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headoverhiddles · 6 years ago

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Assist Me - Dr. King Schultz x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You and King had been tiptoeing around each other for months after you began working for the man in the small town he arrived in with Django. A touch here, a look there, but nothing seemed to ever come of the small advances...

Notes: Eee King’s back! This is short, but this was a dream I had a while back. The dream actually ended very sadly lol but this is just happy and sexy! Yay!

Part II

You had started working for King a little under a year ago. He's a nice gentleman, having arrived from Germany, then Tennessee he had said, where he practiced dentistry before. Here in Daughtry, he had been interested in continuing his practice.

He had arrived with another man named Django Freeman, a former slave from around these parts. The man you work for is mysterious, never really speaking much about his past, but you suppose he’s got a reason for that. Sometimes he shows up for work a little late and dirtied, and you get curious... but it's not your job to question him.

---

"Morning, doctor," you say, setting a bottle of numbing alcohol on a high shelf.

"(y/n)," King greets, the bell tinkling above the door as he comes in and takes off his hat, "And how are you today, Fraulein?"

"Fine, thank you," you accept his offered hand as you step down, and he smiles at you, tucking his silver blonde hair behind his ears. He’s captivated for a moment, unable to look away, then catches himself.

"Well. Long work day ahead of us is it?"

You look down at your little journal you keep on the wooden desk by your quill, smirking slightly at how red his ears just got.

"Johnny Baskers is coming in this morning for a toothache. Burt Castie got two teeth knocked out in a bar fight last night and needs a pull on a third one. It's loose."

"Wonderful," he rubs his hands together, sarcasm evident. "Have you ever thought about what the elimination of stupidity would do for people's health?"

You smirk as you gather some more bottles. "All the time, doc."

He watches you walk away as you go, and bites his lip. He's had a thing for you for a while, but you must never know. It's inappropriate. You're half his age, maybe even younger, and would be more suited to one of the town's eligible bachelors who would offer you a life of more than skipping towns and bounty hunting.

He steals another glance your way. You're smart, but you still haven't figured out his double life here with young Django-- not as far as he knew, at least. Nobody had, which was a relief, since if anyone found out, it would be time to pack up and leave for the next southern town. Emancipation sympathizers weren’t welcome in these parts, and that was putting it lightly.

As for eligible bachelors, however... you constantly expressed your distaste with all the juvenile men around. You talked of settling down with a more seasoned man who knew how to handle a woman. Perhaps...

King forces the thought away, and focuses on cleaning his pliers. He could always take care of himself if it got to be too much.

---

The appointments that day didn't make things any easier for King. You keep bending over, stretching, reaching, and it's getting him more than a tad bit flustered.

“--Was just swingin’ at me like a mad buffalo!” Burt howled in the dentist chair. You raise an eyebrow, pouring out some whiskey for him to down.

“Have you ever seen a buffalo, Castie?”

“Well... no, but-- doesn’t matter! He was a mad buffalo, and I got my teeth knocked in, damn it all to hell!”

“Well,” King smiles, coming over, “You will be out one more problem once I pull this one for you.”

“You’sa gonna yank my other tooth too?!” he blurts. King stares at him in deadpan.

“As your health professional and amiable acquaintance, I sincerely do not recommend you walking around for the rest of your natural born life with your second front canine hanging by a string of flesh.” Burt stares, stunned, and King gives another one of those impish smiles. “May I proceed?”

He just nods, and you stifle a laugh.

As King is pulling it, Burt kicks and screams, and knocks the bottle of whiskey off the table. You bend over to retrieve it, hoping for your sake King is watching you, and for Burt’s sake, he’s not.

The former is true.

“(y/n),” he breathes, watching your skirts ride up. You don’t hear him, and he suddenly turns back to the bloody mouth he’s working on.

“There,” he says, “Good as new.” The man gives a pained grin, a huge gap in the top middle. You nod.

“You look great.”

“I do?”

“Magnificent,” King confirms, “Eh, good day.”

---

By the end of the day full of you bending over, accidentally exposing your breasts to him without noticing, and working incredibly close to you, the bounty hunter is hot under the collar.

The sun goes down outside, and you watch the good Christian townspeople head home, and the ne’erdowells start to accumulate around the saloons. Most of them headed over to the place to be on the corner, which was run by a sleazy, racist bald man named Hetter. King didn’t like Hetter much, as you could tell whenever he 'forgot’ to numb his gums a little. You don’t blame him-- you’re sure Django, King’s younger friend, hadn’t received the warmest of welcomes from the man.

“Ah. What a day,” King smiles, resting against the wooden counter top. He tries not to look at you, because he’s been semi-hard all day and he really doesn’t need you noticing.

"I'm going to stay for a bit," you tell him, “If that’s alright. Burt made a damn mess of things, I’ve gotta clean up.”

King hesitates. He usually tells Django to meet him here after his work to discuss plans of which plantation they would hit early the next morning.

“Do not worry about it, mein Fraulein, I will take care of it tomorrow.”

“It’s no trouble, really!”

King concedes, realizing he can’t get out of this situation any other way. "Of course. Take all the time you need." He tries to shut his mouth. He almost succeeds, but-- "I'll also be staying a little late."

"Good," you wink, "You can help me put the tools away, doc."

You start to do so, cringing at the bloody tooth left behind by Castie. King comes up behind you, passing you a couple of dental instruments. You look so good, and he's flushed, he can’t stop staring at you, god-- what is the matter? King usually had perfect control over things like this. It’s like you had a spell on him.

“Something the matter?” you ask. He looks a little dizzy.

"(y/n)," he murmurs, and you look down at how flustered he looks. You bite your lip, getting down, and raise your eyebrows.

"Something wrong?"

One piece of errant hair has fallen into your face, and your lips are slightly parted. King can’t dispel the thought of dirtying them up, and his fists clench at his sides. He tries to think of something to say. He can only kiss you.

“Mmm,” you let out a startled moan, and he draws back, mustache twitching.

“I apologize. I don’t know what came over--”

In the span of 3 seconds, you’ve cleared the table of bottles with a crash, and you urge him to lay you down on top of it, pinning you. You let out a needy moan, and King reaches up, hooking his fingers in your underclothes carefully.

"Is this what you want, darling girl?" he rasps, and you nod feverishly.

“I’ve wanted you since the day you rode into town.” You lean up to his ear, breath hot against his face. “I wanted to ride you like you were riding Fritz.”

He swears softly, and unbuckles himself. He holds your head up as he slides in, moaning softly at the feeling of you around him.

"I've been wet all day for you, doc," you groan, "Fuck, daddy... need you."

The name shocks him. "(y/n)..."

"It means something else," you assure, grabbing onto his arms and laughing, "Please. Daddy."

Hearing the unorthodox name again ignites something inside of King, and he goes a little bit harder, making you tilt your head back and cry out for him even louder. The bounty hunter doesn’t care one bit at the moment if the entire town of Daughtry could hear (if they took a minute to stop drinking and listen)... he'd been wanting this since the day you slipped your hand into his and introduced yourself.

"Please, please, please," you continue to chant, until King groans, burying his face in your hair as you come and clench hard around his cock.

"Oh, my dear, my dear," he whispers, "I-I’m afraid I’m close.”

You nod, and grind down against him. He pulls out just in time, coming into his fist. You looks down at him on the table through a mess of hair and swollen lips, and he sinks to his knees, parting your legs around him. He delves between them, and one, two, three licks and a long sucking motion is all it takes for you to finish.

You two look at each other for a good long time, until King averts his eyes, putting his spectacles on.

"You had better hurry home, (y/n)."

Your face falls a little, but you nod, getting off the table and gathering your things. Perhaps you’re just a means to an end, as usual. Maybe he didn’t mean to do that-- men have urges, same as women, maybe you were just... there.

You gather your skirts, and pulls them down, grabbing your things and heading out. As you open the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Wait," King says, "I forgot something.” You turn, and he kisses you softly. His hands smooth out down your shoulders, moving in to curl a lock of your hair. When he pulls away, he lingers on your lips, caring not about the busybody townspeople staring at you two and whispering.

"I've always wanted to do that," he admits with a small smile, and you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping in for another kiss.

“Am I interruptin’ something?” Django asks, elbows on his knees. He’s sitting on the bench in front of the shop, and King’s eyes widen.

“Django, my boy--! You didn’t... we-- you didn’t, you couldn’t, eh... hear... could you?”

“I was tryin’ not to!” Django grins, “But y’all gotta work on the volume. Sounded like you’s running a brothel in there.”

You giggle into King’s shoulder as the man huffs and blushes, fixing his waistcoat.

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