran it up and down your slit until the blunt head of his tip was notching into your entrance, "but this greedy little cunt is gonna take everything I have to give her, understand?"

"Mhmmhmmm-" You nodded against his skin, whining as he sunk the rest of his length inside you, the sweet sting of his stretch setting you ablaze.

"Fuckkkk-" Javi muttered under his breath, pressing his body weight into you to force your chest back down to he bed and ass back up, running his hands over it, massaging the plump flesh before bringing a flat hand down to it, smacking it just hard enough to make you whimper.

"Dirty fucking girl. You loved getting fucked like this, don't you? Getting fucked like the pretty little slut you are just for me." Javi huffed through gritted teeth, giving your ass another smack as he dragged his cock out of your cunt before ramming it back into you.

"Mhmmmmmmhhhh- fuck- Just for- oh fuck- just for you, Javi."

He began to set a punishing pace, pounding into your g-spot, making sure that every thrust was flushed with your ass so that you took every inch of him inside you, practically punching the air out of your lungs with every stroke.

Javi felt so full inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was all consuming, the position he had you in opening you up to take as much as he could give. Your fingers tugged at the sheets, handcuffs rubbing against your wrists as you tried to brace yourself, so worked up and overwhelmed that you were nearly drooling onto the bed.

The noises coating the walls of your bedroom were unspeakably lewd- the wet squelching of your pussy, Javi's balls slapping against your ass, the wanton moans and grunts with every push and pull making your room sound borderline pornographic.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, fluttering around Javi's cock as he rammed into you, your legs beginning to tremble as you could sense your third orgasm creeping through your body. With how sensitive you were, you knew the wiry hairs around the base of Javi's shaft rubbing your clit would be enough to push you over the edge again, wishing you could reach back to grab Javi's hip, digging your fingertips into his tanned and sweat-ridden skin while you came.

"Javiiiiiiii- Fuck, fuck, fuck- I'm so c-close- Don't stop, don't stop, don't, Fuck!"

With each orgasm that crashed through you, your body became more and more loose, feeling like you were melting and floating all at once, all consumed by your dizzying high while Javi's pace remained steady, fucking you through collapse.

"That's my girl. Cum all over me. Let me feel you, baby." Javi smirked, giving your ass another smack as you cried out his name, too wrecked to let any other words form in your brain besides his.

Still staying stuffed inside you, Javi was scooping his arms around your front, one splayed across your middle to keep you upright as your sat back on your knees, the other back around your neck and jaw, tilting your head to lean back on his shoulder while he sucked at your pulse point.

You were all but sobbing at this point, pathetic whimpers and moans rumbling from your chest with each deep thrust of Javi's cock only intensifying as his fingers reached down to circle your clit, so sensitive that just the presence of his hand pressing around your nerve bundle had you crying out for him.

Your face was flushed with heat, sweat beading down your temples with the warmth of Javi's chest pressed against your back, feeling your heartbeat pound so loud you could feel it in your ears.

"It's too much- fuckfuckfuck- it's too much, Javi." You whined, the pitch of your voice registering higher and higher with each word that came spilling from your mouth, starting to squirm in his grasp. Your movement only made him tighten his grip, forearm pressing into your stomach and fingers locking around your jaw as he whispered in your ear.

"Nuh uh. This is what you wanted, remember, baby?" Javi tutted, somehow feeling like he was fucking into you even deeper than before, "You're gonna take what I give you. You're gonna cum for me one more time. Cum for me one more time and then I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me that I'm gonna leak out of you for days and make sure you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to."

The pads of his fingers pressed more firmly into your clit as they circled faster and faster, each snap of his hips crashing into your g-spot, the volume of your cries growing so loud, you had never been more thankful you didn't have any neighbors close by you were worried about hearing you.

"You're taking me so well, baby. C'mon, just one more, Hermosa. Be a good girl and give me one more. I know you can take it. Take it, take it, take it-" He groaned, chanting with each thrust with a low rumble in his throat, bearing his gritted teeth and flared nostrils as he fucked into you, knowing with the way your pussy was gripping him like a vice, you didn't need much more to get where he wanted you to go.

"Javi, Javi, Javi, Javijavijavijaviiiiii-ahhhhhh! Fuck!"

You were convinced that if Javi hadn't been holding you down, you would have floated away, cumming so hard that your vision went white, everything around you feeling like it was moving in slow motion as pleasure swept through every inch of your body, slumping into Javi, now finally chasing his own high.

"Did so good for me, baby. So fucking good." Javi praised, voice sweetening softly as he held you pressed to his chest, kissing and nipping at the damp skin on your shoulder. "Gonna fuck you so full of my cum. Bet you wish I could still knock you up, huh? Let everyone know who you belong to. Let them know that this perfect little pussy is all mine. I'm- oh fuck- I'm so fucking close. Feels so fucking good. Mierda- I love you so muc-ahhhhhhh-"

Javi's incoherent babbles were cut off by a final stutter of his hips, balls drawing up into his stomach as he spilled deep inside of you, warm ropes of his cum painting your velvety walls.

Still keeping himself stuffed inside you, you could feel the mix of your spend seeping out your spent hole and down your thighs, the dripping only exacerbated by the heavy heaving and panting of both of your chests, rising and falling in sync, so blissfully fucked out from your highs.

After a few seconds, Javi came to, pulling out of you with a hiss, reaching over the side of the bed to shuffle through his pants pockets, digging up the keys to the handcuffs and unlocking your wrists, gently kissing them where the metal had left red marks on your skin.

"Lay down, baby girl, lemme take care of you, okay?" Javi cooed, the flip of his demeanor instantly switching back to tender and soft, pressing a kiss into your messy hair as he shuffled to your ensuite, coming back with a warm washcloth to gently wipe up the mess between your legs.

"You've taken care of me plenty, Javier Peña. I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for the next week." You giggled softy, still giving your heart rate a chance to come down to normal.

Javi tossed the washcloth into the hamper next to your bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close to lay your head on his chest, tracing dainty circles with his thumb across your skin. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much? Sorry if I got carried away or-"

"Javi! Baby, why are you apologizing?" You asked, looking up at Javi as you felt his shoulders shrug beneath you.

"I just- I don't ever wanna hurt you, Hermosa.

"If you're trying to get me to stroke your ego and tell you that you have a huge dick, then yes, you do." You teased, the two of you softly snorting while Javi rolled his eyes at you.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Javi huffed, giving you a playful nudge.

"You take such good care of me, Jav. I know you would never mean to hurt me. Besides, I asked and you delivered. This was hot as fuck. This honestly may be a top 5 of all time." You smirked, nudging him right back.

"Yeah? God, you're so fucking sexy. We still got it after all these years, huh?" Javi smiled, pulling you closer to his chest, tickling you with kisses across your face.

"Yeah we do. Although maybe next time we get some more comfortable handcuffs. Those things do not feel good."

"Honey, they're meant to be used on actual criminals breaking the law. They're not supposed to be comfortable." Javi teased, laughing at your suggestion.

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, a peaceful and content quiet washing over you, basking in the warmth each other's bodies tangled together in a mess between your sheets.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what, Osita?"

"I don't know- having a more exciting job, getting to handcuff actual criminals, not just your wife. I just- I know that you always say how different and boring your job is now, and if you ever wanted to go back to doing something like what you used to then-" Before you could finish your thought, Javi was cutting you off with a passionate kiss, gently cradling your cheek in his palm, looking at you with those sweet brown eyes you loved so much.

"I don't ever miss it. My boring office job gave me a life where I have the most beautiful, amazing wife and daughters. There's nothing in the world that would ever make me even have a chance of giving that up. Besides..." Javi paused, sneaky smirk spread across his face.

"Besides what, Jav?"

"Using the handcuffs on you is way more fun."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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baocean · 1 month ago

Text

i tried to be good, am i no good?

pairing ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ criminal!jj x sheriffsdaughter!reader

synopsis ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ you were supposed to be safe, quiet, clean. sheriff’s daughter, sweet southern manners, reputation stitched into the hem of every dress. but jj maybank was all cigarette smoke and hands cuffed behind his back, and you’ve been wanting him since seventeen. he didn't look at you back then, not like he does now. and you pretend nothing’s happening, you still say your grace and keep the front door locked. but the window stays open. and his bruises look better when they're yours.

warnings ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ smut (minors stay away get out), choking, very brief mention of slapping, jj lowk being mean during smut, kinddd of almost getting caught, mentions of christianity and reader being minorly religious, afab!reader, swearing

notes ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ word count - 6kish words! inspired by 'crush' & 'strangers' by ethel cain. (edit: my admiration and credit belongs to @princessbrunette! they wrote a fic inspired by crush first, it is amazing and wonderful pls go read it! thanks anon)

you hadn't planned to stay long. just long enough to drop off the sandwich, the salad, the sweet tea in a mason jar to your dad, because he'd forgotten his lunch at home again.

it's hot out today and you shiver when you step inside the kildare county sheriff's office from the ac blowing. its quiet- no one is behind the front desk, there's no drunken yells coming from the holding cells. there's a radio humming 60's country music on low, but that's it.

it smells like floor wax and old coffee. you cross the lobby slow, careful not to make too much noise, keys still hooked around your finger.

you're headed to your dad's office, mentally preparing for the lecture you'll probably recieve for wearing a skirt this short, when the slam of a metal door against wall makes you jolt.

the first thing you see is your dad- kildare's sheriff, locally loved and adolescently dispised. he's got that look on his face that can only mean someone's managed to piss him off in the hour and twenty minutes he's been working, or he already knows about the length of your skirt.

it's the first one. your dad’s dragging someone in by the elbow. shirt stained, hair a mess, hands cuffed behind his back, and grinning.

your stomach drops. jj maybank.

you recognize him immediately. how could you not? his file lives in your dad’s top drawer. his name was muttered like a curse word at the dinner table. this is his second time this week getting brought in. something about a fight, something about resisting.

he's the kid who’s been in and out of this station so many times, he probably knows the code to the back door. he's the boy your mother didn’t even bother warning you about. she assumed you had enough sense to know better.

but maybe she should have taken the thirty seconds it does to ward you off him. because the crush you have on jj maybank? it's not the cute kind, it's not the kind you say out loud. it's sickening and a little humilating.

you feel kind of bad for it. you're the sweetest girl in town, getting straight a's in college, you can’t even say the word sex without getting red in the face. but still, you want him to press your face to the mattress and say 'so polite for everyone else, huh? let’s see how polite you are for me'.

sickening.

you didn’t know him, not really, but you knew of him. everyone did. that’s just how it works on a place like this, the island’s too small to hide anyone, especially not someone like jj.

he was a year older than you. he graduated, barely, from the public school on the island, got into fights, spent half his week in this here police station. while you had been kildare acadamy trained, clean reputation, polite. raised on yes sir, no ma’am, and don’t ever go near that maybank boy.

you've only spoken once, technically, if you want to count the time he held the door for you. lip split, blonde craze curling out from under his hat, he didn’t even look up at first.

you stepped past him, said 'thank you', real quiet, polite, like you were supposed to. he glanced up just long enough to say 'no problem, sweetheart' and then he was gone.

and that was it. so oviously, you've convinced yourself that you're a creep.

jj is still getting dragged across the lobby by your father.

“you’re really startin’ to make this a habit, sheriff,” he says. “you miss me or somethin’?”

your dad grits his teeth, but doesn’t answer. he looks over at you, huffing out a smile. "hey, kid."

jj looks up, and then he sees you. he actually stops walking for half a second, forces your dad yank him forward again. but his eyes stay locked on you, his head tilts like he’s trying to remember if you’ve ever spoken.

his eyes drag over you, slow and curious, like you don’t match the picture in his head.

then, he smiles. "afternoon, sweetheart."

you wondered if he had somehow, magically remembered what he had called you the first and only time you interacted with him, or if he just called every girl that.

he turns to your dad. “you ever get nervous lettin’ her walk around like that?”

your father tightens his grip on the cuffs. “watch your mouth, maybank.”

jj grins wider, eyes never leaving you. “just sayin’. you're braver than i thought."

“that’s my daughter."

jj’s eyebrows lift. “lucky man." his lips fall into a line, nodding his head. "she looks just like her mama."

you hide a jaw drop. his head tilts, then shakes it with approval.

they make it to the other end of the lobby, before your dad stops and yanks jj with him. he turns, giving you that look you're sure jj put on his face earlier.

"that thing's real short, kid."

"yeah, completely makes up for gettin' arrested, though. actually, i think i'll even thank you for this one, michael."

your father shoves him foward so hard jj stumbles, shoulder hitting the frame. he probably would've fallen if not for the hostile grip your dad had on the cuffs. but jj’s still smiling.

they pass through the doorway, the door slams behind them. and you’re left standing in a silence that buzzes.

you see him again five days later.

you're in the gas station, picking through the cold drinks while you wait for the gas pump to fill your car.

"look who it is."

you turn, and there he is, standing with just enough distance that it makes you kind of fidgety. his arms are crossed and he's already smirking like he won't end up in holding tonight.

you force your face into something neutral, pleasant, indifferent. like your heart isn’t already racing just from the sound of his voice.

“jj." you say carefully.

“you remember my name. i’m touched.”

you roll your eyes and walk toward the counter. he follows, slow.

“cute dress,” he says, like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just burn that image into his brain, “real sweet."

"thank you. you done?"

“not tryin' to cause a scene, sweetheart. just surprised, is all. figured you were only allowed out with a badge escort.”

“funny,” you say flatly, plucking a pack of gum from the display and tossing it next to your drink. “you been working on your material?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just watches you with that same unreadable look. the one that makes your stomach coil even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

“how fast do'ya think your dad would put a bullet in me if i kissed you?”

you go still. not in that flustered, overdramatic kind of way, but in that real kind of still. like your brain forgot how to move your mouth.

he doesn’t even look at you when he says it. just taps the cap of the soda bottle against the counter, head tilted slightly like he’s already picturing it.

the cashier hands you your change, not without a look of concern, and you walk out into the sun, hoping it'll hide your reaction to him.

jj doesn’t let more than two seconds pass before he pushes through the door behind you.

"okay, that was a joke. not really, but kind of."

you glance back at him, quick. he's a few steps behind, already squinting from the north carolina sun.

"it was a bad one."

"you got somewhere to be?"

you don't look back at him. your hand’s tight around your keys, your other fidgeting with the edge of your drink. “…no.”

“then come for a drive.”

your head snaps up, brows raised. “with you?”

he nods like it's simple, like it was obvious.

"why would i do that?" you ask, eyes flicking between the gas pump and him.

“beats standin’ here tryin’ to pretend we’re not both thinkin’ about it.”

you swear your whole body locks up, again. he didn't know...did he? no, he couldn't possibly know about the way you think of him at night. but the way he talks like he does makes a silent shiver run down your spine.

you take a deep breath a shake your head. "you aren't funny."

the gas pump clicks as jj laughs, you pull it out and replace it with the gas cap.

“wasn’t tryin’ to be. you comin’?”

you stand there, looking at him. he's smiling, like always, his shirt is stained with something black and is cut at the sleeves.

you hear your dad's voice in your head after the event at the station five days ago, comments made after arresting jj and then coming home and pointing a fork at you during dinner. “next time he looks at you like that, you walk away.”

you should walk away. you should politely decline and then run for the hills like he's chasing you.

“…you gonna bring me back?”

he grins, slow and tooth-biting. "promise."

the passenger side door creaks when he pulls it open for you. the seat’s hot, the truck smells like sun warmed leather and gas station gum and something darker, sweat and smoke and boy.

he drives with one hand on the wheel, arm lazy out the window. the breeze messes up your hair, but you don't try and fix it.

the road’s all winding road down by the lighthouse, no one on the road, no reason to feel this tense except for the boy driving like he’s got all the time in the world and none of it’s clean.

you’re hyperaware of the way his arm brushes the console between you, the way his knee shifts when he laughs. the way you keep crossing and uncrossing your legs, trying to shake the warmth climbing up your body.

he’s talking about something dumb, some fight on the beach, some busted cooler and a stolen fishing pole, and then he stops mid-sentence.

“hold up,” he says, low and casual, like it’s nothing. “you got somethin’ right there.”

before you can ask, his hand’s already in your space. his fingers brush over your shoulder, then up, slow and careful, until they find a little piece of something caught in your hair. maybe a leaf, maybe thread, maybe nothing at all.

he pulls it free but doesn't drop his hand. just twirls the same lock of your hair around his finger. once, twice.

you're staring at him with your lips parted, his eyes out onto the road as if he doesn't have you wrapped around his finger, figuratively and literally.

your breath hiccups. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t smile, just keeps twirling, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

and then he tugs. gentle, light, barely a pull.

he lets go like it’s nothing, but it doesn't stop you from gasping, only loud enough for jj to grin.

he flicks the piece of fuzz out the window, and leans back into his seat. “should see your face right now.”

you roll your eyes, uncross and recross your legs. you can't help the pink that appears on your cheeks as you stare out the winow.

jj looks you over again. looks at your hair, your jaw, your hands placed politely in your lap, your thighs.

he breathes out a shaky breath, almost like he's in awe he's got a girl like you here with him.

“your dad’s gonna kill me." he says after a beat. he says it with a little humor behind it, but even jj knows it's no joke.

"guess you better make it worth it, then."

the ballroom smells like citrus polish and catered chicken. everyone’s dressed in their best, firefighters in borrowed jackets, town councilmen in suits that haven’t fit right in a decade. your dad sits tall at your side, name printed on a place card in the center of the table. your mom keeps adjusting the silverware.

you’re in a long, light blue dress with a low neckline and bare shoulders, earrings your aunt lent you, and heels that look really good, but don't feel good.

and of course, jj has magically managed to weasel his way into this event as a waiter.

he's dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves cuffed to the elbows. hair combed but already falling out of place. there's a bruise shadows the left side of his jaw. he looks so out of place he might as well be glowing.

he's next to you before you know it. a hand appears at your side, steadying your glass. a second later, the sound of ice water pouring, slow and quiet.

you glance down. his sleeve brushes your arm. “miss.” he says.

he leans in just a little closer, not enough for anyone to take a second glance, but enough. “you look real sweet tonight.”

you tuck away a smile, a subtle hand reaching out to give a harsh tug at his belt, like that'll silence him.

he just lets out a breathy laugh, wandering over to the next table without giving anyone at yours a second thought.

the speeches start twenty minutes later, and you find a decent excuse to sneak outside before you're stuck in there listening to your dad's deputy talk about community.

you lean back against the stone railing, chin tilted up toward the stars you can barely see past the glow of streetlamps and floodlights. your heart’s still beating a little fast. too fast for someone who just needed air.

"knew i'd find you hidin' out here."

you turn, but you're not surprised. you were hoping he would follow you. hoping he would have some slimy, annoying thing to mutter under his breath.

jj’s already halfway to you, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled, shirt slightly untucked like he’s been messing with it all night.

“how long’d you wait before following me?” you ask, leaning back against the railing.

“waited long enough to make it seem like i didn’t.”

you sigh. jj steps up beside you, quiet for a moment. he smells like smoke and heat and cologne he probably stole. the bruise on his cheek looks worse under the glow of the patio lights.

you smile a little despite yourself. “you’re not even supposed to be here.”

“yeah, well,” he says, inching even closer, “lucky for you, i’m real good at bein’ in places i shouldn’t.”

you laugh, eyes flicking over him, bruised knuckles, undone top button, the way his hand brushes the edge of the railing next to yours like he knows he’s already too close.

“you never shut up, do you?”

he gasps, loudly. “woah. little miss raised-to-be-polite tellin’ me to shut my mouth?”

you glare. “jj-”

“no, no,” he says, all mock-offended. “what would your mama think?”

you shove his shoulder, failing to hide your grin. “don’t bring my mother into this, jerk.”

he grins, not wide, but slow, lazy.

“mhm.” he tilts his head. “you always this mouthy when you wanna kiss someone?”

your breath stutters. you blink at him and say his name all stern like.

“what?” he says, voice low now, soft at the edges. he holds his hands up like it's absolutely not his fault you're in this situation. “you told me to shut up. i’m just sayin’...there’s better ways.”

you don’t answer, you just step forward and kiss him.

you don’t warn him. don’t ask for the first time in your life. just grab his shirt in your fist and pull him down to meet you.

and for half a second, jj freezes like he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it. but he's moving again after a millisecond.

his hands find your hips, not soft, not questioning, and he pulls. drags you in until your chest hits his, until there’s no air left between you. his fingers flex against the fabric of your dress, not like he’s holding you, like he’s molding you into the shape he wants.

his mouth is hot, moving over yours like he’s got something to prove, as if he needs to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.

it's like a dream. this is probably what taking drugs feels like. you can't feel your limbs all the way, and you feel like you're floating.

then, you think you hear something. a laugh, a door, a creak maybe. maybe you're just so paranoid from kissing the kid who has his own personal cell at the station.

you try to pull back, just an inch. jj doesn’t let you. he's already finding his way back to you, muttering something like 'don't' as his lips crash into yours again.

it's rougher this time, messier, like he’s trying to drown whatever part of you was second-guessing. like he needs you distracted, breathless, his just a little longer.

and when he finally steps away from you, quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure someone wasn't running to go tell on you two. jj turns back to you, lips parted. then that grin returns, bigger than before.

he's breathless, pupils blown, lips pink from kissing you too long and too hard.

you look up at him, he’s beautiful in this light. ruined and smug and golden. an absolute wet dream that you'll be replaying in your head tonight.

“don’t follow me in,” you say, soft, still smiling.

“’course not.” he grins. there's a beat of silence as you walk past him, letting your fingers graze across his stomach just because you could. over his shoulder he says, “see you in five.”

you took a little more time getting ready this morning, just a little. a little more mascara, a little smoother with the hair, a dress you wouldn’t normally reach for on a saturday. nothing dramatic, nothing obvious, just soft enough, just pretty enough.

jj maybank is outside.

he’s shirtless, slick with sweat, halfway disappeared under the hood of your dad’s truck. he showed up twenty minutes ago with a smile like he wasn’t late. your dad, clearly annoyed but cornered, muttered something about a deal- fix the alternator and maybe next time he gets caught trespassing, the cuffs stay in the glovebox.

your eyes damn near bugged out of your head when your father explained it over cereal this morning. you haven't seen jj since you kissed almost a week ago, it's been killing you. so yes, you sprinted up the stairs and then destroyed your closet getting ready.

you're trying to make yourself look as busy as possible in the kitchen when he walks in. he's wiping grease off his hands with a rag and wearing that smug, sun warmed smile.

“your dad’s still cussing at the alternator,” jj says, casually grabbing your glass of water off the counter and taking a sip. “figured i’d come see my favorite girl.”

"sure, help yourself." you try and sound annoyed as you point to your stolen glass, it does not come out the way you want.

he tips his head up with a smile as to say 'thank you', then steps closer to you.

you can’t breathe. jj's still very shirtless. he smells like sun and motor oil and whatever trouble’s been festering between you since friday night.

“you haven’t called.” you say, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

“you haven’t either.”

that stops you. you open your mouth, then close it again.

jj watches you, gaze dragging over your face like he’s memorizing it, like he missed it more than he wants to admit.

“miss me?”

you tuck your lips and shake your head no, even though you're smiling, even though you're leaning against the counter like you're willing to do all the work for him.

he leans in a little, and you think maybe he's finally gonna kiss you again, before he glances toward the hallway and goes, “wait. which room’s yours?”

you freeze. “jj-”

he doesn’t even wait for permission. just tosses the rag on the counter and starts walking.

“jj, no-”

he opens the bathroom door, mutters 'not that one', and then continues. you close the bathroom door while you're trailing behind him.

you’re still whispering like it’ll help, like your mom won’t hear if you keep your voice at a hiss while chasing a shirtless felon down the hall. he ignores you completely.

he opens the last door on the left and stops in the doorway. he lets out a low chuckle and you freeze behind him. but he’s already stepping inside before you can stop him.

your bedroom is small, soft. quiet pinks and warm creams. throw blankets and stacked books and a half-open window letting in the breeze. a few dried flowers in a jar on your nightstand, a line of perfume bottles on the dresser, little sea-glass trinkets from the beach, half your closet is still sitting on your bed.

jj takes all of one second to look around before letting out a low whistle.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping away slowly, “i thought about this. you, what your room would look like.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. oh, totally knew you'd have a diary.” he grabs it from your nightstand, flipping through it without asking, humming.

you tear it from his hands, hoping he didn't see one of the thousands of times you've written his name in there, and toss it on the bed. “you’re such a jerk.”

he grins. his eyes land on your mirror, the cluttered edge of it, where a few photos are tucked into the frame, polaroids, memories. one in particular, slightly off-center, corners curling just the tiniest bit. jj steps closer.

“don’t even think about it.” your voice is laced with attitude, and you're already moving forward.

he ignores you again, plucking the photo from the mirror like it was his to take.

“jj.”

he doesn’t even look at you, just turns the polaroid over in his fingers to show you the photo, head tilted, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

it's the one of you at the beach, wearing some bikini the preacher at your church would force you into confessional for. you're laughing, your hair is all over the place, blowing in the wind.

“yeah,” he says. “this is coming with me.”

your jaw drops. “no, it's not.”

he shrugs. "sure about that?"

you snatch for it, but he's learned his lesson from the diary, and he lifts it higher. the smirk widening, like he lives to make you reach for things you shouldn’t want.

“what are you even gonna do with it?” you snap, crossing your arms, trying to cover the way your cheeks are burning.

he just stares at it, nodding like he's figuring it out in his head. then, he grins.

“gonna keep it under my pillow,” he says, voice low and warm, “until i fuck you in this exact bikini.”

you go completely still. heat explodes across your face, down your neck, in your fingertips. your jaw goes slack, your brain empties, your attitude? gone, totally gone.

"then i'll frame it." he nods one last time, shoving the picture into his pocket.

jj leans back just slightly, satisfied. his hand brushes your waist as he passes, slow and deliberate.

he presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s a favor, light, cocky, devastating. “thanks for the photo, sweetheart.”

and then he’s gone. screen door creaking, footsteps thudding down the porch steps, headed back toward the driveway like he didn’t just blow your entire soul out of your body.

and you stay there, flushed and speechless in the middle of your bedroom, already knowing exactly what he’s gonna do the next time he gets you alone.

it comes much sooner than you expect it. the same night, actually.

you haven’t moved in an hour. just lying there, tucked beneath soft sheets and fairy light shadows, staring at the ceiling and thinking about him.

about the polaroid in his back pocket. about what he said he’d do with it. about the way your breath stopped, and hasn’t really come back since.

it’s late, too late. the house is dead quiet, your parents asleep down the hall, the fan humming low in the corner, the sheets cool against your bare legs.

you sit up fast when your window creaks.

and there he is. blond hair a mess, wearing some dirty, old shirt, carefully tossing himself through your window and landing on the floor with a soft thump.

“jj, are you insane?” you whisper, scrambling to your feet. “you shouldn't be here."

he shrugs, "shouldn't do a lotta things."

he's already crossing the room toward you, eyes dark as they drop down the length of your legs and don’t come back up.

you're in white. thin cotton, lace trim, a little bow at the chest and straps falling off your shoulder like they’re tired of pretending you're not hoping for it.

jj blinks once. then again, and then drags a hand down his face like maybe that’ll stop the blood from rushing straight to his dick.

“jesus fucking christ.” he breathes.

you shush him, but can't help the blush that's creeping on your face.

“honestly jj,” you whisper harshly, “what are you doing?”

“missed you." he says simply, like that’s reason enough to sneak into your bedroom at nearly one in the morning.

“you’re gonna get murdered. my dad is right down the hall.”

he just shrugs.

"no, i'm serious. he's got a loaded gun in the closet i'm sure he's been dying to use on you." you say, breathless, pulling him away from the window anyway, like if he’s going down, you don't mind going with him.

“well then, you better keep quiet.”

you don’t even realize you’ve backed into the room until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

the window is still cracked, your fingers are still fisted in his shirt.

and then he’s kissing you, like he’s making up for every second he didn’t. like he’s not stopping unless someone physically drags him off of you.

he’s already pushing the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders like they’re in his way. you shudder when his tongue traces along the edge of lace.

you gasp into the air when his lips trail down your neck, slow and open mouthed and intentional. you whisper his name, almost a warning, already shaky.

he hums against your collarbone like you didn’t say anything at all.

“you said be quiet.” you breathe, barely able to form the words. like it's his fault you just made that sound, because it is.

“i did,” he murmurs, kissing lower, teeth brushing just enough to make you gasp. “you’re the one moanin’ about it.”

your hand fists in his hair and he smiles into your skin. his hands are on your thighs now, pushing the fabric up inch by inch. his palms are hot, steady, grounding and wrecking all at once.

you try to stay still, you try to be quiet. but then he pulls your night dress down to your ribs and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking. just a little, just enough to make you forget who's down the hall.

his grin is immediate.

"damn,” he hums, not even looking up. “you were doin’ so good too.”

“jj, please-”

“please what?” his mouth is right above your nipple now, lips brushing it every time he talks.

you look down at him, and let out some sort of twisted version of a sigh and a moan. and it only makes him bolder.

he kisses his way down your stomach, slow and open-mouthed, and when he reaches your hips, he pushes the nightgown up completely.

he pauses, sits back on his knees, and just stares.

you’re panting, red-faced, hands twitching by your sides, and he looks like he’s been punched in the throat.

“holy shit.” he says it like it slipped out, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you would try to cover yourself if it wasn't jj maybank sitting it front of you, already coming back to reach for you again.

he's lower now. jj drags his hands up the outside of your thighs, slow, thumbs pressing into soft skin, and leans back down, mouth kissing the inside of your knee first, and then higher.

his fingers peel your underwear to the side, his breath making you jump.

you’re shaking already, and then his mouth is on you. warm and perfect and so slow you nearly cry from it.

his hands keep your hips pinned. his tongue moves in maddening circles, and when you choke out a quiet “jj-” he groans into you, like he needs to hear it.

your back arches, he pulls you down by the hips, harder, his grip is bruising, his mouth is relentless.

he mutters something, then slides a finger in, and your jaw drops.

his mouth is back on you, eyes flicking down to where you're connected then back up to your face, over and over again.

he slips the second finger in slow, and when you gasp, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his wrist, jj just smirks and mutters, “jesus, tight little pussy. she’s not used to this, huh?”

his fingers are so deep it makes your vision blur.

you’ve touched yourself thinking about this before. jj between your legs. jj with his hands on your thighs. jj saying your name like he is now.

you’ve thought about it a hundred different ways, slow, soft, angry, teasing, but none of it, none of it, have even touched what this is.

you moan, high, wrecked, and slap your hand over your mouth like it might help.

you can’t look at him, not really. not when your thighs are shaking, not when you’re so wet you can hear it, not when your brain is fogged over with warmth and want.

this is so much worse than you imagined. so much better. jj talking shit between your legs, curling his fingers up into you while your back arches off the bed? this is everything, and he knows it.

you’re so close it feels like your whole body is about to snap. jj’s mouth is locked between your thighs, warm, open, sure, tongue dragging slow and deep, and his free hand is keeping you right there while he finishes what he started.

“fuckin’ unreal.” he mutters, only pulling back enough to get half of it out before he's back on you.

you’ve never been touched like this. never had someone lick into you like it’s for them, not you.

your legs start to shake and he feels it, tightens his hold on your thighs like he know you're gonna try to run.

“that’s it,” he mutters, low and steady. “just like that.”

you clench around his fingers, your eyes roll back, your mouth parts on a silent moan. and jj just stays there, mouth firm, tongue working in slow circles, sucking just right, until your whole body stiffins.

he lets you cum like that, quiet and wrecked and barely breathing, and doesn’t move until you’ve given him everything.

your legs are still twitching, your eyes won’t focus. you’re wrecked, flushed and messy and so far gone you couldn’t speak even if you tried.

jj just watches you. his hands are still on your thighs. his chest is rising and falling like he’s the one who came.

“gonna be thinking about that for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” he leans into you, kissing you once. “you want more?”

you don't think you've ever nodded that fast in your entire life. you can't feel your fingers, but they're already grabbing to get rid of his clothes.

“easy,” he mumbles, voice low, amused. “i’ll give it to you. don’t gotta tear my fuckin’ clothes off.”

you don’t say anything. just look at him, flushed, breathing hard, mouth parted, and tug him down into another kiss.

he groans into it, grabbing your leg and hooking it over his hip. his hand finds your thigh, squeezes it once, and then he leans back on his knees, reaching blindly for his wallet.

you’re still catching your breath when he tears the foil open with his teeth, eyes never leaving you.

“should’ve done this a long time ago.”

he says it like it’s nothing, like it’s just a thought that slipped out as he rolled the condom on. but it lands like a punch to the chest. your breath catches, your whole body stills.

he strokes himself once, slow, and leans forward again, gaze flicking to your face.

“are you sure?” he asks.

your hand finds his wrist, you nod. “jj please-”

“yeah, baby,” he says with the biggest, shit eating grin you've ever seen, lining himself up. “i got you.”

he pushes in, steady but deep, splitting you open in one long, perfect stretch that has your fingers clawing at his shoulders and your legs tightening around his waist.

he’s fucking you deep, slow, deliberate, one hand gripping your waist, the other curled into your soft, pink sheets.

the headboard’s silent, the sheets barely rustle, he’s keeping it controlled, keeping it just quiet enough to survive this.

but you? you're gone. your mind is hazy, half lost, like you're dreaming. like you're still floating somewhere between his mouth and his dick and the way he sounds when he moans into your skin.

your hands scramble for something, his arms, his shoulders, the sheets. and then you find his wrist, and you don’t even think.

you wrap your fingers around his forearm and pull, dragging his hand from beside your head and guiding it to your throat like it’s just where he belongs.

his hips still. his chest rises hard against yours. for a second, the only sound in the room is your breathing, high and shaky, like you don’t even know what you just did.

he stares at you. then down at his hand, his fingers twitch against your neck. you blink up at him, still panting, still trembling, still clenching around him like you want him to ruin you. and jj just grins.

“knew it.” he mutters, hand tightening slowly, just enough to feel your breath catch under his palm. “you’re not as sweet as you act, huh?”

he starts to move again, deeper now, heavier, his free hand digging into your hip to keep you still, to make you feel every inch.

“could’ve just asked.” he places a kiss to your jaw, your heart flutters.

his hips snap forward again and your body jolts, breath catching sharp in your throat, and it hits you. not the thrust, not the sweat-slick sound of skin on skin, the thought, the truth of it.

years of being good. years of doing exactly what was expected- chin up, shirt tucked, hands folded in your lap. never talked back, never crossed the line. of doing everything right because it was easier to be perfect than to be noticed.

and now you’re on your back, spread, mouth open, letting jj maybank fuck you like he's waited his whole life to.

years of being the girl people trusted, respected, relied on. and all it took was jj maybank looking at you the wrong way.

he groans something low and filthy against your shoulder and your whole body clenches like it wants to be worse for him, like it wants to see how far down you’ll go.

you feel sick, almost. because you should feel ashamed, you should feel guilty for this.

for how easy it was. for how badly you want it. for how much you don’t want to stop. but you don’t feel guilty, not even a little. and somehow, that feels worse.

jj slides out, slow, and wraps his fingers around your underwear, pulling down. before you can even question it, he’s got a hand on your hip, flipping you onto your stomach like it’s effortless.

you gasp into the pillow, dizzy from the movement, from the emptiness, from the cold that rushes over your skin, until he’s there again, behind you, covering you, pulling you up.

his arm wraps tight around your middle, dragging your back flush to his chest, his cock sliding back in deep and slow.

he’s so deep it knocks the air out of you. you can feel every inch, every grind of his hips. his hand comes up, slow and sure, fingers curling under your jaw, thumb pressing beneath your chin, and then he wraps his hand around your throat again.

“y' know,” he pants, voice thick with it, lips brushing the back of your neck, “i always knew you had a thing for me.”

you choke and whip your head as far as he's allowing to look at him. “what?”

he laughs. moans, really, thrusts again just to make you stutter.

“your little crush on me,” he says, smug and panting. “you thought you were subtle?”

it doesn’t register at first. but then it hits- like cold water, like fire in your veins. he knew. he knew.

“no, shut up-”

you want to bury your face in the pillow, you try to move down away from him, but he's got you locked.

“nah,” he huffs, grinning against your skin. “shit was adorable. made me wanna be good to you. made me wanna be so fuckin’ mean to you.”

his words, the angle, the way you're finally fucking jj maybank after two full years of pretending you didn't want to makes you moan a noise so loud it shocks you, too.

he pulls out halfway and thrusts back in. his hand slips from your throat to your mouth in one fast, practiced motion, palm pressed firm over your lips, fingers stretching up your cheek, holding you there.

“quiet,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “i mean it.”

you try to get a ''m sorry' out from against his palm, wide-eyed and already trembling.

“you want me to stop?”

you shake your head fast, desperate, pleading into his hand.

"then shut up."

his hips moving slow but heavy, each thrust dragging a sound out of you he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

his voice is low, wrecked against your ear. “you like that?” another thrust. “quiet now, huh? just needed it deep, baby, that it?”

he’s so deep it doesn’t feel real anymore, jj’s hips are steady, slow, like he’s trying to ruin you inch by inch.

then, the phone rings, loud.

you hear it. so does jj. so does your dad.

jj freezes. one hand still over your mouth, one still braced around your stomach. you turn your head to look at him, his expression caught somewhere between amused and very much not supposed to be here.

there's shuffling outside your bedroom, and your dad picks up on the third ring. his voice is muffled but right there, and it sends a cold wave straight down your spine.

jj doesn’t move, not right away. his eyes are on yours, dark and gleaming, like he’s waiting for something, permission, panic, surrender. your lips tremble under his hand.

and then, he moves. just once. a single slow, deep thrust that pushes every inch of him deeper into you, and rips a sound from your chest so sharp you think your whole body might short-circuit against his hand.

jj’s mouth curves against your shoulder, all teeth. “mhm. yeah, there it is.”

you sob into his palm, he just shushes you like you're doing something wrong.

his hand disappears from your face. just long enough for his palm to return with a sharp, perfect slap to your cheek, quick and hot and shocking, not cruel, but enough to make your breath catch and your eyes go wide.

he laughs, breathless, smug. “you play the good girl act so well. almost had me fooled.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. you're fifty percent humilated, fifty percent hoping he'll do it again.

he’s close. you can feel it in the way his rhythm starts to falter, the way his grip tightens, the way his chest presses tight to your back.

your body locks up, your vision goes white, and you cum hard, your whole body seizing around him, sobbing and shaking against him.

jj groans, low and sharp. “fuck, baby, jesus- fuck-”

he thrusts once. twice. and then he’s spilling into you with a soft, broken curse, his head dropped to your shoulder, his arms holding you close like he can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

the phone clicks. the house falls into a silence again.

you’re trembling. both of you are slick with sweat, breath sticky in the still air. he pulls out carefully, slow and aching, like it hurts to leave you. and then, without a word, he shifts,tugging you gently with him. you follow- limp, pliant, quiet.

you roll into his chest. he pulls you into him like muscle memory.

you blink up at him, dazed and flushed, and he presses a kiss to your temple. one, then another, slower.

he’s quiet for a beat. then he mutters, voice rough and dry, “if your dad kills me, just…tell him i said it was worth it.”

your mouth tips up into a slow, sleepy smile. jj shrugs, barely, his thumb brushing over your hip. “seriously. i won’t even put up a fight.”

you laugh, low and warm, and bury your face in his chest. if this is the last good thing he gets, he’ll take it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx season 3 #jj mayback imagine #obx jj #jj mayback x reader #jj outer banks #jj x you #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #criminal!jj #sheriffsdaughter!reader

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brookghaib-blog · 1 month ago

Text

The ghost I left behind- IV

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Word Count: 8,6k

Trigger Warning: Descriptions of abuse, non-consensual acts, and dv

Chapter III

Y/N's pov

The sonogram was warm in her hands, fresh from the printer, the paper still curled slightly at the edges. The tiny, blurry figure in the middle of the grainy image was the clearest thing she’d seen all day. Her boy. Her baby boy.

Y/N cradled the picture like it was something sacred, held close to her chest as she stepped out of the clinic’s sliding doors. The sun was high, but it wasn’t hot — the breeze was soft, like it had waited for her to come outside. She blinked up at the sky, trying to steady her breath. It should’ve been a good day. She wanted it to be a good day.

Her hand slipped into her coat pocket to find her phone, fingers moving from habit more than excitement. She scrolled to Mr. Cooper’s contact and hit dial. It rang once, then twice, and then his gentle, gruff voice came through the line.

"Hey, kid. You alright?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, I’m… I just got out. The appointment.”

A pause on the other end, before his voice softened. “And?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, holding up the sonogram again as if he could see it through the phone.

“It’s a boy,” she said. Her voice cracked just slightly. “I’m having a boy.”

There was a breath from Cooper, a quiet joy. “A boy, huh? Well, I’ll be damned. That little guy’s gonna have my old sheriff hat whether he likes it or not.”

She laughed through her nose, a brittle sound, eyes stinging. “Thanks for helping me get there. I know it’s not much, but—”

“You don’t owe me a thing. You hear me? Not one thing.”

Y/N smiled again, starting to cross the street, her fingers wrapped around the phone with one hand and the sonogram with the other. She wanted to keep them both close, like maybe this moment could make up for everything.

But then the air shifted.

The warmth of the sun dimmed in an instant, as if the light itself had been swallowed. A gust of wind pushed through the street, sudden and bitter cold, making her jacket whip around her. And then — screams.

It started as a murmur, then exploded like glass shattering. A crowd of people came sprinting down the sidewalk, faces twisted in panic, some pushing, others crying.

She turned instinctively, heart stalling.

“What the hell—?” Cooper’s voice still echoed through the phone in her ear.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered.

Then she saw it.

An enormous wave of darkness rolling down the street like ink pouring from the sky. No source. No center. Just shadow, alive and hunting. It crawled over buildings and lampposts, swallowing cars like they were made of air. People disappeared into it without a sound.

“No. No, no, no—”

Y/N turned, trying to run. Her legs ached. Her lungs already burning. She was so tired. Every step was a war her body wasn’t ready for. Her hands instinctively wrapped over her belly, shielding the baby.

The shadow caught her.

A pulse of cold gripped her spine. She collapsed, knees hitting pavement, the phone clattering out of her hand. She curled around herself, shaking. Her eyes squeezed shut.

“Please,” she whispered, to no one. “Please, not my baby.”

Silence.

For a moment, all she could hear was her heartbeat and the wind. No screams. No rush of air. Just stillness.

Slowly, she opened her eyes—

And the world was wrong.

The pavement was gone, replaced with pink carpet and posters of teen idols peeling off pastel-colored walls. She blinked fast. The smell hit her next — old perfume, cheap foundation, the ghost of tears. Her childhood room.

No. No, no, no, no—

She stood slowly, the sonogram still clutched in her hand, now crumpled. Her throat was dry, too dry to scream. Her fingers trembled.

And then she heard it — soft sniffles behind her.

Y/N turned.

There she was. Sitting in front of the vanity mirror, makeup streaking down her cheeks. Her eyeliner smudged, lips bitten raw from trying not to cry. She was wiping her face with trembling hands, muttering something to herself over and over.

She was alone.

Y/N took a step forward, mouth agape. Her voice barely came out.

“…no.”

The younger version of her didn’t turn. She just kept crying, wiping, trying to make herself invisible. Her tiny shoulders shook with the weight of years to come. The pain hadn’t even begun yet, but it lived in her eyes already — that hollow ache of being forgotten.

Y/N’s knees buckled.

She knelt on the floor, watching her past unravel in front of her like a cruel memory she never asked to revisit. Her chest burned. She knew this night. She remembered what came next — the door slamming, the silence afterward, the lie she told herself that she deserved it.

She remembered how broken she felt.

And now she was here, again, somehow — years later, a different woman, with a baby boy growing inside her — being forced to relive the origin of all the hurt.

Tears fell freely now. She reached toward her younger self, but her hand caressed her hair.

“Don’t believe him,” she whispered. “You’re not unlovable. You didn’t deserve it.”

The girl didn’t hear her.

30 min's ago - WatchTower

The Thunderbolts had failed to contain what Valentina had hidden in the bowels of the compound — Bob, or what he had become.

The Watchtower’s holding area was in ruins now, its steel walls torn and warped like foil. Sentry hovered in the aftermath, bathed in eerie sunlight that seemed to dim as he rose higher. His eyes were gold-white, glowing like small stars. The team below — Yelena, Bucky, Alexei, Ava — all stood bruised and stunned after the encounter. They hadn’t stood a chance.

They just run, holding together in the elevator to their way out.

Valentina stood in the observation deck, fists clenched against the railing, watching as her most powerful asset simply hovered, silent, still. She snapped the comm open, voice coiled with venom.

“You were supposed to finish them, Sentry,” she hissed. “That was the deal. Loose ends are dangerous.”

Inside his helmet, Bob’s jaw tightened.

“They weren’t a threat to me, there's no reason to kill them,” he said softly, his voice laced with something unplaceable. “They wanted to help.”

“They were going to contain you. Chain you up,” she snapped. “Like they always will. Like she will, if you ever go back.”

Bob’s breathing quickened. He felt it again — that slow unraveling of clarity, like silk tearing at the seams. The image of Y/N crossed his mind, soft and shimmering like a memory soaked in sun.

Valentina’s voice dragged him back.

“You think she’ll still want you? After all this? After what you’ve done?” Her voice softened, almost mocking. “You’re not him anymore. You’re not the man she loved. You're a little freak now, not her sweet Bobby.” She said smirking. "You follow my orders, you're my employee."

He turned slowly.

"First of all, why would I...a God... follow you're orders. Do you know what I'm capable of?... Maybe I need to show you."

She barely flinched when he appeared. His hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her off the floor, pinning agasint the nearst wall, her eyes widened.

“And second of all. You don’t get to say her name, or even talk about her in way anymore.” he growled.

And then—click.

A sharp, deliberate sound echoed in the room. Mel. Silent and ghostlike, standing in the shadows, holding the black device in one gloved hand. A button pressed.

It was their failsafe. A synthetic trigger engineered into his bloodstream.

Bob gasped, light crackling from his skin, golden energy fracturing into black tendrils. His eyes flickered — from gold, to nothingness. To void.

Valentina just smirks at the scene. "Well well, looks like you resolve your loyalty issue".

Mel just give her the switch and dismiss her words, "I want a raise."

It wasn’t a kill switch. It was a collapse switch.

Bob didn’t scream. He didn’t fall. He just changed.

The light inside him flickered — gold flaring once, then warping into sickening black. His hands curled inward, his veins pulsing dark. The suit clung to him like oil as his feet lifted from the ground, and then—

He was no longer Bob.

He was no longer Sentry.

He was Void.

A shadow the size of a god rose into the air, its edges tearing against the clouds. Its shape was man-like only in suggestion — too fluid, too monstrous. Wings like smoke, teeth like glass, eyes like stars dying out.

The wind changed. The sky darkened. Even Valentina, hardened as she was, took an unconscious step back.

The Void circled the tower once, slow and deliberate. Watching. Waiting.

For what, no one knew.

Yelena stared up, her breath catching in her throat. Bucky’s jaw was locked, unreadable. Ava barely kept her form solid, whispering that they had to leave — now. Even Walker stood silent, hand frozen halfway to his now bend shield.

They had failed the mission.

Worse — they had released something far beyond what they were meant to contain.

Valentina didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Her eyes never left the sky.

The Void hovered above them, an eclipse in motion.

And then, without warning, it vanished into the clouds, a streak of darkness slipping into the stratosphere — fast as light, and twice as cold.

Silence returned. The mission was over.

But something much worse had just begun. Covering New York in a shallow darkness, and taking everyone else with it.

Y/N’s pov

The room around her hadn’t faded — not like she hoped it would. Y/N remained frozen, her body heavy like she was sinking into the carpet of her childhood bedroom. The quiet crying of her younger self continued at the vanity, face streaked with smeared mascara and glitter that clung to her skin like bruises she didn’t know how to name.

“Please,” she whispered again, louder this time, trying to reach her past self. “Don’t cry. Please—”

She knew what came next.

SLAM.

The door burst open with a thunderous crack against the wall, rattling the frames, making both versions of her flinch. Her mother stood in the doorway — tall, beautiful, cruel in the way only someone who knew your deepest insecurities could be. She had a cigarette hanging from her red lipstick-stained mouth, purse slung carelessly over her shoulder, already halfway out the door even as she entered.

“Y/N!” she barked, eyes narrowing at the sight in front of her. “Jesus Christ, look at you. Is that what you’re wearing?”

Young Y/N snapped to attention like a soldier caught out of uniform. She stood shakily from her stool, wiping her face more frantically now, trying to erase the shame, the night, the truth.

“Mom…” Her voice broke around the word like it was glass in her throat. “Mom, I— I need help.”

She moved forward, arms outstretched, like the little girl she was under all the eyeliner and attitude. Just a child begging for her mother.

“I don’t feel good, I think something happened— I think— I’m scared—”

But her mother took a step back like she’d been slapped. “Get your hands off me.”

Y/N watched — helpless — as her mother’s eyes scanned the too-short dress, the swollen, tear-rimmed eyes, the trembling hands, and curled her lip like she’d found something rotten in the fridge.

“You look like a little whore,” she snapped, adjusting her purse strap. “You want attention? Congratulations, you look like you got it.”

The younger Y/N’s face shattered.

“No— No, I didn’t want— I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, don’t start with the dramatics,” her mother cut her off coldly, heading back toward the door. “I’m going out. Your dad’s not coming this weekend, by the way — surprise, surprise. There’s leftovers in the fridge. Make yourself useful for once and clean up that mess you call a face. I don’t want to see it when I get back.”

“Mom— Mom, please. Please just stay—” the girl sobbed, trying again to move toward her, to just touch her sleeve, to be heard—

The woman turned and shoved her daughter back, hard enough to make her stumble.

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked. “God, why couldn’t I have had a normal daughter?! Just one night without you ruining it, that’s all I ever ask!”

And then she was gone.

Just like that.

The door slammed again. The walls shook with the echo. Silence bloomed.

Young Y/N dropped to her knees and finally screamed, a raw, broken sound that twisted through the air and made the older Y/N’s stomach flip. The sound wasn’t loud — not like it should’ve been — it was muffled by time, memory, shame. But it cut like glass all the same.

Older Y/N stood frozen in the corner, her hands clutching the sonogram against her chest. Tears streamed down her face, hot and fast. Her mouth opened but no words came. She felt helpless. Useless.

She hadn’t remembered it this vividly in years. Not like this. Not the smell of her mother’s perfume, or the exact way the light hit the silver vanity tray. Not the sound of her own younger voice cracking under desperation.

She backed away, heart pounding.

“No,” she whispered, over and over. “No. No, I don’t want to be here. This isn’t real. It’s not real.”

But it was. Her younger self had collapsed on the floor now, sobbing into her knees. And there was no one to help her.

Y/N reached for the door. It didn’t open. She tried again, harder — nothing. Her fingers clawed at the knob, breath heaving now, the walls of the room beginning to bend and tilt, as though the house was a memory starting to melt.

“Let me out— please, I can’t— I can’t do this again!”

The walls whispered.

She heard her own voice — her younger self was now looking at her.

"You deserved it, didn’t you? That’s what he said. That’s what you believed."

“No—”

"You still believe it sometimes."

“Stop it!”

"If you were stronger, you’d have left sooner. If you were smarter, you’d have seen it coming. If you were worthy, he’d have stayed."

“Stop it!”

She turned and screamed at the room. She looked at the mirror on the wall, another room, without making any sense of what's the racional reasons of this happening, she jumps into falling into the room. Jordan's room.

Oh no, no,no,no, not this...this can't be...

Bob's pov

The Void had no shape.

It breathed around him — slow, cold, and endless. A black sea without water. A sky without stars. Bob floated in it, weightless and drowning all at once.

The silence pressed against his ears like pressure at the bottom of the ocean.

Then came the first room.

He didn’t walk into it. It unfolded around him — one blink and he was standing in the middle of it. A small bathroom. White tiles stained yellow. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry bees.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

Younger. Gaunt. Bruised knuckles, a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop dripping. His eyes red from crying, from the needle still swinging in the sink beside him.

The door burst open — the version of himself sitting in the memory didn’t flinch.

It was his mother.

“I can’t do this with you anymore, Robert!” she screamed. Her mascara ran. “You make everything worse.”

Bob tried to speak — to reach out — but his voice didn’t work here.

The past couldn’t hear him.

The next room swallowed the last.

Second room. A military facility. Stark. A flickering overhead light buzzed like a dying insect. Soldiers screamed in the distance — training exercises. Gunshots.

Bob was 19. Sitting in the corner of a locker room, shaking, knuckles split open from punching a wall.

"You're unstable, Reynolds. You lash out and break things. I don't want you on my team if I can't trust you."

Captain Hunt’s voice. Firm. Tired. Disgusted.

And then—

Third room. A hospital. Late night. Sterile smell. Fluorescent white.

He sat alone in a plastic chair, watching a heart monitor go flatline.

His first serious attempt. His own heartbeat crawling back into his chest with a kind of shame no one teaches you how to carry.

The nurses hadn’t asked questions. No one had called anyone.

Not one person showed up.

Fourth room. A motel.

Dim. Stained sheets. Cracked mirror. The bag of meth still sitting on the nightstand. He stared at it, then at his reflection.

His voice finally returned — not strong, but tired.

“I’m trying,” he whispered to himself. “I’m trying.”

His reflection didn’t believe him.

Then the fifth room swallowed him whole.

And this one was different.

Warm.

He looked around — disoriented, blinking.

The wallpaper was pale blue with hand-drawn spaceships and stars. A night light still glowed in the corner. A box of toys sat against the wall — old and worn but loved. There were crayon drawings taped haphazardly to the closet door. In the middle of it all was a twin-sized bed with dinosaur covers.

Bob took a shaky breath. His chest rose and fell like it hadn’t in hours.

This was his room.

His real one. From before things fell apart.

Before the shouting. Before the needle. Before the screaming void.

So he sat, down. It was quiet. Perfect for a place like the void. Peacefull.

He doesn't know how long he stayed there until Yelena came, he doesn't know how he still had the strengh to get up, to overpower the void.

It was a power that came from them. His new friends. His new..'team'?

He doesn't recollect it all, but for the first time in months, he didn't feel like he was alone. They made their way out of the room,out of this house out of the memory, and back into the storming present — where the real war still waited.

Together they went through several rooms from his and other people's memories. Fighting their traumas' into a way out.

He doesn't now when. But they ended up here.

The world around them was not the real one — they knew that much.

The walls breathed. The air crackled with an unnatural hum, and gravity shifted with moods, not science. Inside the Void’s domain, nothing obeyed logic. The Thunderbolts stood huddled, silent and alert, their eyes scanning the horizon of an endless black that shimmered like oil under a dim sky. This was the mind — or madness — of Sentry.

Of Bob.

Yelena’s fingers tightened around her weapon, though it was useless here. Ava moved like a whisper behind her, while Walker stood with hands slightly raised, reading the tension, always waiting. Even Bucky, hardened by war and grief, looked visibly unsettled.

Then something shifted.

A tear in the air — like a crack in glass — split open ahead of them. Shadows poured through the breach, not menacing this time, but familiar. Like memories. Like ghosts.

Suddenly, they weren’t in the abyss anymore.

They were in a small apartment kitchen — dim, quiet, but worn with the comfort of being lived in.

And then — voices.

Bob’s own voice, worn down with shame, cracked through the space like thunder.

“You went through my things?”

They turned toward the source.

There he was — Bob — standing just a few feet away, the projection of him caught in a moment past. And across from him, her.

Y/N.

She was standing in their small living room, trembling hands clutching a small plastic bag, holding crushed pills and powder. Her eyes were puffy from crying, voice shaking.

“I was doing laundry, Bob. It fell out of your jacket.”

Real Bob — the one standing in the shadows with the Thunderbolts — went completely still. His breath caught in his throat. This was a memory he hadn't thought about in what felt like years. Maybe he’d buried it on purpose.

“You said you stopped,” she whispered in the memory, voice small but cutting. “You told me you wanted to get clean. For us.”

“I do” Bob said. “I just— I needed it, just once more. I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, hugging herself like she was trying to keep from unraveling.

“You lied to me. And what scares me most is that I keep forgiving you because I think maybe you hate yourself enough already.”

The room spun. The Thunderbolts watched in stunned silence, not quite understanding what they were witnessing — it felt too intimate, too raw to be for them. A woman they’d never seen, spilling tears for a version of Bob they'd never known.

Ghost shifted her stance uncomfortably. Even Yelena’s brow furrowed — the name Y/N flickering in her mind now like a question. The weight in the air was different than anything they’d faced. This wasn’t a villain. This wasn’t a fight.

This was a wound.

The memory played on.

“I’m not enough, am I?” Y/N asked, voice cracking. “Not enough to make you stop. Not enough to love without condition. I’m tired, Bobby. I can't live for you, I love you, but this has to stop, please.”

He didn’t respond. He looked like he wanted to — lips parted, hands shaking — but no words came.

Everyone turned to look at the real Bob, who had fallen to his knees, eyes wide with horror, tears brimming at the edges.

“She’s real,” he whispered.

Yelena blinked, stepping forward gently. “Who is she, Bob?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared at the frozen image of Y/N like it had torn his ribs open.

“She’s... she's my girlfriend, my child's mother,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “My girl. I loved her more than anything. And I left her.”

No one spoke.

“She found out she was pregnant days before I left,” Bob added, as though confessing to a grave sin. “I never saw the bump. I never got to feel the baby kick. I don’t even know how it's going if they're healthy…”

His voice broke, and he covered his face with a trembling hand.

“I wanted to be better. I swear to God, I did. But I was afraid I’d hurt her again. That I’d ruin the only good thing I ever had. So I disappeared. Told myself it was protection. Told myself I’d come back. For her, be a good, healthy father for our baby.But it’s been… so long.”

Yelena approached quietly, crouching beside him.

“She’s alive?”

He nodded. “Valentina told me so. She's pregnant. Five months now.”

A silence fell again — but not the cold kind. This time, it was heavy with understanding. They all had blood on their hands. But this was different. This was grief. Regret. A man torn in half by his own guilt.

Ava spoke up, voice strangely soft through her modulator.

“Let's get out of here, this is not the way out come on”

Bob’s gaze lifted to the suspended image of Y/N — frozen in time, crying, still holding the drugs like they were the last piece of him she could trust. He just runs along with the others, jumping into another room.

The world shimmered again.

The corridor they’d just been standing in melted into dim velvet walls, low golden lighting, and pulsing bass vibrating faintly beneath their feet. A private lounge. Exclusive. Sleek. Quietly decadent.

Bob turned slowly, gaze sweeping over the room. It was too elegant to be one of his memories. And it didn’t feel like his. Not the way the others had. There was no anxiety prickling under his skin, no familiarity clawing at the edges of his mind.

The couches were velvet, the tables sleek marble. Laughter echoed from a corner—high-pitched, sugar-coated and sharp. A group of girls lounged around a bottle-service table, glittering dresses and tired smiles, eyes heavy with intoxication and mascara.

Then Bob saw her.

Y/N. Young.

God, she was so young.

Seventeen, maybe. Dressed in a short black dress with silver accents, legs crossed tightly at the ankle. Her hair was curled and pinned half-up like she was trying to mimic a movie star, but her eyes told another story—she looked nervous, small, out of place.

Next to her sat a man. Clean-cut. Older—definitely older. Late thirties, maybe. He wore a sharp blazer over a white shirt, no tie, just casual enough to seem approachable. He had his arm resting behind her shoulders, fingers brushing lightly against her hair. Possessive without looking it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth like polished mahogany. “Just a little. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I don’t know...” Young Y/N laughed lightly, clearly uncertain. “I’ve never really done that stuff.”

“That’s okay,” he said, smiling, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. I like you just like this.”

She blinked. Something about the way he looked at her—it was like he saw her. Like she mattered. Bob’s heart clenched painfully watching it.

“I just think you’re incredible,” Jordan continued. “The way you walk into a room like you’re not trying to impress anyone. You’ve got this... spark. It kills me.”

Y/N looked down, shy. “You really think that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, resting his hand gently on her thigh. “You’re nothing like these other girls. You’re thoughtful. Real. Not just some pretty thing. You’ve got depth, baby. And I see that. I see you.”

Bob could barely breathe.

“He’s grooming her,” Ava muttered under her breath.

Yelena glanced at her, then at Bob. “Is this her memory?”

Bob’s jaw was tight. “Yeah,” he said. His voice cracked. “It is.”

On the couch, one of the girls passed a thin line of powder to Jordan, who declined with a polite shake of his head. Instead, he passed it to Y/N. “Only if you want to,” he said gently. “No pressure. I’d never make you do anything. But I want you to feel good tonight. You deserve to feel loved.”

Y/N hesitated. The edges of her smile were starting to quiver. She stared at the powder. Then at Jordan. “You really think I’m... special?”

“I don’t waste time on girls who aren’t,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her cheek, feather-light. “You’ve got a heart bigger than anyone in this room. I just want to take care of it.”

She closed her eyes, almost swayed by it.

Bob couldn’t look away. His hands were shaking. “She thought he loved her,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “She told me... once. That for a while, she believed every word. That she was lucky to have someone love her that much.”

“She was a child,” Yelena growled.

“She didn’t know,” Bob whispered. “She didn’t know what she deserved. She thought this was it—someone older, who gave her attention. That was enough.”

Y/N ends up taking the drugs. She handed the little plate back with a quiet after taking the powder “uff, that's ahm..weird?” She said smiling at Jordan.

Jordan smiled like she’d just told him a secret. “See? That’s what I like about you. You’re strong. Classy. You didn't even make a face pretty girl.”

Then he kissed her and whispered, “That’s why I love you.”

And Y/N believed it. "And I love you too."

You could see it—the way her shoulders relaxed, the way she leaned into him slightly. Desperate for comfort. For a promise that someone in the world wanted her.

The team stood there in silence.

Bob’s eyes were glassy. He swallowed hard. “She just wanted someone to choose her. To protect her. And instead... she got him.”

Ava’s face was grim. “And then she got you.”

Bob flinched.

But Yelena shook her head gently. “You loved her. You didn’t want anything from her but to be loved back. That matters.”

Bob said nothing for a long while. He just stood there, staring at the younger version of her—wide-eyed, smiling faintly, still foolish enough to believe that this man would be different.

That he would be safe.

“God,” he muttered, voice breaking, “I hope she knows she’s more than this.”

“That wasn’t yours,” Bucky finally said, his voice low, like he was afraid of scaring something away. “That memory. It wasn’t from you.”

Bob shook his head slowly. “No. That was hers.”

Yelena’s brow furrowed. “How the hell are we seeing her memories?”

“Maybe...” Ava started, then hesitated. She glanced around at the endless dark edges of the Void as if searching for a crack. “Maybe because she’s here.”

The weight of her words hit like a bomb.

Bob turned to her sharply. “What?”

“If the Void is showing her memories,” she said, “then it’s not just pulling from you anymore. It’s pulling from someone else too. That only happens when someone’s inside.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “You think the Void got her?”

“I don’t think,” Ava said. “I know.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “So she’s trapped in this thing.”

Bob’s breath caught in his throat. The walls seemed to close in around him as the meaning sunk in—Y/N, his Y/N, alone somewhere in this abyss, reliving the worst parts of her life, again and again, without even knowing why.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped. “No... no, no—she can’t be here. She can’t be.”

“She is,” Ava said softly. “We’ve all been stuck in this thing long enough to know how it works. It latches onto trauma. It feeds on it. Memories, shame, fear—it twists it all into a prison.”

“But she’s not like us,” Bob said, his voice cracking. “She didn’t sign up for this. She didn’t even do anything.”

“That doesn’t matter to the Void,” Bucky said grimly. “It doesn’t care who you are. If it senses pain, if it senses broken pieces... it pulls you in.”

Bob’s knees buckled slightly, and he sank to a low stool at the edge of the room, head in his hands.

“She’s pregnant,” he whispered. “She’s alone. She’s scared. And now she’s trapped in this fucking nightmare.”

Yelena knelt in front of him. “Then we find her. Before this place tears her apart.”

“How?” he asked, voice hoarse. “How the hell do we find her in all this?”

Ava stepped forward. “We follow the memories. The further in we go, the more pieces we see. If she’s really here, then the Void is using her too. Pulling her pain to the surface. If we find the source—if we find the most vivid parts—we find her.”

Bucky nodded. “And we pull her out.”

“But she doesn’t even know what this is,” Bob said, lifting his head. His eyes were red, desperate. “She won’t understand. She’ll think it’s real. She’ll feel it all like it’s happening again.”

“She’s strong,” Yelena said. “We’ve seen that.”

Bob shook his head. “Not like this. Not this kind of pain. She spent her whole life thinking she wasn’t worth loving, and now she’s in a place that’s built to prove her right.”

He clenched his fists, jaw tightening. “She’s not just some damsel in distress. She’s better than me. Smarter. Braver. But I left her. I abandoned her when she needed me most, and now she’s paying the price for my broken mind.”

Bucky took a step closer, his voice steady. “Then don’t waste time wallowing in guilt. Use it. Channel it. Because if we don’t get to her soon, this place will bury her alive in her own pain.”

Bob stood slowly, the weight of resolve settling over him like armor. “Then we go deeper. Into the worst of it.”

He turned to Ava. “You said it feeds on trauma. So we find the worst of her memories. The ones it would never let go of. She has to be somewhere here."

Y/N's pov

The air was thick. Too warm. Still.

Y/N stood barefoot on the cold hardwood floor of his penthouse apartment—Jordan’s.

The bedroom was dim, the curtains drawn. The city lights barely peeked through the thin cracks. She heard rustling behind her. Her breath caught.

There—on the bed—her younger self, stirring under crumpled sheets, the silk blanket clinging to damp, bare skin.

The girl woke slowly, confusion in her eyes before she blinked into the dark. She moved, groggily at first… then winced. Her body recoiled, the pain sharp and unignorable. Her fingers clutched the sheet closer to her chest. She looked down.

Y/N—the older one—stood frozen. Watching. Remembering.

“No, no, no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. Her hands trembled at her sides. “Please don’t do this. Don’t make me see this again.”

But the Void was cruel. It always had been.

Young Y/N stood slowly, wobbling on weak legs. The sheet wrapped around her like a lifeline, like it could protect her from what her mind already knew but refused to say out loud.

She stepped into the hallway, bare feet silent, breath uneven. She turned toward the kitchen.

And there he was.

Jordan.

Dressed casually—sweatpants, t-shirt—like he hadn’t just stolen something sacred. He was humming. Cheerful. Making coffee. His hair was damp like he’d just showered. Like it was just another morning.

The older Y/N followed behind, nearly tripping over her own breath, like she could somehow get in front of this. Stop it.

Jordan turned at the sound of movement, his smile stretching effortlessly across his smug, handsome face.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his voice chipper, as if they were a normal couple waking up after a beautiful night. “You were out cold last night. Want some breakfast? I make a killer omelet.”

The younger Y/N stopped in her tracks. Her lips parted, her face pale, horrified. “What... what did you do to me?” Her voice was so quiet at first, but it shook.

Jordan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You...” She clutched the sheet tighter, eyes blinking rapidly, on the verge of spiraling. “You gave me something. I didn’t want to sleep with you. I—I said no. I remember saying no. And then—then nothing.”

The smile on Jordan’s face flickered. Then vanished.

He stepped forward, casual in that way predators often are. “Woah, woah. Babe. Don’t be like that. You were into it. Trust me—you wanted it. I just gave you a little something to relax, that’s all. You were stressed out.”

“I didn’t want to relax,” she said, her voice cracking. “I said no. You said we’d just hang out. I thought—” Her voice broke. “I thought you loved me.”

Jordan’s face changed entirely. The warmth drained out of his expression, replaced with cold irritation.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” he said, voice darkening. “After everything I’ve done for you? I brought you into my home, gave you everything, and now you’re acting like some fucking victim?”

Older Y/N stepped forward, voice raised. “Stop it. Please. Stop it!”

Young Y/N was sobbing now, inching backward. “You drugged me, Jordan. You used me.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched.

“You better watch how you talk to me.”

And then—he moved.

It happened so fast.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She yelped, trying to pull away, but he yanked her forward and slammed her to the ground. The sheet slipped off her shoulder. She screamed, trying to crawl back, but he was already on top of her.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he spat. “I loved you. I treated you like a goddamn queen.”

“You're hurting me!” she screamed.

“You don’t even know what the real world is like,” he hissed. “You’re just a sad little girl who needs daddy figures to fix you. Well guess what? No one else wanted you. You were mine.”

His hand wrapped around her throat.

“STOP IT!” older Y/N screamed, throwing herself at him. She crashed into him—but passed right through. She hit the floor hard, helpless. Her hands clawed the ground. “GET OFF HER!”

But he didn’t even notice. Because this wasn’t real. Not to him. But to her—it was everything.

Younger Y/N thrashed beneath him, choking, sobbing. “Please... Jordan, please...”

He leaned in close, voice low. “You don’t get to say no now.” And just like that, he let her go. He picked up his coffe mug and went to the sofa, turning on the news. "When you're ready to apologize, come here, okay sweetheart? You were really cruel to me, I didn't appreciate that."

Older Y/N crawled to her younger self who was sobbing, tears blinding her vision. She pressed her palms to the memory’s shoulders, trying to hold her, trying to shield her, desperate to end this.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know what love was supposed to look like.”

Bob was the first one to step inside.

Then they saw her.

Y/N.

Curled on the floor in the kitchen, holding someone tight—herself. A younger version of her, wrapped in a silk sheet, face buried in her own shoulder, both of them trembling, as if clutching one another was the only thing keeping them from falling apart completely.

Her hair was a mess. Her arms covered in scratches from trying to claw her way out of this hell. Her face streaked with tears and smeared makeup. But even broken, she looked like something Bob had forgotten how to breathe around.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Not yet.

It was Walker who whispered, “That’s her... That’s Y/N.”

But it was Yelena who understood first. “She’s not just a memory.”

“No,” Ava murmured. “She’s here. Trapped like we are.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed them yet. She was holding her younger self so tightly, whispering into her hair, soothing words and broken apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I should’ve seen it. I should’ve never loved him. I should’ve known this would happen. I just wanted to be seen. Just once. Just wanted to be enough for someone. I didn’t know it would hurt like this... I didn’t know I was gonna hate myself this much.”

Bob stepped forward. Slowly. Carefully. “Y/N.”

Her head didn’t move. She didn’t hear him. Or maybe she was too deep in the memory to want to.

He tried again, his voice cracking, tears already building in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s me.”

At that, her shoulders tensed.

Still holding the younger version of herself, she slowly turned her head.

She saw him.

And everything stopped.

She blinked—once, twice, trying to clear her eyes. But he didn’t vanish. He stayed. Standing there, in his suit, his hair wild and eyes filled with tears, chest heaving like he hadn’t taken a full breath since he last saw her.

Behind him stood strangers—faces she didn’t recognize. A blonde girl with cold, sharp eyes. A man with a metal arm. A ghost of a woman in black. But she didn’t care.

Her eyes locked on Bob.

Her Bob.

But she didn’t smile.

She flinched.

“No...” Her voice came out hoarse. “No. Not like this.”

Bob’s face fell. “Y/N, it’s really me.”

“No, no, you don’t get to do that,” she whispered, hugging her younger self tighter, closing her eyes like she could shut him out. “Not here. Not now. You’re not real. This place is evil, it shows me things just to break me. I’m done falling for that. I won’t let it take you, too.”

“It’s me,” he repeated, stepping closer. “I swear to you. I’m not an illusion. I found you—I found you.”

She shook her head violently. “No! You left me. You left before I even showed, before I even started to show! I waited and I waited and I screamed into a pillow every night, telling myself you’d come back—but you didn’t. And now I’m here, trapped in hell, and it’s using your face to punish me!”

Her breathing picked up. She stood up.

She stepped toward him, shaking.

“Don’t you dare look like him,” she said, her voice breaking. “Don’t you dare sound like him. Don’t pretend you care—don’t pretend you know what I’ve been through.”

Bob tried to reach out but she slapped his hand away.

She started hitting him. Soft at first—then harder. Fists against his chest, weak and desperate.

“You’re not him. You’re not him. You’re not my Bobby. He’s gone. He left me. He left me with a baby and no one to love me. He promised he'd never go and he fucking went!”

“I know,” he whispered, not even defending himself. “I know I did. I know I failed you.”

She hit him again and again until she couldn’t stand anymore.

Her knees gave out and she collapsed.

Bob caught her before she hit the floor. Held her like he had the first night she let him into her apartment, sobbing into his shirt, clutching him like he might disappear if she blinked.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I just wanted you to be real. I needed it to be you. I needed it to matter.”

“It does,” he choked out. “You matter. More than anything. And I swear to you, this isn’t a trick. I’m here. And I’m not leaving again. I swear to God, I’m not leaving again.”

She trembled in his arms, crying so hard her body shook. Her arms wrapped around his neck, afraid to believe it.

But for the first time in months, she let herself hope.

Because even in the heart of the Void—he came back for her.

It was heavy, fragile—like glass balancing on a thread. No one dared speak at first. Even Yelena, who had a dozen biting questions on the tip of her tongue, kept quiet. The sound of Y/N’s quiet sobs was all that filled the space, broken occasionally by Bob whispering apologies into her hair.

Walker finally stepped forward, his hands on his hips. “Okay, someone tell me how the hell we’re getting out of here now that we’ve got her.”

“We’re still in the Void,” Ava murmured, her voice echoing faintly in the strange, warped dimensions of the room. “Just because we found her doesn’t mean the exit’s magically going to open. We need a way to break it.”

Y/N blinked, still dazed, still shaking. She looked up at Bob with red-rimmed eyes. “How are you here?” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Is this real? I don’t understand. You left. You weren’t there. And now you are and everyone keeps saying Void and team and... what is happening, Bobby?”

Bob looked at her like he didn’t know how to start. “I... I will explain everything my love I promise you, it's a very very long story.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “How do I know this isn’t just another trick? How do I know you’re not just... another part of this nightmare?”

Bob grabbed her hand gently and pressed it to his chest. “Because you’re here, and I feel it. I feel you. And I don’t know how this place works, but I think the Void... it’s connected to all the pain we carry. All the things we can’t let go of. That’s how it traps us. With the worst parts of ourselves.”

Yelena crouched nearby, eyes on Y/N. “When the Void manifests a memory, it means the person’s in here. Alive. Which means we can all get out, if we stay together.”

Y/N glanced between them—these strangers standing like soldiers in her deepest trauma. “Who are you people?”

Bob chuckled softly through his tears. “They’re... complicated. But they’re helping me. Helping us. I promise.”

Before anyone could say more, a noise cut through the quiet—a voice.

"You look ugly when you cry, little one."

Everyone turned.

Jordan.

Still present, still part of the memory, casually walking across the kitchen to put his coffee mug in the sink. He hadn’t seen them—not really. He was part of the memory loop, the trauma replaying on a cruel cycle. But the voice, the condescension, the way it dripped like acid through the air—

Bob’s body moved before his brain could catch up.

He stormed across the room in two long strides and drove his fist into Jordan’s face so hard the man was lifted off his feet and crashed into the counter, crumpling like wet paper.

The room went silent again.

No one moved.

Not even younger Y/N, who had been curled on the floor, frozen in horror. Her form flickered slightly now, destabilizing. The memory unraveling at last.

Bob stood over Jordan’s unconscious form, fists still clenched, breath ragged. Then he looked back at Y/N—his Y/N—and gave her a sad smile. “You’ve always been beautiful,” he said gently. “And if our baby’s a girl... I hope she looks just like you.”

Y/N looked down, lips trembling. Her fingers reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the crumpled sonogram. She stared at it for a long moment, then looked back at him, her voice barely more than a breath.

“It’s a boy, Bobby... I just found out. Before everything... before this.”

Bob’s eyes widened, filling with tears all over again. “A boy...?”

She nodded, swallowing hard.

He stepped to her slowly, arms open, as if afraid she’d disappear again. She let him wrap his arms around her, and they clung to each other like survivors in the wreckage.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Y/N closed her eyes and clutched the sonogram between them, resting her forehead against his chest. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she admitted. “I don’t know where I am.”

Bob looked at her, then the team. “We’re getting out. All of us. Together.”

He reached down and gently helped her to her feet.

But before anyone could move, the walls of the apartment began to blur. The shadows of the kitchen twisted like liquid. The floor rumbled.

“It’s shifting again,” Ava warned, backing toward the group.

The room peeled apart like old wallpaper, revealing something new behind it—white fluorescent lights, steel walls, cold tiled floors.

Yelena’s eyes went wide. “This... this is the lab.”

“O.X.E.,” Bucky confirmed, stepping forward cautiously. “Where they were creating you.”

Bob held Y/N close as she looked around, now standing in the middle of a sterile hallway. Her head spun from the sudden shift, her mind reeling.

“I was here,” Bob murmured. “This is where they made me a weapon.”

Y/N clung to his arm, "Made you? What?", heart pounding. “Why did it bring us here now?”

And Walker, grim as ever, finally answered.

“Because it wants us to remember how the hell this all began.”

The room had grown impossibly still. Shadows danced across the cracked floor as the broken lights flickered overhead. By the lab window, seated a figure—tall, cloaked in flickering tendrils of smoke and malice. The Void.

He stood motionless, his gaze fixed beyond the glass as if watching something only he could see. Two figures, twisted and half-consumed by darkness, slumped beneath the window—doctors perhaps, or memories of victims long lost. Their stillness was chilling.

Then he turned.

Darkness poured from him like a second skin, his golden eyes burning through the room like embers in the night.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth, haunting, laced with venomous sweetness. “I finally found you.”

Y/N clutched Bob’s arm tightly, stepping back instinctively as her eyes searched the figure in front of her. The voice. That voice. It was him—but it wasn’t.

“What's happening?” she whispered, clutching her belly protectively. “Who are you?”

The Void took a step forward, the floor creaking with his weight. He tilted his head with an expression almost tender. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he said gently. “Alone. Carrying life inside of you. And for what? Struggling to stay afloat, with no one to catch you when you fall?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not alone anymore.”

“But you are” he pressed, taking another step. “You always have been. Your mother. Your father. That man who used you like a plaything. And where is your love now? The one who left you when you needed him most?”

Bob flinched beside her.

“Come to me,” the Void whispered, his voice like velvet, spreading through the room like smoke. “I will make you happy. I will give you peace. I will give your son a life no one else can. No pain. No fear.”

The room shifted. Metal groaned. Then everything exploded at once—shards of glass, twisted steel, broken furniture—all lifted violently by an unseen force and slammed the team against the walls like rag dolls. Bob was thrown back, shielding himself from the debris.

Y/N staggered forward.

“Y/N! NO!” Bob screamed, reaching out.

But she couldn’t hear him—not through the drumming in her ears, not through the pull in her chest. Something was calling her. And in her heart… a terrible ache. A fear. What if this was the only way?

She walked forward in a daze, her hand outstretched.

“Come to me,” the Void whispered, his voice shaking the air like thunder. “You’re mine. You’ve always been meant to be mine.”

Just as her fingertips neared the swirling darkness of his hand, Bobby’s grip caught her wrist and yanked her back. She stumbled into his arms as the Void snarled.

“She’s not yours!” Bob shouted, his voice hoarse with fury.

The Void’s face twisted into a smile. “And who are you to claim her? A failure? The man who left her alone in a world that chews her up? You are and will always be alone in this world. That's because no one cares about you. You don’t matter.”

Bob’s face went pale. Then rage exploded from his chest like a scream from his soul. He lunged forward and struck the Void with a crushing punch. Then another. And another.

“You don’t get to trick her!” Bob roared, his knuckles bleeding, the darkness seeping up his arms like ink.

“You don’t get to speak her name! You don't to lore her to you!”

But the Void didn’t fight back. He smiled, letting Bob hit him again and again, until the shadow began to wrap tighter around Bob’s body, crawling up his spine, whispering poison into his ears.

“Stop!” Y/N screamed, running to him. “Bobby, stop!”

Yelena was at her side in seconds. “This is what he wants, Bob! He’s feeding on you!”

“Bobby, look at me!” Y/N cried, grabbing his hand, tears pouring down her face. “Bobby—please! You have to stop, I need you to stop!”

Walker came running holding onto them, and so did Ava and Bucky. A reminder of how loneliness was no longer invinted.

His eyes flickered toward her. The rage wavered.

“Please,” she whispered. “Mr. Cooper left the crib unfinished. We need to go home. We need to finish it. Okay?”

His breath caught. His fists fell limp.

He looked at her—really looked—and it was like coming back to the surface after nearly drowning.

“You…” he choked. “You are… everything.”

There was a burst of light. A rush of wind. And then—

They were back.

The pavement beneath them was solid. Cold. Familiar. People around them were screaming, running, but the team… they were just there. Alive. In one piece.

Yelena coughed and looked up, confused. “What the hell just happened?Wait...Where's Y/N?”

Bob blinked slowly, his vision returning. “Thanks guys… what happened by the way?” He said smiling. The it hit him. "Yelena. How do you know that name?"

657 notes · View notes

bluemerakis · 4 months ago

Text

─────── ❝ sugar high ❞ ⋆˙ 𖦹 ˚.⋆

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

pairing ୨୧ munch .ᐟ beau arlen x fem .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ cussing, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, pet names

synopsis ─ beau arlen is a take the scenic route munch. that’s all, folks. that’s plenty.

word count ~ 2k

based on this ask

──────────────────────

“You like that a lot, don’tcha?” Beau chuckles gently, and the sound drips from his glistening lips like a stray trail of honey—tantalisingly sweet and so, so sparse throughout his focused fondling of you. He surveys you over the arch of your stomach, your lower back long since lifted from the mattress in search of his wet warmth.

“Mhm,” you breathe out—both spent and disoriented by the haze of pleasure Beau’s tongue seems to effortlessly elicit. But you’re overcome with a sudden groan of protest, head lifting from your pillow’s support with utmost difficulty to peer at him accusingly. “Why’d you stop?” You ask indignantly, but the lack of energy behind those words makes it come off as more of a pathetic whine.

He’s been at it for at least half an hour, now, tongue entangling with your folds like a shameless exploration, stumbling upon your pot of fine gold time and time again—only to drop it into a scattered, disappointing mess of nothing. A relentless tease that has your every nerve ignited at the ends and hot with the plea to quell its prolonged misery.

The sheriff beams from his place between your thighs, the strong arms he’d exploited to trap your lower half against the bed shifting to pry your legs even further apart. His grip is a practiced type of firm—refined by all the years he’s spent immobilising fugitives—yet he’s always overly conscious of the way his fingers root themselves within your tender flesh.

“I ain’t stopped nothin’—been goin’ at it for quite some time, actually,” he pokes smugly, but he’s perfectly aware of his selfish mischief. “It’s called havin’ fun, darlin’. Y’know, savourin’ what’s good for the soul,” he adds with a glint to his eyes that’s so boyishly mischievous, you can’t help but flick your eyes in response.

“I don’t think I can do this much longer,” you complain, your lower half squirming with the urge to pinch your thighs together, but Beau’s got a passive, vice-like grip on them that doesn’t allow you to go anywhere without his leniency. And he’s not lenient—not now, at least.

“Naw, come on,” he drawls as his hands gently flatten your thighs back into a helpless sprawl, where he fortifies their position with an encouraging squeeze. “I think you’re pretty darn capable of pullin’ through this. It’s why you’re my best gal. My sweet gal,” he adds with a purposeful wink, tongue poking through to glide along his lips like he’s savouring the very taste of you that lingers.

Your head shakes lightly—you’re at your wits end with him. “You’re plain, old mean,” you huff out, but the pout instantly softens as you feel as Beau’s arm uncurl from your thigh to glide his fingers over the sensitive inner. The teasing contact jettisons your pique from the ledge of care down into the deep, deep depths of arousal, where your core is trapped in constant exploitation.

Beau’s got you right where he wants you—hot, bothered, numb. That is, numb until he makes you feel all sorts of things.

Shivers hare up your spine as you feel his fingers trail a path all the way down to your slicked entrance, where they curl inside with a driven destination. “Am I, now?” He tests softly—the words accentuated like he’s slipped them through the crack of a grin. “Mean, that is?” He clarifies with a sparse chuckle to further ruffle the edges of his nerve, and then he drives the point home with a gentle pump into the tunnel of your warmth.

A broken gasp purses your lips as the girth of his manhandling stretches out your walls—all worked up and tense with the empty promise of fulfilment. Your head burrows back into the pillow, where it practically swallows you whole in the midst of your fragile collapse.

“Fucking hell!” You gasp into the air, eyes screwing shut as you surf the sensation of your body letting loose—a desperate scramble to accommodate his intrusion. “Don’t stop, Beau—just like that,” you hiss thickly.

Beau’s throat echoes with a throaty hum, like he’s savouring the way you melt onto his hand—so betraying of the aggrieved words that’d jumped from the ledge of your lips only seconds ago. “Just like that?” He echoes sweetly, fingers curling in a motion similar to the last, but with a new desire to delve deeper.

“Just like that,” you reaffirm in a slight whimper, lip drawn into a passionate bite as the sheriff eagerly obeys your pleas. With every thrust, he plunges deeper than he’d been before, like he’s got some silent record to beat. “And don’t stop this time—please.”

“Nah, I won’t, darlin’,” Beau hums comfortingly, and the pace he maintains drives a hard bargain. “And to think you had half the nerve to call me mean,” he teases lightly, the singular hand he’d left behind to safeguard your thigh rubbing sensual circles along the sensitive skin. “Me? Mean? When I’m takin’ such good care of my sweet girl? If it were true—and it ain’t—I’d have me locked up on the account o’ neglect.”

Your eyes don’t crack open once as he rambles on, too afraid to snuff out the focus you’ve worked to nurture into something akin to your high. “Just stop talking,” you scoff with the little air you’ve still got loitering within your spent lungs, a weak smile beaming through.

“Why, yes, ma’am,” he chuckles lightly. There’s no offence lingering in his tone—and you know it’s because he’s well aware of his hand in tonight’s foul play. The overstimulation is far too profuse from time to time, but you tend to hang in there on the knowledge that he’s not doing it to be mean. He merely enjoys indulging in the prolonged haven of your scent, sounds and slick. Enjoys you.

He’s obsessed with you.

“Still feelin’ dandy as a lion?” He pipes up after a string of thrusts, the fingers burrowed into your entrance continuing to plunge deeper and deeper at a pace so steady that it tugs at the last string of your sanity. And the knot that’s been building in your core threatens to unravel when his thumb daringly reaches up to flick over your sensitive clit. “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he coos when you don’t offer him the sought out input.

“Beau,” you protest helplessly, eyes burning teary behind the shield of your lids. Your fingers curl into the sheets as you grapple with his ministrations, your clit still trilling with the unexpected caress. “I think I’m gonna come—I can’t hold it back anymore.”

“Sure ya can, sweetheart,” he argues softly, temporarily halting his thrusts within you to lower his head to your mound. Your core flutters with the hope to feel his lips envelop your core with a welcoming heat that makes you forget your own, but you’re only graced with the chafe of his beard against your inner thigh, where he places a chaste kiss that lingers for a long second that feels taunting.

“I can’t.”

“Just hold on a little longer for me, alright? I know ya can do it. Just wanna taste you one last time before you let it rain down on me,” he drawls against you, the sound husky and distracted, like he’s entirely beguiled by the glistening view of you. And then his bearded jaw juts into your folds, where his lips engulf your swollen clit. Then, his tongue does a sweep of the area to take the sensitive organ under a wave so brutal, it has you gasping for air.

“Oh, god—yes!” You answer hopelessly. Unsolicited. Your thighs draw rigid with the combined stimulation of him—the resumed pump of his fingers, the tango of his tongue against your spent clit, and the hot chafe of his beard that feels determined to rub you raw. It’s all incredibly overwhelming in all the right ways. “I’m gonna come,” you mewl helplessly.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he coos proudly—the words slurred by the way his lips meld with yours. “Doin’ so good f’me. You’re a damn trooper—and you’re showin’ me up, that’s for sure. A girl like you? She’s got all it takes to see shit through. All the way down to the end o’ the line, baby’.” The deep rumble of his voice is a weapon of its own, adding to the unrelenting seize on your senses.

His pumps within you grow more vigorous and greedy with each passing second, reaching depths you didn’t think was possible—but your body welcomes it. And simultaneously braces against it, like it dreads the overwhelming finale it’s bound to present.

“Beau, that feels so good. You feel so good,” you slur weakly, your thighs tensing with the growing approach of your high. And this time, Beau grants you the grace of letting them bracket his head—like he’s made himself a willing, appreciative prisoner within your personal keep.

The only occasion where the sheriff welcomes his own detainment.

The arm he’s wrapped around your thighs ease up an inch as he imbues all focus into nurturing your finish. “Hm—ain’t ya just the sweetest?” He murmurs absentmindedly—appreciatively, and the words sound as winded as you feel. “I ain’t gonna stop this time, darlin’, so go ahead ‘nd let go f’me. Let me taste you—all o’ you,” he urges before he’s burrowed himself back into you with a rhythm of his jaw that’s entirely unforgiving.

And he doesn’t stop until you’ve painted him with the sloppy medium he’s been seeking out all evening.

You let out a broken gasp as your lower half shudders with the built up release, and Beau only adds to the grand finale as his throat rumbles against you with a low noise of euphoria—which strikes the heart of your sensitive clit. He laps at your glistening folds one last time—like it’s the last, guilty lick of the plate after dessert, before the warmth of his tongue finally forsakes you.

“Atta girl,” Beau praises breathlessly, the hand buried within your fluttering walls slowly pulling free of its suction. His other hand finally releases your thigh, the fabric of his clothes rustling as he shifts from the position he’d become solidified within. His palms return to your body in a gentle cupping of your thighs before he trails them up the length of your stomach. “Now, I dunno ‘bout you, but I could do this every night,” he chuckles softly once he’s brought himself up to hover over you, elbows propping him up at either of your shoulders.

You lift your head from your pillow with a frailty that threatens to topple you back into the plumy comfort, but your eyes catch on Beau’s face, and the sight of him is enough to keep you tethered in the air. The entirety of his jaw is slathered with your arousal, the fine hairs of his beard glistening like a proud display—almost as bright as the toothy grin nestled between his parted lips. His hair has scattered across his forehead in unruly strands, giving him a rugged look that only adds to his Texan charm.

He stares back at you with a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s fully aware of the state of himself. And he’s proud of it.

Proud of you for deconstructing him this way.

After a gentle string of pants, you finally heave a breath that allows you to speak. “I couldn’t do this every night,” you laugh hoarsely, your thighs pressing together like the mere thought of it chides you. “I might just pass away.”

Beau’s lips press into a playful pout, his brows furrowing with a look of disagreement. “On the contrary,” he says matter-of-a-factly, one hand coming up to wipe the sweat from your forehead before he settles for a gentle hold on your jaw. “If anythin’, you’ll be the death of me. You’re my sweet girl. And I’ll be damned if I was a diabetic ‘cause I’d just ‘bout drop dead gettin’ all sugar-highed on the taste o’ you.”

You giggle at that, your head shaking in light appreciation of his absurdity. “You’re something else entirely, Beau Arlen,” you murmur through a loving grin.

“And don’t I know it,” he laughs, hand gently pinching your jaw before he lowers himself to your lips, where he hovers just shy of your touch. “Just wait ‘til ya get a taste o’ you—then you’ll understand where I’m comin’ from,” he husks with a lazy grin before finally pressing his lips to yours.

And he’s right—you do taste sweet.

──────────────────────

a/n ─ beau does not stfu during sex sorry 🤷‍♀️ bro is a yapper at heart but it’s ok bc he doesn’t slack ❗️❗️❗️initially this piece was gonna be a combination of drabbles with munch dean, beau & sb but bc dean & sb’s part isn’t done yet and i wanted to get something out, have this!! i told myself i was gonna finish the other two boys’ tonight and release them all together but… i’ve been working on something else instead 👀

thank you for reading! likes & comments are appreciated—but reblogs go a much longer way, so please support your writers with it! <3

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @dulcescorderitas @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @daylighted @figthoughts @deansbbyx @honeyryewhiskey @beausling @florchids @jasvtsc @rositaslabyrinth @nperoconelcositoarriba @angelicjackles @youdontknowe @misatxox @alidiggory92 @idk-123-0 @mahi-wayy @tuxedoe @cas-only-angel @cassiecourtemanche @abox-of-rocks @viluren @lanasgirlfr @idontwannabehere7 @lunaleah @beelzebzb @ilovedeanwinchester4

want to become part of the taglist for any future beau arlen works?

other works ─ masterlist

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