#adcu

[rynwritesstuff]

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need. 

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him. 

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood. 

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here. 

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp. 

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles. 

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you. 

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers. 

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place?  This is worth it. This is worth everything. 

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for? 

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you. 

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up. 

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown. 

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. 

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops. 

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . . 

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be. 

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest. 

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready. 

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

[renstardust]

Two months.

It had been exactly two months since you fled the First Order, leaving behind your life as Apprentice beneath Commander Ren.

You left without any trace or explanation. Ren assumed you left because you didn’t think anyone would care; that they could track down another dark side loving Force-user with ease. He worried that maybe, you thought you were disposable.

It’s not like the lingering glances or touches between you and your Master meant anything anyway — it was all just business. Neither of you had time for feelings or any of that soft shit.

He assumed you’d think he wouldn’t care if you left. That if anything, he’d probably be relieved. That he could find someone older, stronger, more serious about being in one of the most sought after positions in the galaxy.

Kylo was losing his fucking mind, actually.

The worst part was that he could feel you. Everywhere. Not just in the Force signature you’d left behind that lingered in the cold, metal hallways of the Supremacy, or in your former quarters (the same quarters he now only visits once a day, sometimes twice), but he could feel you, out there, running about.

Driving him utterly insane.

He replayed every little conversation in his head, every moment you’d spent together: training sessions, meditations, meal times, quiet moments in cockpits during missions. Trying to piece together every memory, trying to figure out exactly when and how he screwed up.

What he did — or didn’t do — to keep you.

Losing you made Kylo realize how deeply he actually felt about you. The sound of your voice that he felt soothed by, the way your black clothes hugged your body in a manner that would make his pants feel uncomfortably tight, how graceful and calculative your combat skills looked, both in training and actual fights.

He missed the warmth of your scent. The softness of your hair. Those beautiful fucking eyes. Your little quirks, your sense of humor, your confidence, your occasional stubbornness, your persistence.

Gods, he missed you. You haunted his dreams, interrupted his meditation sessions, caused a tightness in his chest that hasn’t disappeared since the day you were suddenly gone.

As if you were never here to begin with.

Kylo’s lip trembled, tears pricking at his hazel eyes as he sat in his quarters after a particularly rough day of training with the Knights. He shook his head, shoving his feelings aside, including the everlasting urge to go sit in your old quarters across the hall and try to smell the barely-there scent of your perfume. He still hasn’t let the cleaning droids come near that room.

Was he….grieving you?

Should he go looking for you? Maybe he could coax you back-

“Why is everyone being a dick to me today?”

Your voice suddenly filled his quarters, pulling him from his daze, the metal door sliding shut behind you. Kylo blinked, tense as ever, quickly rising from his seat and adjusting himself. His eyes were wide, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted.

“I get it, I took a little leave to visit my family, but I really needed it, and I’m glad I did it. Two months without my datapad was really refreshing too. It’s not my fault everyone else here is married to their job.”

Kylo cleared his throat, confused as all hell.

“Apprentice-“

“Especially Hux! He looked at me like I was a ghost. I get that we aren’t on the greatest terms, but he could’ve at least acknowledged me with a nicety.”

“APPRENTICE.”

Your lips snapped shut, eyes widening at your Master’s stern, husky voice. The extra deep version that you only heard when he was at his breaking point.

“What, Kylo?”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“…On vacation? I sent everyone notice like three weeks before I left. And the night before…?”

“Nobody knew you went on vacation.”

“But Officer Mitaka told me to have fun before I left.”

A beat of silence. A creak of leather in Kylo’s gloved hands, now squeezing into big fists. Tight, trembling fists.

“Which database did you forward the notice to?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eleven. I usually message in eleven.”

“Highest ranking officials message in database thirteen, Apprentice.”

Your pupils dilate, lips parting. “Fuck, is that why none of you guys reacted to the pictures I sent?”

Kylo didn’t know whether he wanted to kill you, or take you right then and there. Irritation and relief pulsed through his body simultaneously as he took in slow breaths of frustration. He was fucking pissed.

And so, so fucking happy.

You were here.

You never really left.

Kylo pulled his lips into his mouth, eyes darkening before he responded. “Medbay. Now. Let’s go.”

“Why?”

“I’m getting you tagged, Apprentice.”

[adamsbiscooti]

oh my

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Embrace Me

(1-1)

Short story # 26

Gif NOT mine.

Paring - Commander Mills X Plussize!Reader

Summary - Your simply trying to relax after a grueling day of hiking, across the tundra of an unknown planet. And Commander Mills is absolutely determined to relax with you, his copilot and long time crush.

Rating - SFW (It gets a bit spicy, but nothing occurs.)

Reading time (roughly) - 12 minutes

Year posted - 2025

"Can we please rest for the night? I feel like I've got blisters on my blisters." (Y/n) whined at her Commander, who was walking a short distance ahead of her. He sighed heavily through his nose, glancing back at his copilot over his shoulder. "We should find shelter first, it's going to storm tonight." He argued. (Y/n) groaned in response, her feet were killing her, and her gear grew heavier and heavier with each step. "Why did we have to crash on such a miserable planet." She complained, as she adjusted the strap of her plasma rifle higher onto her shoulder. Mills chuckled softly at her words, silently agreeing with her assessment of this uncharted planet. "I would offer to carry you." Mills said as he glanced back, smirking at how quick (Y/n) perked up. "But you're awfully heavy." He teased playfully, laughing when he felt her throw a handful of berries at his back. "That's not nice." She huffed at him, feeling a tad bit insecure, despite knowing he was only joking. Mills turned to observe her expression, and before he could see the look of insecurity on her face, (Y/n) pulled up a mask of playful bitterness. Even going as far as to childishly stick her tongue out at him. Again he simply chuckled and turned back to continue leading the way.

Almost an hour later they finally found a suitable place for shelter, and in the nick of time. As soon as they'd sat their packs down within the cave, it was as if the heavens had simply opened up, and a downpour of rain fell from the darkening sky. "Finally." (Y/n) sighed as she plopped down onto the ground, carefully pulling her boots off with a hiss of discomfort. While Mills on the other hand began setting up a perimeter defense, or rather a security system. The rhythmic hum of the security devices was soothing in a way, knowing that as long as they remind humming this calm tone, then they were completely safe. "Here." Mills offered (Y/n) his canteen of fresh water. "Thanks." She excepted it gratefully, taking a generous sip before pushing it back towards him. "I'm okay, drink up, you need it." He assured her, and though she knew it wasn't, it felt like another jab at her weight. "Okay." She muttered softly, her eyes unable to hide her sadness, as she looked down at the canteen in her hand. "Hey are you okay?" Mills asked, instantly picking up on her sudden shift in mood. (Y/n) willed herself to perk up a bit, a false smile stretching across her face smoothly. "Yeah just tired is all." She lied through her teeth, and while Mills looked like he wanted to say something, he simply nodded his head, and turned his attention to rummaging through his pack.

(Y/n) took a few more generous sips of the water, and as she sealed the lid, Mills held his hand out to her. "You should eat something." He said as he opened his palm to her, inside his hand lay a chocolate bar, her personal favorite chocolate at that. A nagging voice in the back of her mind taunted her, echoing that he chose chocolate specifically because of her weight. "I'm not really all that hungry, just wanna rest is all." She lied again, ignoring the hungry twist in her gut. "We've been walking all day, you need to keep up your energy." Mills insisted, placing the chocolate into her and, and closing her fingers around it. "Sure." She muttered softly, wishing the ground would just open up beneath her, and swallow her whole. Mills smiled at her, pleased that he had been able to snag a few of her favorite chocolate bars, before they left the tattered ships kitchen behind. (Y/n) had peeled back the wrapper, and was taking tentative bites of her chocolate. Her eyes following Mills as he refilled the canteen with rain water, and then retrieved a snack for himself. A preserved granola, high in protein, low in fat... And sugar. She felt the urge to throw up, but swallowed the knot of bile building in her throat. Unable to take it anymore she shoved the rest of the chocolate bar into her pack, and lay back against the hard dirt covered ground. Her eyes swirled with insecurities and sadness, as she stared at the roof of the cave.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mills asked suddenly, observing her with concerned eyes. He'd never seen her act like this, and while it wasn't everyday they crash landed on an uncharted planet, he worried that there was something else bothering her. "I'm perfectly fine." (Y/n) insisted as she closed her eyes. "You know..." He started as he sat aside the rest of his food. "It's okay to be scared right now." (Y/n) took a deep breath through her nose, and crossed her ankles. "I'm pretty shaken up myself." He admitted in a soft reassuring voice, watching as she simply laced her fingers together on top of her soft belly. Mills swallowed thickly as he observed her, wandering if she felt as soft and cozy as she looked. "I'm just tired okay." She insisted with a bit of a bite at the end. "Okay." Was all Mills could bring himself to say, and for a moment his attention was drawn outside, as a crack of thunder rumbled menacingly in the darkness. When his eyes cast back to (Y/n) he noticed how she shivered slightly when a gust of wind blew through the cave. He smiled faintly at the sight of her, noticing how peaceful she appeared to be in this moment. Without thinking Mills crossed the distance to kneel at her feet. She didn't seem to notice his proximity, or she simply chose to ignore it all together. However when he gently grasped her ankles, and uncrossed her legs she reacted. "What are you doing?" Was all she said, her eyes still closed.

"You're cold." Mills stated as a matter of fact, before pushing her legs up until her knees bent. As he slotted himself between her legs, and pressed himself as close to her as he could, she opened her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question, what the hell are you doing?" She asked and though her tone sounded annoyed, her eyes betrayed her and bared her curiosity to him. "Keeping you warm." Mills stated casually as he hooked (Y/n)'s legs to rest comfortably around his waist. Afterwards he took ahold of her wrists, and pulled her arms up to lay beside her head, his hands engulfing her own, and keeping her locked in place. "A blanket would have sufficed." (Y/n) uttered as their noses brushed from their close proximity. "I was cold too, and we only have the one blanket. You know after you lost yours yesterday." He teased her with a grin on his face. "You're so annoying sometimes, you know that?" (Y/n) huffed as she tried wiggling free, only to freeze with a squeak, when she felt just how much of him was pressed against her. Mills hummed at the feeling and nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling her natural musk after sweating most of the day. (Y/n) wanted to wiggle away, feeling insecure about how she smelled. "You're so soft." Mills muttered against her ear, his plush lips brushing against her skin. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to say, and despite herself, she felt herself relaxing beneath him.

"I've always wanted to be this close to you." He admitted in a soft whisper, his words making (Y/n)'s heart flutter. "Close? Mills you're more than just close. You're invading, suffocating, practically swallowing me." (Y/n) said as she made a mental note of how much his body was caging her entire body against the ground, how easily he covered her as if she was just a small thing. Mills pulled back a little, just enough to look at her face. "I can move." He said as he shifted to get off of her, however before he could move far, (Y/n) locked her legs around his hips, keeping him in place. "Don't you dare." She huffed at him in warning. With a smile he relaxed, and nuzzled his face into her neck again. "There is something you can do for me Commander." Mills shuttered at the use of his title. "Anything." He promised. "Let me feel all of you, crush me under your weight. Please." (Y/n) said in a breathless tone, finding herself desperate to feel him everywhere. Mills huffed against her neck finding desire flowing through his body, at the thought of truly laying on her. And without needing to be told twice he relaxed further, and little by little he dropped his full weight onto her. (Y/n)'s breathing became a bit shallow at the new weight on her ribs, but the moan that passed her lips was divine music to his ears. "Holy fuck that feels amazing." She breathed out, her fingers flexing and unflexing around his much larger ones.

"Keep making sounds like that, and we aren't going to get much rest." Mills murmured against her skin, moving so the bridge of his nose ran along the length of her jaw. "Fuck resting." (Y/n) huffed as she rocked her hips up, and moaning at the feeling of the curve of his cock nestled firmly against her. "You're going to be the death of me." Mills uttered as he pushed his groin against her, a groan bubbling in his throat when he felt just how much warmer she was there. (Y/n)'s breathing had become a bit more shallow, and sensing her body couldn't handle the extra weight, Mills pulled up just enough to ease the pressure off of her. (Y/n) grunted in annoyance however, and pushed her chest up to meet his. "Lay against me." She begged. "I don't want to hurt you." Mills argued before planting a feather light kiss against her forehead. "I don't care, I want you to crush me." She admitted before pushing forward to kiss him. Mills melted into the kiss, and slowly eased his weight onto her once more, greedily swallowing the moan that she gave to him. As the kiss deepened Mills began to slowly rock against (Y/n)'s clothed heat, offering them both some relief, and yet making them both crave more. "I want you to ride me." He admitted then they parted for air. "I thought I was too heavy." (Y/n) said, with a twinge of sadness in her voice. Understanding now the mistake he'd made earlier, Mills finally realized why she had been acting odd.

"Bullshit." He argued, and before she could say anything else. He hoisted them both up off of the ground, holding (Y/n) up by the fat of her thighs as if she weighed nothing at all. She had gasped in surprise and the sudden movement, and squeezed herself closer to him, afraid he would drop her. "You're so fucking perfect." Mills murmured as he rest his forehead against hers, allowing her body to lower just enough to keep his cock snug against her clothed sex. "Oh my god." (Y/n) panted almost breathlessly, as fear and desire coursed through her veins. Without thought she grinded down against him, her arms tightening around his shoulders, and her eyes squeezed shut. "So beautiful." Mills breathed out before kissing her once more, teeth and tongue clashing in a desperate symphony of love and desire. His large hands squeezed at her plush thighs, making him groan at how soft and squishy she felt. "I love you, fuck I love you." Mills declared against her lips, as he continued to grind against her. "Please let me show you how much I love you." He panted heavily, her moan going right to his core. "Please please please please." He rambled over and over, desperately wanting to make her feel good, and show her just how much he loves her. "Y-yes." (Y/n) nodded her head vigorously in agreement. "S-show me how m-much you love me Commander." She stammered over her words, her entire body buzzing with desire. "Thank you thank you thank you." Mills babbled as he began pulling at her clothes, desperate to see all of her body, and to finally get to worship every inch of her skin, and her very soul.

God I loved this movie... I mean sure it had some plot holes, but I could care less. The amount of grunting and heavy breathing we get to hear Adam make is divine... When I first watched this movie, I was wearing headphones, and oh my god he was killing me with those sounds. Anyhow I hope you enjoyed this one.

[strangunddurm]

Mine

Masterlist

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Summary: Flip Zimmerman was a man that liked to eat his cake and have it, too.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving). 

A/N: It's been ages since I wrote something so I'm so proud of myself for finally finishing something.

It was common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was utterly and completely infatuated with you. You were it for him. The one he would marry, build a house for, have kids with. You would be his end, but you were not his beginning.

It was also common knowledge that Flip Zimmerman was on an apparent path to sleep with everyone he could that wasn’t you. Fuck, finger, and fondle like he wasn’t an officer of the law and he wasn’t in a very public bar at that very moment. You could see his hand run along her leg, caressing it with the pads of his fingers before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt.

She threw her head back, laughing like nobody was watching, but, of course, you were. Your eyes were always lingering on his figure, just as his were yours. He watched you as he traced the lace of her panties, as he dipped them under the fabric; he watched you as he guided her lips to his; he watched you as he shattered your heart, always knowing that the comfort of your arms would always be there to sooth him in the end.

You often found yourself wondering: why? Why weren’t you enough for him at this point? Flip had this ability where he could string you along enough so that you, yourself, would feel guilty thinking of another man. Your possible unwillingness weren’t the reason for Flip’s hesitancy to commit, it was his. The unwilling fool in love with the same person he had always loved. Or perhaps you were the fool? Two fools in love that could never let the other one go.

Your friends often wondered why you subjected yourself to the torture of witnessing his lips upon another’s. You didn’t know how to explain to them that you only existed because of him. However demeaning and desperate it sounded, it was true. Whilst others existed for bettering the world or something other, you were made just to be his.

You thought for a while that you could live without him. That you could break free from his hold and flee from the place where everything reminded you of him but it was impossible. It didn’t make sense, how a man could possess you so entirely with just a whisper of attention. You thought it to be your own fault; a bleeding consequence of hope that wrecked your heart beyond anyone else’s repair. All you could do was wait for him. For you would forever be missing him otherwise, regretting not taking the possibility of even the tiniest something.

So, you found yourself there, putting on a front of indifference as you tried not to watch every stupid move Flip made in the arms of another. She was smug. It was so obvious from the way her eyes would flicker over to you every now and then as his lips caressed her shoulder or her neck.

She knew of Flip’s fondness for you, having seen the way he had given you a sliver of attention by the bar, letting his hand ghost over your hip before she had successfully lured him away from you and into her arms.

You were zoned out, barely hearing your friends’ voices as you stared hard at them. Your lip was near bloody from your nervous chewing as you, almost ritualistically, dragged your teeth over it again and again.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” The words were spoken in your ear, your best friends arm coming to wrap around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“I…” She didn’t allow you to continue on the miserable spiel that she had heard so many times before.

“I don’t want to hear it. Not again. You need to realise that you’re worth more than whatever the hell this whole thing is,” She pleaded, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you sounded so fragile at that moment. Your voice wavered at the end, fading out as everything you felt became almost too much.

“Yes, you can. You just need to realise that you don’t owe him anything. Sitting here completely miserable isn’t going to make him change or do anything different.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here with you! Every night we go out to have fun, he comes along and ruins it.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You turned to look at her as you forced the words out harshly. But the look in her eyes made the feigned anger falter.

“I love you. You deserve more. Try to enjoy your life before you realise it’s too late,” She said, squeezing your shoulder.

Did you really deserve more? You had been caught up in the web of Flip for so long that you truly did believe that staying completely devoted to him was the only way forward. You knew he would eventually tire and stop indulging himself in others. It was an unconventional relationship, unfavourable to you in every sense.

But who was to say that you weren’t allowed to enjoy others? Just the way he were? An innocent tryst with another that would scratch that itch not even your fingers could ease late at night.

You let your eyes trail over the inhabitants of the local watering hole. There were the usuals there, sitting at the bar, nursing their beers. A group of frat boys were in the corner, cheering over shots. It wasn’t until a pair of dark brown eyes met your own that your interested was piqued.

You probably wouldn’t have dared made a move if he hadn’t come sauntering over. He didn’t walk like Flip. Flip’s walk was self-assured, dominating in a subtle way. This guy walked in a cocky way, shoulders swaying with every step as he though himself holier than thou. It was off-putting, but you thought you owed it to yourself to at least try.

“Saw you watching me over there.” His attempt at flirting was just as cocky as his walk.

“Oh, hahah..” Your laugh was awkward as you fumble for a reply. “Do you come here often?”

“First time actually, I’m here visiting my brother.” He motioned toward some guy in the back that you couldn’t see.

“That’s nice,” You said awkwardly.

He introduced himself as he took perch on the barstool next to you, shaking your hand weakly.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, motioning for the bartender to refill both of your glasses at the same time.

“Ehm… Come here, I guess.” You waved your hand in the air, uncommittedly. Anxiety was flooding your nerves, practically inhibiting your ability to speak. You let your eyes trail over the room again quickly. Flip was still hands-deep in that woman’s skirt, your friends had slipped off somewhere else, getting lost in others.

The man, Chris, held a one-sided conversation without seeming to notice your less than keen interest. The thought of letting go and trying to flirt with somebody else was always easier in theory rather than practice.

It wasn’t his fault, if you were somebody else you might’ve enjoyed it. But all you could think about was the way his eyes were too dark, his hair too light, and his voice to high to remind you of Flip.

“Listen,” He placed his hand on your thigh. High up, bold, wanting. “I really like you, what do you say about getting out of here?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before a chest pressed against your back.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

You felt faint hearing Flip’s voice rumble through his chest as he pulled himself closer to you. His hand wrapped around Chris’s wrist, forcing it away from your leg.

“Hey, man, we were having a conversation here.” Chris was foolish. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t from here, after all. He didn’t know the perfectly concealed rage that could simmer under Flip’s skin when he felt like he was being disrespected.

“I’m going to offer you a piece of advice.”

“Flip, don’t-” Interjecting was pointless. Flip did whatever Flip wanted.

“You should take your drink, go back to whatever lowly corner you came from, and stay there. Get it through your thick skull that you’re not wanted here.” Flip roughly pushed the glas of beer Chris had been nursing on the bar, it’s content sloshing over the sides as it almost toppled over.

The silence that followed hung in the air, permeating it, polluting it. It didn’t take long for Chris to visibly crumble under Flip’s stare but it was almost as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to give in to the menacing man that had appeared out of nowhere. Reasonable, perhaps, but entirely futile. Flip would always get what he wanted in the end, no matter what.

Chris left without a word, sparing you a pitiful glance before he was gone and all that was Flip took over your senses as he rounded you, coming to a stop so you were chest to chest.

You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead, focusing on the way his chest would calmly breath in and out as he waited.

“Look at me,” His voice was low, steady. You wanted to, of course, but you were stubborn. Just when you were putting yourself first, there he was again. A forever keg in your wheels, keeping you in the same place.

His fingers were soft against your chin as he urged it upwards, making you look at him.

He was smiling. Not a full on grin, but that sweet, cheeky little smile that held so much mirth that you wanted to hit him. It’s like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you to act out and finally do something for yourself.

“Wipe that smile of your face,” you hissed out. “What could you possible have to smile about?”

“You.”

“Oh, yeah, because it is so funny ruining my fucking life.”

“Ruining it?”

“Yeah, ruining it.”

“You should’ve just said something if you felt that way.” You almost laughed at that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said something. It felt like all you did was talk, and all he did was not care.

“Cut me a fucking break, Flip. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing to me. This- this game you’ve been playing, toying with my heart. One minute it feels like you might actually want me but then the next you go and fucksomebody else and I’m just suppose to pretend that it’s all fine?”

“It’s not?” He said, playfully.

“Fuck you.”

“Stop swearing, and keep your voice down.”

“What? So that your whore won’t hear us?”

“She means nothing,” He said

“So why do you keep doing this? Why keep stringing me along?” You were defeated. Your relationship with Flip was strange. Peculiar. Unexplainable in certain aspects as you yourself did not entirely know exactly what you two were.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes as all the hurt you had felt over the past however-long caught up to you. He was looking down at you, as if in wonder. Was it possible that Flip Zimmerman was naive to the way he had treated you? To the way he had made you suffer? Had you been imagining it all in your head?

He didn’t look sorry, he didn’t sound sorry, but when the apology tumbled out of his mouth, you accepted it. Perhaps it was you who were naive but you wanted a moment of happiness with him. Even if it was a moment entirely clouded by delusion.

You nodded your head, a small movement of acceptance that made Flip light up.

Flip would always shine brighter than any star you had ever seen. He took your breath away and filled you with a rush of serotonin every time you gazed into his eyes for even a brief second. His eyes were like molten gold, blinding you as they tinkled. Devotion to him and only him was inevitable.

“Will you come home with me?” The answer was obvious. The question had been what you had waited for. Taking his hand and slipping out through the door before any of your friends still caught in reason could stop you.

His hand dipped between your legs, fingers mapping out a path to your most sacred place the second he pushed you through the door of his home.

"Look at you, already so wet for me." Flip chuckled darkly. He knew you couldn't resist him. Your need for him was as deep as his need was for you.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. His tongue caressed yours as teeth clashed.

His fingers toyed with your panties, teasing you. He knew how desperate you were for anything he would give you.

He took his time, teasing your more and more before he finally was gracious enough to slide a finger inside of you. Just a single finger to test you. You walls clamped down around him tightly, gripping him, coaxing him to give you more. He pumped it in and out of you slowly, so slowly that you thought you might lose your mind if he didn't give you something more, and you voiced so much.

"Please, Flip." What you needed was clear. But that didn’t mean Flip would be so easy to give in.

"You’ll get more, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.” He said sweetly before withdrawing from you completely.

"Flip-"

"You're so impatient." He chided you, tutting teasingly with a lazy smile on his lips. “Go to the bedroom.” He commanded whilst motioning his head in its direction. You were quick to obey, of course, feet moving swiftly as you stumbled your way on shaky legs through the halls and onto his bed.

You flipped onto it in excitement, eager for his touch once again.

“Is this what you wanted? To be one of my whores?” He asked as he undressed slowly, unbuttoning his flannel and letting his jeans fall to the floor before he took a stand by the foot of the bed. He trailed his hands up your legs equally as slow before grabbing a hold of your panties and pulling them off you. You couldn’t get any words out to respond, whining with need.

The evidence of your excitement was clear to him, almost dripping and shining in the low light. A sane man wouldn’t be able to hold back having a women presented so willingly to him with her legs spread wide and skirt bunched up around her hip, chest heaving with excitement. And of course, Flip was a sane man, in some sense at least, for he was quick to crawl in between your legs and mouth attached to your clit.

Digging his fingers into your thighs, he hauled one of them onto his shoulder and connected his mouth to your sweet cunt.

The sounds of your breathless moans were intoxicating as he suckled your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the stiff nubb.

Your knees fought against his shoulders as your hand came to cover your mouth, willing any sounds to stay inside of you as you bit down softly as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure rushing through you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart.” Flip praised in a panted breath before diving back in.

You fought to keep your eyes open as your hips moved up and down in a desperate attempt to grind your aching clit against his mouth and nose in search for that perfect sensation that would drive you over the edge.

Your hand slid into Flip’s hair, gliding through it before grasping a firm hold of it as a wave after wave of moans finally made their way out of you.

Flip had already made you come once when he slid his fingers into you, continuing his ministrations on your clit with his mouth. His movement were much rougher than what they had been before, thrusting them into you expertely, hitting that sweet spot of yours over and over again.

Your back arched into the air and mouth fell open at the overstimulation. It was exquisite.

“Oh, oh, Flip. I’m gonna cum.” You whined desperately. “Oh, God.”

You clung to his arm in an attempt to hold on to any sort of sanity but it was all for nought. Your legs spasmed as you came with a cry.

Flip tried to hold you down as he never let up despite your half hearted please, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again and again and again. He worked you through your orgasm, never relenting as your silent whimpers spured him on. You had such a tight hold on his hair that it made him groan, sending a wave of vibrations through you that caused you to gasp. He only stopped once your whimpers had grown in volume to a steady whine of pleas.

“You’re such a good girl.” Flip praised as he came up, hovering over you. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Please, Flip.”

He tugged at his hard and weeping cock a few times as he admired you. You were breath taking like this, legs parted, eyes hazy from your orgasm, cunt dripping, ready for him.

"You’re gonna look so gorgeous, covered with my cum." Flip's voice was husky as he leaned down and pulled you closer to him by your face before planting a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips as he came to rest between your hips, a single arm keeping him up.

He dragged his thick and cum weeping cock through your folds a few times, thoroughly coating it in your slickness. The anticipation was killing you. His fingers and tongue weren't enough, you wanted more, needed it.

You grabbed a hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer even to you in desperation.

"Please, Flip." You whispered, ready for him.

The sigh the both of you let out when he finally slipped all the way into your cunt was one of relief. You had missed this, had missed him.

Flip didn't give you time to adjust to him before he started pounding into you at a pace that was brutal in nature, just the way he knew you liked it.

“You’re such a dirty fucking whore.” He spat at you and you clenched around him in response. "Look at you, so desperate for my dick you could almost cry." Being his whore and whatever he wanted was everything you had ever wanted since the moment you had laid eyes on him.

He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself. Flip's loud groans were bouncing around the walls of his room, blended in with your own gasps from every thrust into you.

Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.

"Fuck" You groaned. "Feels so- fucking good." You shakily breath out.

"This is what you wanted right? My cock so deep within you you’ll feel me for days" He cooed, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still as sharp, still as precise, and hard, and calculated.

A wailing yes! left your lips. You were sure you would be able to feel Flip's hands on your hips as you would nurse your hangover tomorrow, and most likely the day after that as well. You would feel him in every step you took. Forever.

"Harder." You pleaded.

He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.

"I love it when you do that." He praised, followed by another rut into you.

He continued pumping into yours sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy. The sound of skin slapping and noises of pleasure mixed together as they bounced on the walls and around the room.

His thrusts had picked up in pace one again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching, getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come,"

"No, you're not." Flip withdrew from you completely, flipping down on the bed beside you. You were drunk on the feeling of him, needy and desperate, ready to take everything he would give to you.

His legs were spread, cock standing on full attention, bobbing against his stomach, it's tip coloured an angry red, ready to be inside of you again.

"Come on then." He pulled you out of the short-lived trance you had been in over the sight of him. You though again of how there was something so ethereal about him, something other than just his looks, something that would always draw you back in and keep you on his hook.

You were quick in your movements, throwing a leg around his hips and hoisting yourself upright, causing him to chuckle over your desperation.

"Eager, are we?" He welcomed you with open arms, hands coming up to rest on your hips once again, as he gazed up at you with a smile on his face.

He helped you pull your wrinkled dress over your head, placing open mouthed kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach. His lips attached themselves to your perked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He sounded as if he was in awe simply over the sight of you.

You sank down swiftly, engulfing him with your tight walls, stopping only when you were at the base, stuffed full of him.

"Oh, fuck, Flip!" The change in angle had you convinced that he was deeper in you than ever before, the tip of him nestling against your cervix.

"You feel so good like this." Flip moaned. He tapped two fingers against the side of your thigh, signalling you to move and you were more than happy to oblige. Your feet were securely rooted on the floor and you placed your hands on the walls to give yourself the leverage and support you needed to begin riding him.

He let you control every movement; let you set the pace as you slid up and down on his throbbing cock. Flip's hands were exploring every inch of you that they could reach, massaging your breasts, caressing your thighs, sliding across your back, and then, finally, they found their way to the apex of your thighs and started firmly circling your clit.

Flip let out a loud grunt every time you slammed yourself down onto him. It was a sound you wanted to hear every day, every waking moment and in every vivid dream.

The steady pace that you had managed to keep was slowly becoming nothing as you felt yourself loosing control over your limbs the closer you climbed to that high you were chasing. The muscles in your stomach were tightening rapidly over the coiling tension and your walls gripped him even tighter.

"Say my name."

"What?" You weren't lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.

"Say. My. Name." He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him.

His name spilled out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a moan.

"Who’s making you feel this good?" You weren't as quick to heed his words this time, the building pressure between your legs taking up all of your attention.

His hands were back on your hips, forcing you up, slipping out of you, and then guiding you dominantly into the position he wanted with your face pressed into the sheets and your ass high up in the ar. He was swift to enter you again, you had barely even had time to complain over the loss of him before he was drilling into you.

"Flip!" You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. He hadn't even faltered in his movements, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. He was panting loudly in between groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You." Another sharp thrust into you.

"Who owns this pussy?"

"You, Flip. Oh, god, you, Flip!" Small droplets of tears were leaking from the corner of your eyes as Flip was steadily driving you to cum again as he fucked into you.

You hadn't felt this way before, you didn't even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right here, right now, forever.

"That's fucking right." Flip came with a deep jerk into you, pulling out to come all over your back before entering you again to give you a few last thrilling pumps.

You laid there on his bed in a heap, totally out of it as he calmly came to rest beside you. He coaxed you onto your back so that he could plant a sweet kiss on your lips. Uttering words that made your erratic heart pump even faster.

“All mine.”

Thank you for reading! Please check out my Masterlist if you want to read more.

Tags in reblog.

[babbushka]

Death At The Dive Bar

Flip Zimmerman X F!Reader

Inspired by this request, some weird twilight-zone occult occurrences happen to happen to our favorite detective. 3.4k, NSFW

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It’s always the same -- a scream, a crash, broken glass bloodied on the floor. A gunshot maybe, or maybe not. In the dead of night, acts of violence hiding beneath a cloak of darkness. 

It’s always the same -- a 911 call, frantic panicked voices demanding someone come down from the station, someone please help, before it’s too late, even though the very act of them picking up the phone means it’s already done. 

It’s always the same -- until it isn't. And on a dark and stormy summer night in the thick of the Rocky Mountains, a tiny dive bar calls the nearest police dispatcher, and calmly requests to speak to one Detective Flip Zimmerman of Colorado Springs. 

Flip had been in the area when he got the call over the radio, wandering around, scoping out the woods. He knew at once where it was, had heard stories of the place of course, way back in the day when he still wore the weight of the war like a thick leather jacket around his shoulders. When he pulls up in his Chevy it looks exactly the same as it always had been described: run down, small, with a buzzing neon sign proudly proclaiming The Mile High Tavern as the best place to grab a Coors within 50 miles. Nevermind that it was the only place. 

He sits in his truck and glares at the bar. Popular with passers-through along winding scenic roads and most frequented by motorcyclists seeking shelter from the rain, he wonders (not for the first time this week) what the hell he’s getting himself into. The note from the dispatcher had been vague -- a lady was askin’ for him specifically, and he was supposed to find out why. Things like this didn’t bode well for him, usually. 

Especially not lately, not with the way his last relationship flopped. He had tried to explain to the nice woman that his job took up a lot of his time -- had hoped that her big city job had given her a different perspective, but she didn’t seem to think his work hours applied to her. That had been three months ago that she left him, and he was still sore from it. 

No, a woman asking for him directly was the last thing Flip wanted to get himself tangled up in, regardless of the reason. 

Despite the rain, there isn’t the usual line of motorcycles out front. In fact, there was only one car to be seen, an oldie -- something chrome plated and pink, but he can’t really tell in the rainy darkness. The Mile High Tavern appeared for all intents and purposes to be empty, and so Flip takes one last drag of his cigarette, makes sure his gun is loaded and in its holster, and with a sigh of resignation steps into the downpour. 

“Let me get you something nice and warm,” A friendly voice calls over to him from the counter when Flip steps over the threshold, your back turned to him. All at once, Flip’s heart begins to pound. Something about this place felt odd to him, an uneasy feeling that shifted his stomach around. He took another step closer and you continued, “I’m afraid the only hot thing we’ve got tonight is coffee.” 

“Coffee’d be just fine, thank you.” Flip nods with gratitude, before sitting at the bar. Looking around, he notes how quaint the little place is. It’s neat and clean and warm, and he confirms that you are the only person in here. He wonders if you’ve been alone long, and frowns. “I’m sorry - I’m Detective Zimmerman, someone here rang for me?” 

“I’d be that someone, yes.” You slide him a cup of black coffee down the counter that you lean against with a smile. It is dazzling, bright in the dark light of the dive bar. “Thank you for coming out here, I appreciate how quick you were.” 

Well shit, Flip grimaces into his mug, now he feels like an asshole for sitting in the truck debating when, or if, he should brave the rain to head inside. 

You smile at him like you knew he was out there biding his time, a teasing smile that lets him know you’re not mad, even though you could be. It wasn’t professional for a law officer to keep someone waiting like that. 

“What seems to be the trouble?” He doesn’t bring up the fact that they’re alone. 

It was dangerous these days, with all the murders in the woods lately. Women being slaughtered left and right by what Flip is certain is a serial killer, but no one will take him seriously enough about it to do anything. Not without more evidence. 

“Do you..” You pause, as if you’re trying to find the words. No, that’s not it, as if you’re having a hard time spitting them out, like something is preventing you. “May I sit next to you?” 

You look at him with expectation and hope, and he stares into your eyes, searching for what the hell brought him all the way out here on his night shift. The clock strikes three in the morning. 

He doesn’t notice himself nodding with allowance, until you’re walking around the counter and getting close to him. Even though it’s warm in the bar, your hands are cold. 

“Thank you,” You breathe, getting close to him. Not so close that you’re touching, but close enough that he could brush against your shoulder with his own. “I don’t usually work alone, but tonight the other server is sick, and with the storm we aren’t expecting too many people, so here I am. There was something out there.” 

You stare directly into his eyes, and he’s almost taken aback by the seriousness and bluntness of your voice. Your voice is hypnotic almost, the edges of your words fuzzy and sharp at the same time, an impossible combination that has his palms sweating. He wonders for a brief moment if you slipped something into his coffee, but the thought leaves him as soon as it arrives.

“What sort of something?” He finds himself asking quietly, not wanting whatever it is to overhear. He thinks back to the past few weeks, the broken in-houses, the tape on the floor, the screams of agony. Flip sets his jaw and leans in close, looks deep into your wide open eyes, pupils huge in the dark. 

“A figure, on the other side of the window. I saw it in the lightning, I saw its eyes. I think it’s a man. I’m scared.” You whisper, lowering your voice to match his pitch. 

“I can escort you home -- ” He goes to get up, a rush of protective energy flowing through him, scraping the bar stool against the wooden floor, the sound so so so loud in the quiet of the bar, but your hand is gripping his arm the second he gets up.

“No!” Your voice is too sharp again, dark around the edges, and Flip looks down and sees panic in your eyes. He softens immediately, and even though he’s not supposed to, even though it’s unprofessional, even though you’re a stranger, he pulls you into a hug for some comfort. You throw your arms around him in return, and he’s not certain who is comforting whom. “No -- I -- I don’t want it to know where I live, if it follows us. I was hoping you could keep me company.” 

Your face is pressed into his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he feels complete, he feels like he’s never ever going to let go. He feels like you were made to fit into his arms, against his chest. He grows hot, his throat clearing as he immediately steps back to give you some space. 

You’re a stranger. 

He doesn’t even know your name. 

The rain pounds outside and lightning flashes, and Flip snaps back to reality. 

“I don’t think I can stay all night, I would have brought backup.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, offering, “I can do a search of the premises, if that would make you feel better.” 

“You shouldn’t go outside.” You shake your head, and Flip lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glad that you have relieved him from what would have been one bitch of a job. Especially when you look up at him through your lashes and bite your lip and say, “I would prefer it if you stayed in here. With me.” 

“Alright.” He smiles, throwing all caution to the wind because what the hell else is he going to do on a Monday night? “If you’d feel safer with me staying here with you, I’ll stay. But in the morning, I’ll escort you either home or to another safe location, or hell even to the station and you can give a statement, and we’ll have someone out here searching the woods.” 

“That sounds like a plan, thank you.” Your hand rests on the bar counter close to his, so close, he nudges his pinky against yours. There’s no rings on your finger, he notices. 

“In the meantime, what should we do?” He licks his lips, knowing that it’s wrong, it’s an abuse of power -- but who has power over whom? He’s getting lost in your eyes, in the pretty smile you give him as you reach over the bar counter and grab a small rectangular pack of -- 

“I have a deck of cards.” You brandish them at him, looking over your shoulder with a grin. The way you’re bent over the bartop has Flip’s mind doing awful things, things like picturing you without any of those clothes on. “You any good at poker?” 

Flip was not good at poker. 

He’s lost the past two games and you’re already shuffling for a third. The energy in the bar has relaxed significantly, and Flip is starting to forget why he’s there. 

“Let’s up the ante.” You say, in an attempt to discourage or motivate him, he isn’t sure, as you shuffle and shuffle and shuffle the cards. “Each hand someone loses, they take something off.” 

“I don’t see how this ends any other way than me naked.” Flip grunts, not entirely displeased by the prospect. 

“You could win, and then I’d be the naked one.” You point out, and he laughs, a snort through his nose that exhales blue wispy smoke from his cigarette. 

On the first hand, Flip loses -- but that’s all it takes. He unbuttons his shirt and you’re hot on him, pinching his cigarette out and flicking it into the ashtray for him, your lips searing onto his. No one can ever find out about this, can ever know he’s about to fuck this stranger on the job, fuck you silly over the bar counter while on a call, and you don’t seem like the type to tell. Not with the way you’re pulling your blouse up over your head.

He hadn’t really paid any attention to what you’re wearing until it’s off, in a heap on the floor around him. The undergarments you wear are old fashioned, a bullet bra and girdle that hold up a pair of stockings. The clothes on the floor are old fashioned too, almost like the same exact uniform that a waitress might have worn at the Tavern twenty years ago. 

But they look new, and maybe the tavern never updated their uniforms,Flip doesn’t care, not with the way your hands are on his belt, pulling his hard dick out of his pants and spitting down onto it, spreading the spit around, his tip leaking and joining the mix. 

With ragged breath, he pushes you down face first onto the bartop again, pops the straps of your bra, your garter, pushes down your stockings. They rip under his rough treatment, and he feels bad for a moment, just a moment, until his cock is rubbing at the soft wet folds of you and you let out a moan that fills the tavern with warmth. 

“I don’t have a -- ” He starts, pulling away, trying to remember that he’s almost forty for fuck’s sake, he needs to be responsible, he needs to -- 

“It’s alright.”  You reach behind him and grab at his hand, leading him to drape his body over yours, giving him permission to fuck you anyway. 

With a sharp breath he pushes in all the way, bottoms out so that his cock is completely enveloped inside of you, his hips pressed against the smooth skin of your ass, and he almost can’t move he’s so blinded by the feeling. You’re so tight, and so wet, the bar smells like musk and sweat and rain, the sweet salty combination making his mind go dizzy. 

He’s never talked much during sex, and this is no different, but in the back of his mind he wishes he had something good enough to say to you, something impressive. Instead, he thrusts in a steady harsh rhythm that has your knees buckling, your hands gripping the far edge of the bar counter, your cheek pressed against the polished wood, mouth dropped open and eyes shut tight in pleasure. 

Flip’s hands on your waist are tight enough that he could dig them into you if he wasn’t careful, he could leave marks. He almost wants to, wants you to remember him when this is over and he’ll have to go back to the station, have to write a report about all of this. Not this, not you, not the way your sweet cunt clenches around him as you take his force, take his length, hot and pulsing inside of you. 

He needs to see you, all of a sudden, he needs to. Grabbing your arms, he pulls out only long enough for you to whine in protest for a few short seconds, and then he’s taking you to a booth, taking you somewhere padded that he can lie you down and brace himself on top of you. 

You lick your lips as your head rolls back, legs spreading for him to nestle between them as he bends over you, those same legs hooking around his waist. You’re completely naked, your perky breasts begging to be sucked on, and so he does. He wonders if the rasp of his clothes on your skin feels nice, if you like it. If you like him. 

It’s too hot in here, Flip thinks, his eyes shut as he pants against your body. Too hot and bright, bright behind his eyelids as he groans and moans. He’s sweating, and it’s loud, the sound of rain too loud, its wooshing a roar that deafens his ears. He almost can’t think about anything else, can’t think about the way you feel under him, why is it so bright why is it so hot -- 

It hits you first, and you’re squirming, panting and moaning as you come. Flip can feel it squelching between your thighs, his cock pulling out shiny and glistening with your orgasm. It makes him go over the edge, his come filling you up, the hot white spread of it. He tries not to worry about fucking you raw, but it’s been a long time since he hasn’t used a rubber. 

You give him a big grin, stretching out beneath him, your legs falling to the sides where they can. It’s still raining. 

Wordlessly, he gathers you up from underneath him and settles you down on the floor, kissing all over your face, your neck, your breasts. Your stomach chuckles underneath him as you hold him close, breathing in the smell of him. He doesn’t want you to ever let go. 

“Then don’t.” You sigh into his hair there on the floor, and Flip closes his eyes, tired from the events of the day. 

He doesn’t realize that you’ve responded to his thoughts, until he’s in a deep sleep. 

In the morning, he’s alone. 

In the morning, the dive bar isn’t just old, it’s run down. The windows are smashed like kids had been playing pranks here, tossing bottles and rocks through the glass. The shelves are all empty, no liquor, nothing. 

Flip feels like he is frozen as he looks around him. Where were you? Where were the cards that had scattered all over the floor? He is fully dressed, asleep in a booth that is covered in dust and cobwebs -- it wasn’t that dirty yesterday, was it? 

He’s sick, his stomach lurching as he sits up. He doesn’t even know your name to shout it out into the bar. In the light of morning, the rain has stopped, and Flip gathers himself up on uncertain legs. He looks around, trying to find any trace of you, but there isn’t one. There’s only one set of boot prints in the dust on the floor, his own.

Confusion continues to wash over him, which slowly morphs into panic. These windows weren’t broken last night, the floor wasn’t dusty, where the fuck were you? He stumbles to his truck, his mind working double time trying to piece together what happened. Surely he hadn’t dreamt this, what was he doing last night? He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t stoned he -- 

“Come in, Flip, come in!” A panicked voice crackles from his car, and making sure his gun is still in the holster, Flip runs right to his truck, hopping in and turning the engine over. 

“Ron?” Flip grasps the radio tightly in his hand, tuning the frequency to hear better. “Ron is that you? What’s going in?” 

“Flip! Where are you?” Ron asks, direct to the point. 

“I’m up by the fork in the mountain pass, just off the scenic highway.” 

“What?! Are you safe?” 

“Of course I’m safe, why wouldn’t I be? Ron what the fuck is happening?” Flip’s eyes are hard on the tavern, and even from the outside, something is wrong. This place was not open last night, it couldn’t have been. The walls are blackened with soot, the doors are boarded shut. How did he get in -- how did he get out?

“There was flash flooding, down the scenic road. It brought rocks down with it from all the rain. Search and rescue found a couple cars down the cliffside.” Ron rushes to explain, and Flip feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“They’re dead?” He pinches the bridge of his nose -- people were getting caught up in a flash flood while he was getting laid last night. 

“Yeah. You need to get back here, where did you say you were at again?” Ron asks, and Flip can hear that he’s pulling out a pen and paper from his desk. 

“Mile High Tavern. I spent the night here” Flip responds, and then there’s silence. “Ron? Did you hear me? I said I’m at -- ”

“I heard you, but that’s not possible.” Ron’s voice is shaken, “That bar burned down back in ‘57.” 

All at once, everything stops. 

He blinks, and he’s in the roar of the inferno as he comes into your body.

He blinks again, and the bar is gone entirely. 

Nothing remaining but a patch of scorched earth in its place. 

No neon sign. 

No motorcycles

No single car out front. 

Ron is saying something on the radio, but Flip can’t hear. He is reversing out of there so quickly that he almost misses the flash of something behind him -- almost. Flip looks back in his rearview mirror at the bar and sees something, a shape, a young woman in old fashioned clothing far away, through the trees. 

A hand waves, and Flip knows that whatever you were, you saved him, protected him from the flash flood that killed. You saved him, and he fucked you, and he’s sick to his stomach about that, not sure what was real and what isn’t, not sure of anything anymore except that he wants to find you and do it all over again. 

But he blinks, and you’re gone. 

[callmehopeless]

Kylo Ren stuff: [Comes back on my dash]

Me, years after leaving the ADCU: BE STRONG, PAL. BE STRONG

[mrs-gucci]

Drive-In

{ flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon

Can I please request going to a horror movie drive in with Flip where he hopes the movie will be louder than the noises you both make lol :)

warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), high risk sex (car sex around other people), reverse cowgirl, barebacking, creampie.

word count: 525

★ written for sextember 2023 ★

** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **

collage by me :)

Creepy music plays loudly through the drive-in speakers as the spectators in surrounding cars stare up at the large movie screen, eating their popcorn and drinking their sodas hesitantly, waiting for the impending jump scare.

You and Flip, however, had lost interest in the movie about ten minutes ago. Well, you didn't lose interest, per se. More like you two became much more interested in one another than in the movie.

Lets just say that the gasps and cries from the scared on-screen protagonists aren't the only ones happening at the theater this evening.

Flip grunts as you sink down onto his stiff length repeatedly, hips thrusting up instinctively against you. The truck's windows are starting to really steam up, the air between you two incredibly thick while you ride him.

You're holding tightly onto the grab handle with one hand while the other rests on his hand, the one currently gripping your hip tightly. Your eyes are on the movie and maybe somewhere in your mind you're paying attention to the horrors occurring, but really, it's just pictures on a screen. Your mind is in a whole different place right now.

"S-Shit," you breathe, biting your lip to try and keep the noise down. "Oh god, baby..."

As much as Flip loves this, well, pretty much public sex, he does try to be extra careful since he's law enforcement. He's really hoping the movie's louder than the noises you two are making and the gentle squeaking of his truck's shocks.

He groans softly, cigarette pinched between his teeth, ashes starting to fall off the tip. "Goddamnit, princess...a little faster for me...mhm, that's it..."

You speed up as he requested, resulting in a spike in both your pleasures. Matching noises of pure lust and passion escape from both of your lips.

"Fuck...mm!"

Flip starts thrusting up into you, chasing his rapidly approaching orgasm. The cars around you seem none the wiser and luckily for you two, the windows are not completely steamed over, so all that can really be seen are your silhouettes.

As he fucks you, you take the opportunity to reach down and rub your clit, moaning softly as the pleasure pulses through you. You're close, very close, and getting closer by the second--

"O-Oh fuck," Flip groans as he cums, pushing his cum up into you with rapid thrusts. "Mmm, good girl...shit..."

Feeling him cum is what sends you over the edge, and you continue rubbing yourself through it as the familiar waves of pleasure roll over your body.

Eventually you both come to a stop and Flip pulls out, tucking himself away while you pull your underwear back into place. As soon as you turn around in his lap, Flip has put out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

A thought come to you and you smile against his lips, chuckling softly. He pulls away, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"What is it?"

Your laughter grows a bit. "I told you this was a good movie."

He laughs, shaking his head and giving your ass a nice firm smack.

"You're cute."

****

sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka

if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!

[cas-backwards-tie]

ADCU Masterlist

A/N: Just making a separate masterlist for this because I have a fair number of these and also there's a bunch of different characters!

Kylo Ren

Call Me Kylo | Officer!Reader ↠ You're tasked with getting the Commander's signature to finish your assignment. Unfortunately, you can't find the Commander anywhere.

Correspondence ↠ The Supreme Leader has a lot on his plate, leading him to neglect certain things... like himself, for example.

Nothing But A Monster | Vampire! AU ↠ Forced to accept help from a mysterious stranger, you find yourself in a predicament of sorts.

It’s The Small Things ↠ Kylo finds your optimism odd in place of the First Order.

The Meaning Of Care | Officer!Reader ↠ Kylo Ren takes care of you when you're sick? That's something you never would've seen coming.

Clyde Logan

Pinball & Motels ↠ Roadtrips, A present for Clyde, and the one-bed trope? What more could you ask for?

A Day Off ↠ Clyde finally takes a well-deserved day off.

Flip Zimmerman

Frenzied Rendezvous* ↠ Flip finally has his way with you after enduring your teasing all night long.

Pale

Early Mornings ↠ Pale wakes up to find you making breakfast. It's like you plan on staying or something. Wait... do you plan on staying?

Solo Triplets

A Quiet Night ↠ The boys want to take you out on a proper date.

Ben Solo

Fairytale Mess* ↠ Sleeping with Ben Solo doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you're both under the influence.

Paul Sevier

Extraordinary ↠ Paul attempts to go out and have a social nigh. After everything that's happened... things haven't changed him that much, have they?

Daniel Jones

Late Night Confessions ↠ Dan wakes you up with a drunken phone call.

Multi-Character

headcanons

Breakup Headcanons

[jynzandtonic]

YOURE BACK!! omg for the first time in months i have stuff to catch up on 🥹 do you have any active adam driver accounts to follow?? everyone i follow is either inactive or left and i need more content!! <3

I'M BACK!! I've missed writing and simping and connecting with other Adam peeps on here.

ALRIGHT LET'S DO A ROLL CALL! If you're still on here and posting Adam content drop your blog in the comments and we can get a list going!

[mina-logan]

Kylo

A small Kylo painting in my sketchbook.

I’ll probably never be over it.

[rynwritesstuff]

Into the West - Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: Brief period-accurate shittiness towards women, mentions of blood, brief violence, NSFW, (unprotected) PIV sex, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Based on a request by the magnificent @safarigirlsp! Sheriff Flip and reader have some eye-opening sex after an incident at the saloon, which reader runs.

The sun is setting over the small Western town. There’s a breeze – soft but there nonetheless – and Sheriff Zimmerman’s hair blows gently before he puts his hat back on. His boots dig into the sandy road as he walks along. His head is held high and his gun is holstered at his hip. Women turn to look as he passes by, and he bites back a smile as he chews on his tobacco. 

Horses whinny and neigh, carriage wheels turn, and working men grunt. The sounds of the town are music to Sheriff Zimmerman’s ears. Nothing is awry. Nothing is out of place. Nothing is wrong. He turns the corner, brows furrowing as the bright sunset peers down at him through the clouds. Zimmerman brings a hand up, blocking the light from his view as he continues on down the way. 

“Sheriff?” a voice calls. Zimmerman looks around as quick footsteps approach. The Sheriff smiles, glad to see his good friend, John Bartlett, approaching. He’s a small man with strawberry hair and red cheeks to match. His brows are knit together, but Sheriff Zimmerman hopes that it’s because of the bright sun and not out of concern. “Ah,” Zimmerman says, “John. Evenin’–”

“There’s a tussle in the saloon,” John tells Zimmerman. “The owner, she–”

John is hardly able to get his words out before Sheriff Zimmerman is taking off down the road, hand flying down to his gun. He knows you’re working tonight. Oh, for Christ’s sake, you work every damn night. You work too much, you deal with too many men who wanna play with fire, something was bound to happen at some point, wasn’t it? 

Zimmerman bursts into the saloon, hand still resting on his holstered gun. People’s heads turn. The music isn’t playing, but Zimmerman figures that it hasn’t been for a while. It almost always stops when something starts happening. It’s in people’s nature to wanna hear the goings on, he supposes. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” comes a loud, familiar voice. Your voice. Zimmerman’s eyes widen, and as he surges forward to round the corner, he hears the sound of glass shattering, then stumbling. He turns the corner, and just as he does, a man falls to the ground in front of him. Zimmerman moves back so that the gentleman doesn’t fall on him, then looks up with wild, confused eyes. You stand in front of the floored man, a broken bottle in hand. Your chest, which is accentuated by your corseted dress, rises and falls quickly.

Your eyes meet the Sheriff’s and he steps up to you as everyone in the room goes silent. He says your name, soft and purposeful. You watch as he approaches you. 

“Let me have that,” Zimmerman says, reaching for the jagged bottle top. You move away. He pauses, then says your name again. 

“The fucker came at me,” you say quickly. You gesture to your arm. “He grabbed me right here, right here–”

“If he tries again, I’ll shoot ‘im,” Zimmerman says in that honest tone of his. You know he’s not lying to you like all the other men in this town do. “Give me to bottle, I don’t want you t’cut yourself.”

You exhale softly, then hand it over. Zimmerman looks at the man on the ground. His head is bleeding where you hit him, and he’s groaning softly. He’s covered in beer and broken glass, and you clench your jaw at the sight. He tries to get up, but Zimmerman nudges him back down. He groans. 

“Let him get back up,” you say, adrenaline pumping. “Let him come at me again, I swear I’ll–”

“I’ll take it from here,” Sheriff Zimmerman says firmly, looking back at you. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. His eyes dart down to your hand, the one holding the bottle. You look down too. Blood drips from your hand to the hardwood floor. You didn’t even feel it. You bring your hand up to rest against your chest carefully, letting yourself bleed onto your dress. It’ll come out, you remind yourself. It’ll come right out. 

Zimmerman grabs a pair of cuffs from his belt, then demands that the man on the ground roll onto his stomach. He does so slowly, clearly not wanting to get further hurt by the glass, but the Sheriff doesn’t seem to care all that much about the glass as he leans down and chains the man’s wrists together. He yanks him up to his feet, then starts towards the door. You let out another shaky breath, then look around the saloon. 

“Get back to your drinks,” you say grimly. You turn away as the music starts back up. You throw the bottle top into the trash, then reach for the broom with trembling hands. Your hand. You feel it, now, the sharp, throbbing pain in it, and pause. One of the barkeeps approaches you with a small smile. 

“I’ll get the mess,” she says to you. “Go wash up.”

You nod, then silently move upstairs to your quarters. There’s an angry lump in your throat. The audacity of that man, you think as you start the water in your washroom. The fucking nerve of him to put his hands on me. I should’ve jammed that broken bottle right into his–

You shake your head as you pull some alcohol from the cupboard and unscrew the top. 

“Fuckin’ Zimmerman,” you whisper. You pour the alcohol over the cut, cringing as you do. “I had it all under-control. Everything was under fuckin’ control.”

The sun has almost completely set, now, and when you put your hand beneath the warm running water, you glance out the window at the town you love so dearly. You really do find this town beautiful and full of hope – if only the men would stop treating you like garbage. 

How many times have you had to defend yourself like this? How many times have you had to push back or pull away or tell a man off? What a curse it is to live in a time where men don’t know how to treat a goddamn woman right.

Still, life goes on. The saloon draws in money, enough for you to keep this place open and thriving. You’ve made a name for yourself out here. You know damn-near everyone’s drink orders by heart, you know names and faces, you know the different walks of life your patrons come from. That’s a gift, being able to hold all of it.

But sometimes you’re tired, and tonight is one of those nights. You dry off your hand and wrap it up, not knowing how much time has passed. On your way back downstairs, you hear feet coming up. The footfall is heavy – a man’s. Your heart surges, and you consider turning back, going to get your gun, but it’s pointless when you see who it is. You exhale. 

“You fuckin’ scared me, Zimmerman,” you huff as the Sheriff ascends the steps. He offers you a smile. 

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, ma’am,” he tells you as he continues towards you. 

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” you say, crossing your arms. Zimmerman stops on the step beneath yours, but he’s so tall that you still have to tilt your head to look him in the eye like this. His smile widens. 

“I thought about you all day long, miss.”

The corner of your mouth turns up. You hate how soft he makes you, but you also fucking love it.

“All day? How’s that?”

“Well,” the Sheriff starts, sliding his hands over your hips, “I woke up and thought about you while I washed up. Then, I thought about you while I got dressed, and headed down to the jail, and–”

“Alright, alright,” you say, pushing at his chest. “Enough’a that.”

Zimmerman catches your wrist. His smile fades slightly. 

“Your hand. It’s alright?”

You nod. 

“Just a small cut,” you say. 

“I’m glad you got ‘im before I did,” he says. You sigh. You know what he means. 

“I know,” you say, looking away. Zimmerman squeezes your hips. 

“Lookit me.” You do. “I’m here to give you a good time.”

Somehow, that lump in your throat is back. Are you angry, still? Or is it something else, do you think? You’ve got half a mind to wrap your arms around him and cry. That’s so unlike you. He knows you’re sweet on him, though, and he is, too. He’d probably welcome any crying, any tears you’ve got in you, but you just can’t. 

“A good time. Zimmerman, what–”

“Don’t call me that,” the Sheriff says quietly. It’s a soft request. A prayer. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Flip.”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do to show me a good time, Flip?”

“The same thing I do everytime.”

“No. Give me more than that.”

Flip looks taken aback. His brows furrow slightly. 

“More?”

“That’s right. More. I give all’a myself to this town just to be met with perverts and angry prostitutes and people tryin’ to take down my business, so yes.” You clench your jaw and bring your hands to his cheeks. “I want more.”

Flip glances at your lips, then presses his firmly against them. You sigh, letting your body move forward against his. You pull yourself into him, kissing him back with fervor. 

“I’ll give ya whatever you want, sweetheart,” Flip breathes in-between kisses as you grab onto his collar and tug him up the stairs with you. He goes willingly, and when you reach the top step, Flip pulls you down the hallway to get to your quarters. He turns the handle, and the two of you move inside. He kicks it shut behind him. You unbuckle his belt and toss it aside, letting his gun and other things clatter on the dresser. You unbutton his shirt quickly. 

“Get me out of this dress,” you tell him. He begins to undo it, kissing you again. He lets out a soft grunt against your mouth. He must know that you need this. He must be alright with that. The thought makes you want to weep. 

Flip pulls your dress off and throws it aside, then tugs your shift up over your head, leaving you bare in front of him. You reach down to undo your boots and toss them aside while he shrugs off his shirt. Your body is properly revealed to him when you get your boots off and stand up straight. Flip looks you up and down as you move towards him, and he puts his hands on your cheeks. 

“Prettiest girl in the West,” he says. He kisses you, then, and you never were a religious woman, but this is how you imagine Heaven. If you were to die tonight, you’d die happy and needed. Flip Zimmerman always makes you feel that way. Christ, maybe Heaven isn’t a place, but a feeling. Maybe it’s the way the sunset turns the sky pink and orange. Maybe it’s the way the saloon feels after nine o’clock when the drinks are strong and the music is loud. Or, maybe it’s the way Flip Zimmerman holds your face like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever seen – like you're the only woman around.

Either way, you’re here now, and you have him like this, and anything else happening outside of this room is unimportant. You get on the bed and Flip follows after you eagerly. 

“Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here,” you tell him, leaning back and watching as he undresses. He chuckles softly. 

“You’re mighty bossy tonight.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you tell him. “I’ve got a lot that I want.”

Flip finishes undressing, his cock hard and proud, you see, and you beckon him towards the bed. He gets on top of you easily and nudges himself against your core. You spread your legs further for him, inviting him to press on.

One of your hands moves up to hold onto his hair, and the other hand rests on his shoulder. You lean up and nibble at his jaw as he presses his tip inside of you. You inhale sharply, then let out a satisfied hum. 

“C’mon, Sheriff,” you breathe, “give it to me rough.”

Flip smiles against you, then thrusts the rest of the way in. You gasp again, brows furrowing.  “Oh, right there,” you sigh. “Right there, give me more, Flip.”

Flip draws his hips back, then pushes them forward again. Your body bounces with each fast thrust. His cock hits your sweet spot over and over and over, and your moans get louder each time. Surely they can hear you downstairs, but you don’t care. How could you when you’ve got Flip like this? How could you, when he’s making you feel this fucking good? You tug at his hair. 

“Is this – Mmm – enough?” Flip asks as he fucks you harshly. You tug on his hair again. 

“Yes, it’s enough, Zimmerman. M-Making me sound n-needy . . . Oh, fuck . . .”

“Not needy,” Flip shakes his head. “Just a woman w-who knows what she wants.”

Your grip on him tightens. He gets you. You like to pretend that he doesn’t sometimes, but he truly does. There’s not another man like Flip Zimmerman. You’ll never need another man as badly as you need him. Hot tears spring into your eyes. 

You’ll never love another man the way you love him. 

“I like a man who u-understands,” you breathe. You smile at him as he pounds into you. Your core clenches around his cock, begging him for more, and he obliges without needing to be told. He gets it. Whatever it is, he gets it. You can always count on that. 

You wrap your legs around him as you pull him closer. You hold him against you, keeping his firm body against yours. It almost feels like an embrace, holding him like this. It almost feels perfect. It almost feels like Heaven. 

“Please,” you breathe. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Flip grunts. He’s close. You moan. 

“Mm, please!”

“I’m almost there,” Flip promises. Sweat beads at his hairline as he continues, and you groan. 

“Fuck, fuck . . . Flip!”

You feel him pull out suddenly, and he grunts as he jerks his cock until he’s cumming across your stomach with a moan. His eyes flutter and his cheeks flush. You love seeing him come undone for you. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you look up at him. You tuck a few pieces of hair behind his ears, then smile at him. 

“How was that?” Flip asks. He goes to grab his handkerchief off of the floor, but you stop him. You don’t want him to pull away just yet. You nod, then kiss him again, blissed out from what he gave to you. You moan quietly against his mouth. 

“More than enough, Sheriff.”

Tagging a few friends: @mrs-gucci @babbushka @safarigirlsp

rynwritesstuff, 2025 | Divider by saradika-graphics

[renstardust]

He’s staring.

No, he’s just looking at the jury as a whole. There’s eleven other people sitting with you, why would he be staring at you?

No, wait. He’s definitely staring at you. That’s some deep eye contact.

God, why was the defendant staring at you? You don’t even know him, you’re just doing your legal civilian duties. You didn’t even want to be here at first, you had to miss three days of work for this, but the case was at least interesting enough to keep your attention.

Kylo Ren was charged with more things than you could name off of the top of your head.

And you were playing a role in the decision that slapped him with a guilty verdict.

This man, a total and complete stranger, was going to prison for the rest of his life. A once-very powerful CEO with supposed ties to multiple crime syndicates.

“Mr. Ren.”

The judge called his name for a third time to get his attention, his hard stare finally breaking off of you. You felt a weight on your chest lift that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You would say you were relieved when the trial finally ended and you were dismissed along with your peers, but as the days and weeks followed, you noticed that things started to feel…off.

Mysterious men you didn’t recognize, staring at you across cafes or bookstores you’d often frequent, their phones close to their ears as they spoke too softly to someone for you to hear.

Belongings in your apartment seeming misplaced or looking tampered with.

You knew you weren’t crazy when your extra set of keys went missing from your bedside drawer.

Interesting.

You changed your locks and went out less just to be on the safe side, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Something inside of you knew this was just the beginning.

Especially when it was announced on national television that Kylo Ren’s conviction was suddenly overturned.

[adamsbiscooti]

are you fucking kidding me?

[cndcrd]

ADCU Valentine's Day Cards 💌✨

[a-million-usernames]

Monster Mash

Warnings: Children (Henry) Word Count: 690 As always, you can find this over on AO3.

A large pumpkin rolls heavily in the back of the SUV that takes a turn onto an otherwise deserted, leaf-riddled street of upstate New York. Behind the wheel, Charlie winces. He’s been trapped! Bamboozled! Tricked into coming here at the hands of both his son and you, but most by Henry’s devious manipulation tactics. Who’d have thought a pouty lip and threats of having the worst Halloween ever would be enough to get Charlie to cave?

He cannot recall the last time that he’s gone to a pumpkin patch - if ever - but surely the price he’d paid for the pumpkin that rolls so haphazardly in the trunk was exorbitant. It’s really not that much different than years before, you’d assured him while he griped in the checkout line. But…at least the sheets he and Henry will be wearing have cost him all of nothing. And…

He should be - is - grateful for this opportunity. The last few Halloweens with Henry have been spent in the heat-ridden hell that is Los Angeles. It’s about time he’s come out here to spend it in the falling leaves and rapidly cooling temperatures as the holiday was intended to be enjoyed.

“Are we there yet,” Henry asks from the back seat, his gaze cast outward towards the multi-colored canopy of the trees that pass by.

“Nearly,” says Charlie, his own gaze flitting from the rearview mirror back out onto the road ahead. “Just a few more turns and we’ll be there.”

In spite of all of his complaints, Charlie has gone through great lengths to ensure that this day goes off without a hitch for the three of you. He’s chosen a park, one with great fall foliage and little to no other visitors this time of year; the three of you have your autumnal outfits on and ready for any and all photos to be taken, and there is - of course - the pumpkin to be carved upon your arrival.

And carved it is…

Charlie lets Henry carve most of it, only stepping in to help when asked - helping to sharpen out the teeth and eyes - while you retrieve the sheets and sunglasses from the SUV’s trunk. Together it takes them no time at all to reach their desired outcome and, leaving the pumpkin’s interior on the grass for the wild animals to enjoy, the three of you trek a little deeper into the park to set up for your not so impromptu photoshoot.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Henry exclaims excitedly, reaching for the sheets in your hand.

Setting one set aside, you are quick to help Henry pull the sheet up and over so it drapes properly on him, ensuring that the small eye holes sit as they should, allowing him to see before you hand him the sunglasses to put on. Once both you and Henry are satisfied with the outcome, you turn your attention to the second sheet and drape it over yourself, mirroring his look with your own, soon moving to stand behind him.

Nearby, Charlie is fiddling with his camera, adjusting the angle of it until he’s satisfied before setting the timer to give him ample time to run over to where the two of you stand. As he runs over, pumpkin in hand, you know that he’ll undoubtedly gripe about the remnants of the shredded insides sticking to his hair once he removes it post-shoot. The amusing thought elicits a smile from you beneath the cover of the sheet.

“Ready,” Charlie asks, the question asked prior to him slipping the hollowed out pumpkin over his head, the carved face now looking at the camera.

“Ready!” Henry’s eagerness shines through in his shouted reply, a hand pumping upward towards the sky. Quickly remembering that all extremities must be covered by the sheet, Henry lowers his hand back down to his side just as Charlie settles a hand against your back.

Beneath the coverings of the sheets and the pumpkin, the three of you smile just as the camera fires off a series of photos, capturing the first of many photos the three of you will take today.