#flip zimmerman request | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finn-ray-nal-beads · 4 years ago

Note

I meant to send this here but sent a message instead. Either way 🤣

I know you’re not doing much writing right now, but if you feel inclined to do something anything fucked up for Valentine’s Day with Flip or Captain Blowhole, it could be the sort of fucked up that we all deserve!

Take on Captain Blowhole vs Cupid?!? Like Cpt Hook and Tinker Bell, except Cupid is a full sized ugly ass man with a beer gut like captain Underpants! 🤣

I’m literally writing a fic I’m titling Flip vs Cupid where he has to go arrest a flasher on V Day and has to tackle him down and wrestle around etc

A/N: Holy fuckin’ shit man! The third part in the Siren Series is finally here.... Who the hell am I being so efficient this week! The is the final part and I am so fuckin’ proud of this series I just had the best time writing it out! I hope you all love it and thank you @safarigirlsp for sending in the ask to finish this love fest out!

Warnings: tw: violence, tw: death, tw: assault (we get slapped as well as we slap someone too), degradation, slight edging, unprotected sex, angst, mutual pining, fluff because I love these two so much, misuse of pirate puns and buccaneer banter, smut because we all love some of that cock talk, mentions of a certain ADCU character entering the mix (the tides will tell us)

The night was long and cold, the depths reaching near frigid temperatures as the Jolly Roger trudged on through the beacon. Frost building on either side of the hull, encasing the wood in a tomb of sorts, causing shivers to radiate from the crew as the soft snow fell around them.

“C-Cap,” Ron shuddered at the wheel, his eyelashes coated in snowflakes as he kept Flip’s course steady and true, “you sure we’re goin’ the r-right way,” he shivered rubbing his extended arm to cultivate some heat while he waited for a response.

Flip coughed, a thick fog releasing from his mouth as he glanced up slowly, his inky locks coated in a slick of frost as well.

“It has to be,” he muttered, the vortex of the lights cascading around the entirety of the ship in a tube as the snow kept falling.

He glanced back down, running a quivering finger down the direction of the map, huffing when he noticed the course was tried and true to where his trusty ship was heading.

His chorus of shudders racking his body upon glancing back up at his lethargic crew, the snow and ice impeding them from their usual performances. The track of light fell where the sea met the sky, the eerie silence causing even more confusion as he noticed the pulsing of the colors in the distance.

He wondered if you were at the end of this so-called rainbow. If you would even recall who he was, let alone let you be taken by him again.

The shame settling over him in a veil as he began to worry about your rejection. You were completely out of his league in every aspect, including the fact that you could breathe underwater. What if he had set sail to track you down for nothing? Were you already occupied with another sailor, like a whore? Or was it just not meant to be based on the differences you shared?

Either way, his grouchy ass had to find that out on his own, rules be damned. You had been on his mind every single day since he’d taken you on those golden shores. Your face framed by the sun lived rent-free, your luscious body sand-covered and begging for him, your gorgeous voice echoing his name as a song in his head. It was all intoxicating and he had to hear you again before he burst into flames.

The vortex grew brighter and brighter, the sound of an impending whirlpool approaching with rapid speed in the direction of the ship. The crew jumping from the frigid conditions instantly as the hull rocked from the waves picking up and the amplified light.

“Hold steady boys!” his booming voice echoed through the deck as they scrambled to their stations, little puffs of fog making their way to the illuminated ceiling of the tunnel as they made ready for the next part of the journey.

“Cap?!” Ron frightened slightly as the wheel took on a mind of its own, spinning a fury while the bow dipped into the water vortex, “Cap what do I fuckin’ do?!” the both of them holding on for dear life as they began to spin down into the whirlpool.

“Hold the fuck on!” he gritted out, reaching for any piece of wood around them to ground them to the deck, the sounds of cries and yelps radiating through as the boat hurled towards the blackened center of the pool, a bright wormhole opening to glisten in his pupils as they approached it.

“Holy fuckin’ shit!” Ron cried out, completely scared out of his wits, grabbing onto the same piece of wood as his pal was, “Cap what’s going on?!” screaming at him while he watched Flip fixated on the light.

“I think it’s the entrance,” he spoke almost calmly, his ship barreling into the bright beacon with the littlest efforts, the entire crew stifling the light from their eyes with hands raised as it was sucked inward.

_____________

“Daddy what the hell is going on?!” you huffed into the throne room, your parents perched in their rightful places as you blew a huff of bubbles out in annoyance.

“I was busy,” crossing your arms as your tail spanned below you in a cascade of greens and blues, your hair flowing in the clear water as you scrunched your face.

“Watch your mouth, Y/N,” he commanded, pointing his trident in your direction, the threat causing you to roll your eyes and brush a hand in disgust.

After you had returned from your escapade, the torture had ensued. Your father put more pressure on you to fulfill his wishes of becoming married to the most suitable bachelor in the Seven Seas.

The thought of anyone but your sailor boy making you gag audibly as he showed you suitor after suitor for weeks and weeks, only to find himself more annoyed at your defiance of him.

“The time has come my daughter,” he boomed, your mother smiling uncomfortably at the exchange, gulping loudly before he continued his power trip over your duties as a Princess.

“The time has come for what?” scrunching your eyebrows at him in more annoyance as he smirked devilishly at you.

“For you to meet your betrothed,” he cooed, the bubbles condescendingly falling from his trout mouth as your jaw dropped before him.

You pushed a finger in your ear, making sure to clean it out properly before answering him back, “I’m sorry… my who?!” your eyes bugging out of your head before you could lunge at him in a fury.

“You know exactly what I said,” darkly speaking as he gestured his staff to open the double doors, revealing a merman as they escorted him to the side of your father.

“My sweet daughter,” he pandered, “this… is Matthew… The new future King of the Ocean,” the tall, blonde gentleman smiling as brightly as a guppy while he was doted on by your father. The sight of them nauseating you to no end as you surveyed him.

Arms still crossed over your covered tits, pushing them out slightly as you inched forward to take him in further. He wasn’t completely hideous, you thought to yourself, his face chiseled and handsome. His body was built heavy and stacked, abdominals straining under his scaled skin as you watched him speak in hushed tones to your father. His hair a cascade of golds and yellows, as the curls satisfyingly framed his face. But he wasn’t your sailor.

Your handsome, tall, and dark buccaneer. The one with the chiseled features, thick black locks, and a heavy swinging cock. He wasn’t even close to him, and would never be in your mind.

You looked around while they had their little conference, rudely ignoring your presence as you surveyed the room, wondering if you could make a break for it and go find your love again.

It wouldn’t be too hard, you thought, he wasn’t that elusive in any sense of the word. You knew his ship from stem to stern, having conjured it back from the depths while he laid passed out on the sand that day.

Recalled what his crew looked like, grabbing each of them from the Locker one by one to revive them. It would be as simple as recalling his trails he’d left coupled with your gift of echolocation to find him before he even blinked. You considered it. Biting a lip as you darted panicked eyes between the armed guards at all exits.

“Y/N,” your father cleared his throat, “are you going to introduce yourself to your future King?” he smiled again, extending a hand for yours to come closer.

“I’m so sorry about her,” he gripped your fingers in a death grip, a hiss coming out of your throat as he pulsed them, “she’s kind of spacey… forgive me,” pushing you to collide with his thick body in a thud.

“Ow! Fuck!” pushing him off you in an instant, putting your hands over your tits as they throbbed from the collision.

Another blow to the back of your head via the trident, “watch your whore mouth!” he boomed again, “I am deeply sorry, Matthew,” he smiled fakely again.

“It’s perfectly fine, Your Highness,” he bowed slightly, “I like my women a bit feisty,” the fire burning in his eyes as he glared down at you.

“The challenge of it all is… tantalizing,” taking your hand in his and bending down to lightly kiss it, the disgust fanning over you as his lips touched your scales.

“Y/N,” he cooed beneath you, “it is a pleasure to be in the presence of such… beauty,” the waft of heart-shaped bubbles escaping his lips as he weaved his words.

You pulled your hand, nursing it as you rubbed the spot where his snake-like lips had touched it, feeling utterly violated as your lips formed a pout in his direction.

You contemplated for a moment, going over the positives and negatives as you watched him gaze at you, his handsome features no doubt hiding his true identity underneath. You rustled up to meet his eye line, your eyes becoming slits as you whispered, “You will never be my betrothed,” you menacingly growled, fangs snarling in his direction as you watched the flames blaze from a soft pink in his eyes to a glowing red.

“You disgusting, conniving, snake!” landing a hard slap on his face before a shrill scream left your mother in awe of your actions.

“You little bitch!” he hissed, watching the anger boil over you while your father lit up behind you in a rage.

“How dare you, Y/N!” he boomed again, “you’re going to marry Matthew if it’s my last dying wish!” the tears spilling down your face as you spun around to meet his gaze.

“Make me daddy!” you spat in his face, ready to give him another set of choice words before a huge flash of light interrupted the party.

The whole group turning glances at each other, “did someone open the portal?” your mother putting her hand over her mouth in fear, cowering behind your father in a fit that made you cringe.

“Your Highness, I can go check it out… There’s no reason for you to be put in danger over this,” he bravely puffed his chest out like a pompous jerk, patting the top of your head like a child.

“Stay here my fiery siren,” he spewed, the nickname making you shoot daggers his way as he swam his way out of the balcony. All of you collectively inching out to see a huge bubble encasing a massive ship in the middle of the city.

Gasps of shocked cries ringing out as passerby gazed in wonder at the bubbling orb floating in suspense, seemingly unphased by the fact it was smack dab in the center of a lost city.

You squinted, not looking at your slimy suitor but the boat encased in the waves, cocking your head as it came clearer into your view.

You audibly gasped, the flurry of bubbles and a wave as you placed both hands over your mouth, hoping your parents didn’t notice your surprise.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” your dad placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, “when he gets back you can ask for an apology… I know he’s a man of reason,” smirking down thinking you were worried for his safety.

_________________

“What the fuck?!” Flip scared out of his wits echoed as his voice reverberated along the walls of the water bubble. His crew shouting all kinds of curses as they prayed Hail Mary’s over the devil magic that had brought them to their orbed hell.

He panicked, running from all sides of the ship, rubbing his eyes as he gazed around at the majesty that had cleared around the encasement.

The city was a beacon in the depths of the darkness. The cool blue waters surrounding all sides of him in a tropical paradise littered with all colors of fish, seaweed, glorious statues, and towers, all centered around a glimmering castle.

He gulped when he caught a glance of panicked merfolk, the realization that they were circling he and his crew sending him spiraling as he gleefully smiled at his successful venture.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” he gasped, “Ron… R-Ron we made it,” he panted, begging his buddy to pinch him to see if he was dreaming. It was just as the books had revealed. The mecca in the ocean was lost to all the land dwellers in a mysterious flash. Yet here he was, face to face with a slew of shocked faces gazing at him like they were the fish out of water.

“W-what do we do now, Cap?” Ron tugged at his jacket, Flip frozen in place just like his crew as they deadpanned the scene before them of hoards of merpeople all ages crowding around their forcefield.

“I-I’m not entirely sure,” he quipped back, “I didn’t think we’d actually get this far,” gripping his friend’s hand on his shoulder before shuffling it off of him. He walked towards the starboard bow, coming face to face with a pink-tinged merman.

The tips of his blonde locks a rose color, his chiseled face looking slightly similar in character to him. It was eerie how close their bone structure was, like looking in a mirror but morphed into a blonde wig instead of his trademark black waves. He cocked his face to the side, the handsome face doing a similar gesture as his pink irises came into a clear view. The slits of his pupils boring into Flip’s golden ones as he surveyed his near doppelganger.

He cleared his throat, thinking to speak, and then possibly realizing it may not be heard via the separation between him and the mysterious fish. He squared him up even further, glancing down the expanse of his thick chest, rippling abs, and his stark pink tail, whipping in the waves as he noticed him doing the same thing.

The silent exchange making Flip shiver with unsureness. He had never felt this way. He had stormed a slew of shores in his days, being the young swashbuckler he was, and come across many a menacing buccaneer, and slew them like the stud he was.

But this… was enemy territory… and by enemy, he knew he was number one on the crowd’s list. The foreigner who crashed into town unannounced, and unwelcome, all to search for a woman. Isn’t that how it always goes though?

“What have you come here for, sailor?” the haunting voice of the merman penetrating the wall in a clear, melodious tone, like he was inside with them. The crew shuddering from the sound, begging Flip to look away as if he were Medusa.

He cleared his throat, breaking from the hold his gaze had on him, gripping the sides of his jacket as he spoke, “I’m here to find one of your kind, merman,” his eyebrow cocked as the man looked unimpressed at his response.

“Is that so?” he smirked, his fangs slightly showing as his voice, mesmerized Flip even further, “and who… may I ask, would you be possibly looking for 7,000 leagues under the sea?” the man entertaining his stupidity as he pandered to the captain.

“For your information, fish boy,” he sneered, not loving the condescension in his tone, “I’m looking for a siren…” meeting his menacing stare noses touching the wall of water between them.

“There’s a million sirens in this town, swashbuckler,” he chided, “you’re gonna have to be more specific… or are you too drunk to remember your own name?” the joke producing a fit of giggles from the crowd behind him.

“Sober as a stone, Pinky,” dishing it right back to him, a frown emerging from his lips at the degrading name, “Y/N… That’s her name,” the tone of his voice lowering as he watched the fire boil in the man’s eyes.

“Y/N?” his fists forming as his tinge on his entire body went from a blushed pink to a bright red, turning around to face you on the balcony.

You gulped, waiting for the mess to start as your betrothed beckoned you with a finger to the bubble.

“My darling,” he cooed, the flames boiling over as he tried to keep his composure, “you have a visitor,” gripping your hand in the same as your father had done the time before, a hiss leaving your lips as you flashed your fangs at him.

“You mean, Princess Y/N of the Sevens Seas? My betrothed?” he chanted, the anger completely seething from his teeth as he presented you to the captain.

Your shocked face coming nose to nose with your sailor in a fit of embarrassment as you realized he was dangling you like chum in front of him.

“Sailor?” you gasped, his handsome face becoming more clear as your delicate hands touched the side of the bubble, your magic clearing the path to a thin line to see his precious face gaze at you.

“Y/N?” his heart almost leaping out of his chest as his hands met the spot where yours were on the opposite side, “I thought I wouldn’t ever see your gorgeous face again,” wanting so badly to feel your plush lips on his as you watched his face soften at the sight of you.

“I’m here, Captain,” you quipped, trying to hide your expressions as the grip on the back of your head tightened from your other suitor. The blood boiling in his hands singing your scalp as he listened to you quietly spoke to your true love.

He jerked your body away from the wall, the feeling putting you into whiplash as he threw you back, “how dare you,” he seethed, his eyes glowing even brighter upon seeing you fawn over a human.

“How. Dare. You. Fucking slut!” the explosion of a fireball and a cascade of black bubbles emitting from his head as he blew his top.

“You fucked this garbage didn’t you, whore?!” he angrily pointed at you, your expression telling him everything as you darted glances between him and your sailor boy.

He towered over you, lifting a heavy hand to your face, and slapping you with all the effort he could muster, “answer me you fucking land lover!” the tears spilling as you tried to gulp the words out, your silence doing more to egg on his mood.

“Get your fuckin’ prissy hands off her and fight me like a fuckin’ man!” a booming voice echoed from the bubble, revealing a spent Flip, his jacket and hat torn off in a fury over the show he’d seen.

Matthew turned, steam shooting from his ears as he watched Flip stand his ground on his ship, “You wanna fight you fuckin’ bastard?!” inching to him and morphing himself to a human in a flash, his tinge not changed as he appeared on the deck, fire blazing in between his fingers as he stood toe to toe with the captain.

“Let’s fuckin’ fight,” he calmly huffed, his teeth hissing out heavy breaths as Flip removed his sword from his waist, standing ready to fight.

“Let’s go Pinky!” he gritted, moving to throw the first blow, metal colliding with his fiery fist in a flash of sparks.

The clanging of blows hitting in tandem as they danced across the upper deck of the ship. Flip bobbed every attack he had, same with Matt. The both of them reading each other’s movements like a dance before landing a crushing blow to the merman’s shoulder, the blood spewing out in a wave that splatter all over Flip’s shirt and exposed chest.

“You’re gonna regret that, sailor,” his devilish grin spurring him to attack faster and more agile as he landed an equally hard blow to the buccaneer’s midsection. The fire burning his skin in a sear of pain as he grunted a moan, stumbling back up while Matt chuckled at his victory.

“Had enough?” he pandered, cocking his fiery head to the captain.

“Not even close, fire crotch,” upturning a smirk as he jabbed another blow to his chest this time, the blade piercing in a spray of blood again as a cry rang out through the orb.

You watched in complete terror. Each blow getting more and more deadly as they duked it out.

Soon, Flip was gasping for breath, trying to center himself as he sustained more damage. Matthew noticing him falter under his superiority and making a note as he watched him weakly get back up after the last blow he’d taken to his stomach again.

“What’s the matter sailor?” he chided, loading up another crushing blow as he watched his enemy pant, his weapon falling at his side in exhaustion, “too much rum?” laughing as he landed a crushing blow to the top of his head, knocking Flip out cold underneath him.

He smirked, surveying the crew as they stood back, scared out of their boots. He huffed, walking to the edge to find you, panicked and shocked at the turn of events.

“My sweet love,” he cooed, the fire still burning at a dull roar as he spoke, “you’re going to forget this ever happened… and you will call me your King, just like you’re going to be my slave the rest of your days in this ocean,” his commands cutting you like a knife as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Fuck you!” pounding on the bubble wall in a fit as he maniacally cackled in front of you, “I’ll never be yours, fucking pink bastard!” spitting as it fueled his raged laughs.

“Now, now…” he tsked, running a slick finger to where your forearm was rested on the wall, “I love my women feisty,” cooing again as you writhed in frustration and pain for your sailor.

Your eyes closed shut as you heard his evil cackle ring through your ears, only to look up when it was stifled by a muffle it seemed.

You glanced back up, eyes blurred as you blinked your vision back to see what had happened now.

Flip stood towering over the fireball, his sword logged from his back to poke out his beating heart like a skewer, while his thick hand fell over his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he succumbed to the sweet release of death.

“Heartless mother fucker,” he gritted, driving the sword back out of your betrothed, his limp body crashing to the deck in a thud.

“Flip!” you cried, pawing at the wall when his gaze met yours, his exhausted body breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he cooed, your tears dripping even further as you pined for his touch.

“Flip I-I’m so sorry,” you whined, wishing you had the right words to say in this exact moment, “I shouldn’t have ever… Fuck, I shouldn’t have left home!” beating the bubble again in a fit of self-pity as you watched him wince gripping his side in pain.

“Don’t ever apologize, sugar,” he cooed, the pained smile coming over his face as he limped over to you, “you’re the best adventure I’ve had,” putting a hand to meet yours on the wall again, both foreheads leaning to meet too as you both exhaled in adoration of each other.

“I-I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admitted, his hushed tone so low that only you were able to hear it.

“Neither have I,” you whispered in the same tone, the smiles and fits of laughter falling over the both of you as the tears kept rolling.

“Can ya come with me? I need you… More than I care to admit,” he bashfully shied away, your face curling into pure joy as you realized what he had asked of you.

“You mean… Forever?” biting a lip to hear him beg for you.

“Well I didn’t fuckin’ cross the entire ocean, go down a tunnel of doomed light, swirl into a fuckin’ whirlpool, and fight pinky over here to just ask for one more night of sand sex,” kicking the limp noodle on the ground in a huff.

You laughed out loud, the bubbles leaving your mouth before you placed your finger over it in embarrassment.

You turned to glance at your parents, who, by now, had ventured through the crowd to marvel at the orb, seeing the debauchery unfold in horror.

“Daddy?” you questioned, wincing slightly as you turned around to see your father in complete shock.

“Daddy? I-I,” you couldn’t get the words out before your father wrapped you up in the biggest embrace he had ever given you. Your arms only wrapped around him after you realized what was occurring, the tears now a blubbering mess as you hid in his huge frame.

“Go,” were the words you heard. You looked up, shaking your head from side to side in denial as you wept in front of him.

“Go… have your freedom, my sweet baby girl,” placing a soft hand to your as he dried a tear from your cheek.

“B-but, daddy my duties, I-I,” he shushed you, looking with all of the love he could conjure up.

“Fuck all of that,” a laugh echoing from his lungs, “I want you to have an adventure… go find something worthwhile… and with someone you love… this place will still be here if you want to come back, sweet thing,” the words spilling from his lips causing your jaw to drop open again.

“Daddy, wha-,” wondering if this was all a charade to keep you here with them.

“This lad must truly love you if he trekked across the ocean to find you,” looking to Flip who was registering the conversation before his eyes.

“I think that says more about his character than any of the suitors we had picked for you,” his voice calm and collected as he spoke back to you. The silent exchange of love between you a welcome embrace to the fights you’d been having since you had turned thirteen.

“I-I do love him,” looking back to his boyish smile as he stumbled from the pain on his side again.

“I know you do, sweet siren,” he brushed a hair from your face, “now go… have an adventure I could never have,” pressing his forehead to yours as you both reveled in the peace of the exchange.

You broke your hug, barreling to your mother who had at this point, sobbed the entire ocean over sea level, and gave her the largest hug.

“I’ll be back mommy,” you cried, kissing her forehead as you back away from your family, waving at the crowd of folk surrounding you before morphing into your human form and sucking yourself into the bubble.

You gathered yourself, getting your wet hair back, and shuffling off the water as your soaked nude form came to his view.

“Hey sailor,” you cooed out, shy as you batted those gorgeous lashes his way, your silky body glistening with water droplets for the whole world to see.

“Hey there, my sweet siren,” he panted back, gulping some air as he winced in another round of pain.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, running to his aid, “sailor… You’re hurt,” putting a delicate hand to feel the heat from his abdominals pulsing under him.

“Nah,” he grunted, leaning on your for support as you walked his down to the double doors of the main deck, “I’m tough as they come, sugar, I’ll be fit as a fiddle in a few days,” wincing in pain again with a groan.

The crew had been eyeing your form as your cascaded down the stairs, tits and areolas bouncing, bare cunt flashed unbeknownst as you were more preoccupied with Flip and his health.

You both glanced around, wondering why the guys weren’t preparing to blast out of this popsicle stand. Their jaws gaping as they surveyed your ample curves, Flip’s face inches from a supple tit as he registered reality.

“Mother of fuck!” he got up, the pain in his voice echoed as he stood to cover your body with his, “get hold the sheet and get us the fuck outta here you peepin’ Tom’s!” he bellowed, the boys coming to attention and scrambling with their orders as they were still flustered over your beauty.

Flip pushed you back into the doors, trudging into his quarters with a thud as he landed on his bed. You went right to work, ripping his shirt off, and tending to his wounds while you both felt the ship take off to the surface.

__________________

“You know you never told me you were a Princess,” his gruff voice whispered as the night had set over the sky, his body littered with bandages as you tended to each with the most care.

“Forgive me… The last time we were together it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up,” you quipped back, earning a low hum from his chest to ring out.

“Matty boy was right… You are kinda feisty,” he quoted the smirk over his lips deepening as he watched your face scrunch in disgust over the name.

“If you’re trying to get some tonight, you’re not winning any style points by bringing that snake up,” pressing a little harder on a wound to see him writhe in pain slightly.

“Sorry, sugar,” he chided, “but it’s somewhat true,” he chuckled shying away as you tried to push on another cut to cause him some more pain.

“Such a smooth sailor,” you sang, your lips ghosting his as you drank in his musk.

“That’s what they call me,” he dished right back inching his mouth on yours in a dainty kiss.

The feeling was elating. Your lips connected in tandem as they begged for more, the tongues dancing in your mouths as his hands snaked to grip your bare tits in his thick digits.

A relieved gasp left your chest, followed by a moan when he ran his thumbs over your peaks, the circles to magical as they coaxed you to straddle his lap with a soft grind on his hardened erection.

“I missed these gorgeous tits,” he moaned, moving his lips to your right breast and sucking the life out of it before doing to same to the other.

You fumbled with his pants, pulling his bloomers down in a fervor as his cock sprung to attention, the weeping head falling in the direction of his left-leaning tower. It expanded the length of your thigh, the purple head, begging to be sucked up into your cunt as the precum slid on the inner meat of your leg.

“I missed this cock of yours, captain,” you moaned, your words egging him on as he assaulted your chest with a variety of bites and bruises, hands gripping your ass with all the strength he had in him.

You brought it to your entrance, rubbing the tip on your bud as it slicked up the wetness that had formed over the course of being reunited with your man. The feeling of it tapping your bean sending waves of electricity through your spine, throwing your head back as you sat on him inch by delicious inch.

“M-mother f-fuck,” he grit out, his teeth still encasing a nipple as he bit down on it in pleasure, “this fucking cunt,” his breath coming in hot and heavy as he watched your face fill with bliss.

“There’s nothin’ like this perfect pussy of yours,” he panted out, your grinding on his pelvis spurring his dirty mouth to spill out obscenities.

He bucked up into you, meeting your cervix with every push as he watched you edge yourself over him.

“You like your shores stormed, huh, siren,” he grunted, feeling your walls flutter around him as you fucked yourself into your release.

“I fuckin’ love this mast of yours,” echoing back as you rode out your orgasm, the feeling of his pubic hair and his tip knocking your spot a magical combination as you clenched around him in a death grip.

“That’s my good girl,” he groaned out, the overwhelming feeling over your luscious cunt spilling all over him sending him into overdrive as he stilled your hips.

He spilled his swimmers deep into you, the endless waves of white coating your sandy beach in a glaze as he finished his motions under you. You fucked faces gasping for air as you both came down from the high of the night.

You collapsed on him, making sure to avoid his wounds as he kept a steady arm around you. Petting his chest as you felt a gush of spend escape your full cunt.

“I’m never gonna lose you again, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your head as he nuzzled you closer to him. Your leg wrapped around him in a koala as you both closed your eyes in bliss.

“Trust me, sailor,” you cooed back, letting out a heavy sigh, “I’m not goin’ anywhere now,” slowly drifting off to the sounds of his cold heart beating in your ears.

____________

HOLY MOLEY I FINISHED A SERIES FINALLY I AM SO EXCITED! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS WHALE COCK OF A TALE!

taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @mrs-zimmerman, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole, @xxcatrenxx, @paper-n-ashes

LMK if ya would like to be added to the list! All of the love!

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman request #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip x reader #flip x you #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fluff #500 follower celebration #valentines week #siren series

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babbushka · 6 months ago

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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.

#flip zimmerman #adam driver #adcu #adam driver fanfic #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman x reader #summerween 2024 event

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mrs-gucci · 1 year ago

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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!

#mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci's sextember #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #adcu community #adcu fic #adam driver smut #adcu smut #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x female reader

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rynwritesstuff · 6 days ago

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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

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x y/n #flip zimmerman smut #wester flip #western flip zimmerman #sheriff flip #sheriff flip zimmerman #old west AU #adam driver fanfiction #my writing

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