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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Creep

Summary: You sneak out of the house to go on a midnight supply run, which inadvertently sends Ari into panic mode.

Warnings: Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Periods, Discussions of PTSD, Harassment, Slight Manhandling, Light D/s Overtones, Ass Slapping, Punishments (mentioned), Handcuffs (mentioned), Hair Pulling, Fun in the Shower, Discussions of Religion, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt suggested by my darling @writer84. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s House – 11:47pm

You stare down at the crumpled piece of toilet tissue in your hand. Of all the nights Aunt Flow could’ve picked to come calling, she’d chosen the only night you’d decided to sleepover at Ari’s place this week. Which sucked because you were also completely unprepared since it had arrived ahead of schedule.

Fuck! Sometimes you really did have the most awful luck.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you quickly pull up your shorts and flush before washing your hands and heading back towards your man’s bedroom. After racking your brain, you were pretty sure that you didn’t have a spare in your glovebox either.

Which meant that you would need to make a special trip to the store. At this point, it was either that or sleeping on a towel. And the last thing you wanted to do was ruin one of Ari’s towels or, worse yet, his sheets.

Mind made up, you quietly gather up your things so as not to disturb your slumbering lawman before going off in search of your flip flops. Feeling uncomfortable walking out in just a tank top that you normally reserved for sleeping, you decide to help yourself to one of your man’s freshly laundered t-shirts he’d left folded on the counter.

Smiling, you slip it over your head and then you grab a random piece of scratch paper and pen so that you can leave your overprotective bounty hunter a brief note. In a few words, you let him know that you were leaving for the night and that you’d call him in the morning.

Once that’s done you grab your phone off the charger, as well as your purse and keys, before exiting through the front door and then locking it behind you. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Ari because of your carelessness.

You hustle to your car, engaging the locks the moment you climb inside. From there, you waste almost no time turning on the vehicle and putting it in reverse before slowly backing out of the driveway.

Hopefully you hadn’t woken Ari. Because even if the man did manage to drive you up the wall from time to time, it didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a good night’s sleep. Which was why you were so hell bent on not bothering him with any of this.

Sure, he’d probably grump and growl about it tomorrow. But he’d get over it eventually, especially once he realized that he hadn’t signed up to deal with you while you danced with the red devil in your belly.

At just after midnight you knew your only option for your late night supply run was going to be Wilson’s Drugmart. While you usually preferred to do all your shopping at Herb & Twine, they weren’t open late. Not even on the weekends.

So, while Wilson’s wasn’t ideal, it would simply have to do. Your hands clench around the steering wheel as you find yourself questioning your decision to just up and leave without waking Ari. If you were being honest, you probably should’ve at least had the decency to say goodbye.

Biting your lip, you make a mental note to apologize to the gruff bounty hunter first thing in the morning. Maybe you'd even stop by Stella’s Coffee House to pick up some breakfast for you both. Assuming you could manage to haul your ass out of bed early enough to catch your man before he hit the road.

Yep. That was officially the plan. A carefully worded apology with a side of fresh baked apple strudel and a cup of coffee.

It’s not long before you finally find yourself pulling into the convenience store’s parking lot, which is virtually empty. This doesn’t come as much of a surprise, however, especially since the hour was growing increasingly late.

The way you saw it, being the only one in the store had its perks. It meant that you’d be able to get in and get out with minimal hassle. Which was exactly what you’d been hoping for.

Shutting off your car, you sling your purse over your shoulder before stepping out into the warm summer night once again. You hustle across the lot all the while battling a particularly persistent swarm of gnats.

“Gross!” You hiss, praying that none of them got stuck in your curls. Otherwise you were liable to have a fit.

As you reach the double doors, you notice an old, withered man sitting off to the side. His head is bowed as he rocks back and forth from his perch on the concrete, his faded green coat looking oddly out of place due to the season.

He looks up as you pass by, muttering something that you can’t quite make out. Not wanting to be rude, you offer him a smile. And when he holds out a dirty cup, you find yourself feeling compelled to dig some spare change out of your purse and hand it over.

His eyes narrow at the clinking of the coins, but he doesn’t say anything. Which you take as your cue to continue on with your plans to locate some tampons and then get your butt home.

You welcome the blast of air conditioning that hits you the moment you step into the store.

You spend a minute or two looking around for an associate, but when your search comes up empty, you decide you’d rather go it alone insteading of wasting any more time. All you had to do was scan the aisles until you found the section that housed their selection of feminine products.

As you make your way around you can’t help but hum along to James Taylor’s version of “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)”. The lyrics made you think of the man you’d left behind a few miles down the road. More often than not, being with him tended to conjure up all kinds of confusing emotions.

But for some reason you simply couldn’t get enough of him. It was actually starting to become a bit of a problem.

Hanging a left you finally find the aisle you need. You were almost at the finish line. Just a couple more minutes and you’d be headed home. To your pleasant surprise, you’re thrilled to see that they’ve actually got quite a few options to choose from.

You allow yourself to stand there for a few minutes as you debate over whether or not to stick with your tried and true brand or try their competitor. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice that someone has joined you in the aisle until you hear them speak.

“Jezebel.”

“Excuse me?” You reply, turning your head in the direction of the voice. The last person you expect to see is the homeless man who’d been loitering outside.

What the hell was he doing in this aisle? Surely he’d be better off scraping together what little change he’d managed to collect in favor of buying himself a sandwich. Maybe he didn’t have enough so he came to ask you for more.

If that was the case, then you’d be more than happy to purchase it for him when you paid for the rest of your items.

You open up your mouth to make him an offer, only to be cut off when he speaks again. “I know what you are. I might be old, but I’m not easily fooled.” He points a bony finger in your direction. “I can smell you.”

“Oookay.” You mumble under your breath before quickly returning your attention to the rows of tampons and pads. While you were confident that you smelled just fine, you were now officially anxious to get your shit and get out.

“You go by many names.” He continues, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Many. Many. Many names. I’m familiar with them all.” He takes a step towards you, his unfocused eyes filled with an emotion you don’t quite recognize.

But you can certainly tell that it isn’t friendly. Time to get far away from this creep.

“Pretty sure I’ve just got the one though.” Sensing that you’ve run out of time you decide to snag a couple boxes of your preferred brand and keep it moving. You’d try the other guys next time. Right now, what mattered was putting some distance between yourself and this would-be dollar store prophet. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shakes his head “no” as he takes another step. “They call you Jezebel. Delilah. Herodia. Athaliah. I recognize you as a direct descendant of Eve. The Mother of all that is evil.”

“Nope. That is definitely not me.” Spinning on your heel, you go to exit the aisle. Only to stop short when you realize your path is blocked by a stack of boxes that were in the process of being stocked.

Shit! Why hadn’t your dumbass been paying better attention?

“Your beauty betrays you. It’s impossible to hide the stench of the impure. Of the unclean.”

Duly noted.

“You tried to tempt me outside. Tempt me with 30 pieces of silver!” His voice rises with each word. And coincidentally, so does your blood pressure. “But I am no Judas, you witch. And I will not betray my Lord and Master!” He dumps his cup of change onto the ground, making you jump back as coins go scattering this way and that.

Okey dokey, pal. Time to get lost.

“Look, I didn’t mean any harm earlier.” Your gaze strays to the pile of boxes in your way. Maybe you could throw one if you had to. Perhaps you could scare him into leaving you alone. “I–I wasn’t trying to, uh, tempt you. I was trying to help you, that’s all.”

Alright, new plan. You’d scream your head off while assaulting him with pads and tampons until help arrived.

“Lies. All honeyed lies of my enemy. I will not fall prey to your charms, Delilah. I am not as weak as my brother Samson!” His mottled face appears to be almost vibrating with rage.

But thankfully, just as you’re about to scream for your life, a Wilson’s employee appears holding a walkie talkie as well as something that looks akin to pepper spray. You’re so grateful you could kiss him. Although you’d settle for throwing a $20 bill at him and dashing out the store.

And he could keep the fucking change.

“Everything okay here, Ma’am?” The associate is young, possibly in his early to mid-twenties. But his body is packed with lean muscle which hopefully signals that he could handle himself should a skirmish happen ensue.

He moves to insert himself between you and the assumed threat. And even though he’s talking to you his eyes remain trained to the man in your path.

“Be careful. Don’t you see?” The disheveled vagrant goes to grab the worker’s arm, attempting to pull him closer to his own body and away from you. This time, the clerk has the sense to appear just as unsettled as you feel. “When a woman has a discharge and it is of blood, she shall continue in her menstrual impurity for seven days; and whoever touches her shall be unclean.” His wide eyes glimmer as he speaks, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. “Leviticus 15:19. She taints this space just by existing within it.”

“Right.” You mumble, taking a hesitant step back while maintaining your grip on your box of tampons. “I–In that case, I think I’m ready to check out now. Please.” You feel yourself beginning to sweat as you watch the clerk attempt to dislodge the disturbed man’s grasp.

“Go on, Ma’am. I’ll meet you at the front.” He grunts as he breaks free, shoving the older man backwards. “Just need a moment to have a word with our good buddy, Julius, here.”

“See? She’s already corrupting you, young man. Using her wicked femininity to seduce you as Eve did Adam. Soon she’ll have you worshiping at the shrine of Baal and then…”

You don’t bother sticking around to hear the rest. While it had been a long time since you’d been in Sunday school, it didn’t take a theological scholar to deduce that all of those names he’d mentioned had come straight from the darkest chapters of the Bible. And you were pretty damn sure that none of those women were known for their charming wit or sparkling personality.

Oh well. Guess you’d have to chalk it up to another Thursday night in the town of Bell’s Creek.

After a few moments, another associate comes from somewhere in the back to ring you out. You don’t say much, instead offering a strained smile as he proceeds to quickly bag the tampons as well as a couple of chocolate bars.

You all but snatch the receipt before concluding that it probably wouldn’t hurt to request an escort to your car. So you do. Which does absolute wonders for your anxiety. And it’s only once you’re safely back in your vehicle do you finally allow yourself to let out the breath you’d been holding.

You peel out the lot a few seconds later, your body remaining tense behind the wheel for what feels like much of the entire drive. All fifteen minutes of it.

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Relief fills you when you finally spy your house coming up in the distance. However, your celebration proves to be short-lived when you notice a familiar black Nissan Titan parked on the street out front.

Fuck! What the hell was Ari doing here at this hour?

You throw your car in park and kill the engine. You even manage to undo the belt before Ari opens the door and drags you out of the seat and into his arms, leaving you momentarily speechless

“God, I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, the sound of his voice partially muffled by your curls. “So sorry.” One of his large hands begins rubbing soothing circles along your back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?”

Seriously. Nothing about tonight was going the way you thought it would. Perhaps Mercury was in retrograde or something. That was a thing…right?

“What happened?” Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “What’d I do?” He pulls away after a beat, holding you at arms length so that he can look you over, his worried blue eyes scanning your body from head to toe. “D–did I say something?” He swallows thickly as his hands drop to his sides. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Sensing your bounty hunter was in distress, you reach up to cup his bearded cheek, smoothing your thumb along his ticking jaw. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Instead of responding, Ari continues to stare blankly ahead. His gaze trained on some unknown point just behind you. Rising on your toes, you place your other hand on his face, willing him to look at you. But for some reason he still refuses to meet your eyes.

“What makes you think you hurt me?” You try, keeping your tone light as you attempt to coax some answers out of him. “Talk to me, Beast.” You’d already had your fill of cryptic and crazy for the night.

“Woke up and you were gone.” Comes his quiet rasp, his voice sounding hollow. “Bed was cold. Empty. Got nothing when I called your phone.”

You wince when you recall that the damned thing was probably on silent. But even still, there was something about all this that just wasn’t making any sense.

“Okay…” Although you’re quick to point out that you left him a note, he’s just as quick to brush it off. Almost as if he’s not actually hearing you. “But that doesn’t explain why you thought you might’ve hurt me.”

There was an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Did two tours in Afghanistan a while back. I’m man enough to admit I came back a little fucked up. The nightmares have been quiet lately but, uh –” He cuts himself off before taking a deep breath. “But sometimes I say things. An ex said I used to cry. Mostly.” He takes another shuddering breath. “Except one time when I…”

“When you what?” Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip as you wait for him to get on with it. But you refuse to rush him, your own impatience be damned.

“I woke up screaming. Except it was like I couldn’t leave the dream behind. For a moment I was…back there and…and I shoved my ex hard enough to send her crashing onto the bedroom floor. Left her with a pretty gnarly bruise.”

“Jesus Christ.” You didn’t know what else to say. Clearly whatever had taken place that night had left a mark on the man who stood before you today.

No wonder he looked so…haunted.

“We parted ways soon after that. Said I was too unpredictable. That she was afraid I might hurt her even worse next time.” He finishes with a shrug, looking more lost than perhaps he actually cared to admit.

“That’s not – it was an accident, honey.” You mean every word, all the while wishing you could do more to get him to understand that he hadn’t done anything wrong tonight. Or any other night for that matter.

Had you known the way things were going to unfold this evening, you would’ve woken him up and told him about your plans. You would’ve let him see that you were okay. Made sure he was fully conscious when you said goodbye.

But instead you’d gone and crept out of his house like a thief in the night.

Again, your gentle giant shakes his head. “But she was right though, Bird. So, I got myself a counselor for a time. Thought maybe I’d win her back, or at the very least prove to myself that I was stable enough to deserve another chance. If not with her, then maybe with somebody else.”

Someone like you. The unspoken words hang in the air, buzzing around your head like an overzealous bumblebee.

“And did it help?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth, you find yourself swiftly rephrasing so that he doesn’t think you’re asking about his former lover. “The therapy, I mean.”

“Some.” In truth, he hadn’t had a single night terror since he’d met you. But at the time he’d been too afraid to question anything. “Hasn’t happened in a while.” However, he also wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences either.

“Progress is progress, Ari. If you say it helped, then I believe it did.” You move to grab one of his hands with both of yours. “But I promise you didn’t hurt me.” You bring your clasped hands up to your lips for a kiss. “And I’m so sorry I worried you tonight.”

All you receive is a grunt for your trouble. Which lets you know that he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you left. Snuck out in the middle of the goddamned night without so much as a goodbye.” His free hand comes up to lightly grip the back of your neck, hauling you forward. “You’ve never done that. In all the time we’ve been building whatever the fuck this is, you’ve never pulled that shit. Which means something happened. So forgive me if I don’t readily believe the sweet lies coming out of your pretty little mouth.”

Little did he know that he was actually the second man to accuse you of being a liar in the span of less than thirty minutes. One was a lover, and the other, a creep. You were certainly racking ‘em up tonight.

Unsure of what else to say – and not wanting to risk upsetting him further – you decide to go with the truth and let the chips fall where they may.

“I…I got my period.” You tell him, wincing as the words spill out. “It came a couple days early.” Now it’s your turn to offer up your own lame shrug, all the while still holding his hand. “I didn’t notice until after you fell asleep and I didn’t have my stuff with me…”

You watch as his eyes narrow, his brain working overtime to make sense of the story you’re telling him. Quite honestly, you felt horrible that the man had spent even a minute thinking he had caused you harm when, in all reality, you’d just dipped out to go on an embarrassing supply run.

“Bullshit.” He scoffs as he rocks back on his heels, effectively dislodging your grip.

“I–I’m serious, Ari.” Wanting to prove you were telling the truth, you reach inside the car to procure the plastic bag that contained your goodies. “I mean I’m usually better prepared, but for once I didn’t have anything with me, so I had to run out and buy some tampons. Which turned out to be a literal flipping nightmare. But once I was done, I figured I’d head on home.”

“Is that right?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. And that’s when you notice that tick in his jaw is back. “Just like that?”

Why did you all of the sudden get the feeling that you’d fucked up?

“Well, I didn’t think it would be overly kind of me to risk your sheets like that.” You press on as he snatches the bag from you and peers inside. “And not only that, but I also figured you probably wouldn’t be up for dealing with me during my time, so I–”

“So you just waltzed the fuck out my front door in the middle of the night?” There’s no mistaking the dangerous edge in his tone and your casual admission of being on your period does nothing to satisfy him.

“I left you a note, honey.”

“Fuck your note!” Ari all but snarls, scrubbing a hand over his beard. “I grew up with sisters. I don’t give a shit about you being on the rag.” He tosses the bag back at you. “It ain’t nothin’ but a little blood, baby. It’s not like you’ve got the goddamned plague.”

“There’s no need to be crass.” You mutter, lightly rubbing your hands up and down your arms. “Although I take your meaning well enough. I suppose I shouldn’t have run out like that. But if you were in my shoes you might’ve done the same.”

“Bird.” Your tall bounty hunter huffs before taking a step towards you. It’s followed by another. And then another. Until he has you almost pinned against the side of your car. “I’m gonna tell you something. And I really want you to hear me when I do. So, you let me know when you’ve got your listening ears on, alright?”

A hand fists its way into your curls, wrenching your head back just enough so that you can look into his eyes. Right now, your man required your full attention. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d make sure he got it.

“I…I’m listening.” Your spine stiffens as your breasts heave.

“Good. Because the way I see it, you and me…we’re building something here.” He leans in to brush his lips over yours. Once. Twice. “Which means I care about you. Your wants, your needs. Whether you had a good day or a bad one. What you had for lunch, right along with what you’re thinking about for dinner. I wanna be the one who loves you to sleep. And if I can’t be there in person, then I at least wanna be the last voice you hear before you drift off at night.”

The bag you’ve been holding drops to the ground in a forgotten heap as your hands fly to his chest. You grip the front of his shirt, your legs turning into jelly. But Ari doesn’t mind. He’s determined to finish what he’s started here.

“I wanna be the guy who takes care of you. Not just because you need it, sweetheart. But because you deserve it. Which means that from here on out, your solo midnight tampon runs are officially a thing of the past.” Ari releases your hair in favor of grasping your chin, dragging the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Ari…” You breathe as your eyes flutter closed.

“I wanna keep exploring what’s between us, little Bird. So in the meantime, as your man, I’m asking you not to fly away on me.”

“I–I’m right here.” You assure him as you move to loop your arms around his neck so that you can bring him down to your level. “I won’t…I won’t fly away on you again.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs before allowing his forehead to rest against your own, nuzzling your nose with his. You only break apart when a nearby porch light comes on.

Apparently you’d woken Ms. Evelyn. The last thing the two of you needed was an audience, especially with your nosy nextdoor neighbor. It’s clear Ari agrees with you as he bends down to pick up the fallen bag before motioning you in the direction of the house.

Guess it was finally time to take the party inside.

“You, uh…” You begin as you busy yourself with fishing your keys out of your purse. “Are you coming in? Wait. Dumb question. I meant to ask whether you were intending to stay the night.”

“I reckon so.” Ari grunts as he brings up the rear. He keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings as you unlock the front door. “Especially since you and I still have a few more things to sort out.” You know without requiring further explanation that your man’s not asking so much as he is telling.

“If you say so. But can we maybe table it until after my shower?” You toe off your shoes and leave them by the door, satisfied when Ari follows suit. “If it were any other time I’d ask if you wanted to join.” You pull your t-shirt over your head as you walk farther into the house before draping it over the arm of your couch. “But given the circumstances it’s probably best if I wash up alone.”

By the time you reach the bedroom you’re already undoing the zipper on your shorts. Ari is hot on your heels of course. And when you finally spare him a glance you see he’s sporting a pretty heavy frown.

“And what circumstances might those be?” He growls, cocking his hip against your dresser.

“Um. Could’ve sworn we just established that I started my period, big guy.” You toss him a playfully exasperated look over your shoulder. Only to be taken aback by the seriousness written all over his features. “I mean, surely you wouldn’t want to…” You trail off, confused by the bounty hunter’s renewed wave of annoyance.

“What?” Ari snaps, running an agitated hand through his hair. “What else have you decided on my behalf, Duchess? I love learning about myself like this.”

Oof. You really weren’t a fan of that tone he was using. Apparently you’d somehow gone and pricked his temper once again.

“I just meant…” You lose your train of thought as you watch him remove a pair of what looks a lot like handcuffs from his back pocket. “W–what do you plan on doing with those?”

“Not a damn thing.” Ari huffs before removing his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Unless you plan on leaving me to wake up alone all over again. Because if that’s the case we can start thinking of ‘em as an insurance policy.” And while he chuckles, you don’t believe he’s joking for a second.

“I already told you I’m not gonna run. If you’re really that damn paranoid you can wait outside the bathroom door.” You slide your shorts down your legs before kicking them into the corner. As far as you were concerned you’d worry about cleaning up later.

“I’ll do you one better, sweetness.” Comes your man’s answering grunt. He suddenly lunges forward without warning, throwing you over his shoulder before striding off in the direction of the shower. “My nerves are shot thanks to you. So we’re simply gonna shower together and call it a day.”

He delivers a sharp blow to your ass, delighting in your responding growl. In fact he’s glad you’re frustrated. Because so was he.

“Put me down you Beast!” You cry, snagging the box of tampons on your way out of the room.

“In a minute.” He gifts you with another smack.

Once you reach the bathroom he finally sets you back on the floor. In a flash, he tears panties from your body. “Add it to my tab, baby.” Is all he says when he notices your pursed lips.

“You owe me a trip to Victoria’s Secret, cowboy.” You sniff, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Your Beast has already made a significant dent in the size of your underwear drawer. Which meant he owed you a shopping spree. And he was going to pay up before you were forced to do something drastic and uncomfortable like going commando.

“Can’t wait.”

An indulgent smile flits across Ari’s lips as he helps you inside the shower before joining you. You shiver when he gives you his back so that he can adjust the temperature of the water. You take a moment to drink him in, marveling at the sight of his sinewy muscles moving and bunching beneath his smooth, lightly freckled skin.

Once he’s got it just how he knows you like it he turns around to reach for a cloth as well as your favorite body wash. “You still okay with letting me take care of you, sweet Bird?” He asks while he lathers up, his patient smile easing your own nerves.

You give him a silent nod. But even as you do, you find yourself feeling shy when Ari beckons you closer. How could you not be? This was all brand new territory for you. And now that you found yourself sharing a shower with your strapping beast of a man, it made for tight quarters.

“Relax for me, sweetheart.” He purrs as he pulls you under the warm spray before dragging the soapy cloth down between the valley of your breasts. “I got you.”

A tiny whimper escapes as he takes his time lavishing attention on your chest, teasing each of your pebbled nipples as he does. And then he dips lower, trailing the suds down your belly. Again he takes his time doting on you. There would be no rushing things tonight.

In Ari’s mind, this was your punishment for sneaking out the way you had. Your punishment for making him feel things he never thought he would again. Your punishment for making him fall in love with you.

And while he couldn’t give you those words tonight, he knew without a doubt he was capable of loving you soft and sweet. He was going to earn you. Prove to you that he was deserving of your trust.

Of you.

Because tonight he knew without a doubt that he wanted to keep you for good. Now, all he had to do was convince you to allow yourself to be kept. His beautifully stubborn little Bird. He couldn’t possibly allow you to fly away from him again.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby.” Ari rasps as he pulls you flush against his big body so that he can wash your back, scrubbing the cloth across the blades of your shoulders and then along the curve of your spine. “It’s like you don’t even see it. But I do. I see all of it. And I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that I want it all for myself.”

You rise on your toes when he reaches the globes of your ass. He continues gentle ministrations without fail, only pausing to give into temptation long enough to squeeze your cheeks with both hands.

“I–you’re very sweet, Ari.” Comes your unsure reply. Your man had quite a knack getting you off balance.

“If you let me, I’ll make it my mission to tell you every day. Remind you how I feel about all these delectable curves.” Ari offers you a warm smile as he drops you to his knees right there in the shower, eliciting a surprised sound from you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your fingers sinking into the damp strands of his chestnut brown hair.

“Worshiping you.” He responds without missing a beat. “The way you deserve.” And then he begins to wash your feet, gently working his way up along your calves before moving even higher, stopping just short of the delicate juncture between your thighs. “And I want you to let me.”

“There isn’t a single part of you that I don’t cherish, down to the very marks that adorn your hips.” He trails the pads of his thumbs across your skin as he marvels at the faint stripes. “I can’t wait to learn all of you.”

Tears blur your vision as his quiet plea resounds in your head. Because you couldn’t ever recall a time where someone had treated you with so much care or tenderness. It’s enough to overwhelm you, but at the same time, you also can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop.

“Swear to God, you have the most divine pussy, baby.” Your eyes meet as he presses the cloth against your core. Not a word is spoken as he tends to his task of washing you. And when he’s finished, he bestows a reverent kiss on your mound before rising to his feet once again.

“See?” Ari murmurs, holding the lightly soiled rag under the water before ringing it out so that you can watch the pink rivulets go down the drain. “Ain’t nothing but a little bit of blood. That’s literally all it is.”

Now it’s your turn to smile as you reach for another cloth. You wet it under the spray you then reach for your body wash, squirting a generous amount on the fabric before sudsing it up.

“My turn, please.” You whisper, placing it against his hard chest. “I wanna…” You force yourself to pause, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat. “You matter to me too.”

Ari’s vibrant blue eyes shine with emotion as he opens his arms to you, effectively giving you permission to do as you wish. Which is something you take full advantage of, regardless of your trembling hands.

By the time you’re through, your bounty hunter is both squeaky clean and also painfully hard. However, he makes no move to remedy the situation. In fact, he even playfully swats you away the moment your attentions become a little too much for him to handle.

You didn’t know it, but tonight Ari wanted to show you that he was capable of intimacy outside the realm of sex. Even if it left him with the worst case of blue balls he’s experienced in recent memory.

“Not tonight, Bird.” Comes his gentle purr. “Aw, don’t pout now. I want to, believe me. But it can wait.” He places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips before shutting off the water. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he leans out of the shower to hand you a towel before finding one for himself.

“Thank you.” With that, you’re back to feeling shy again.

After patting himself dry, he drapes the towel across his shoulders. “I’ll leave you to take care of your feminine business.” And then he saunters out the room, gifting you with a nice long look at his shapely ass.

Damn Ari Levinson was one handsome hunk of man.

“Quit staring and hurry up already. The longer I’m left alone, the stronger the urge to make use of my cuffs.”

And with that, the spell is broken. Argh! Him and those damned things. You already knew he traveled with two pairs. If he kept this shit up you were liable to swipe one of them for when your oversized menace finally managed to push you too far. But for now, you’d settle for handling your so-called “feminine business” so that you could rejoin your man in your bedroom.

A few minutes later, you find Ari lounging on your bed. You also notice that he has laid out a pair of panties, sleep shorts, and a cami for you as well. His thoughtfulness is enough to leave you feeling warm and tingly all over as you hastily dress.

“Come to bed, Bird.” Your bounty hunter holds out his hand, beckoning you forward with his outstretched palm. “You’ve deprived me of your sweet body for long enough.”

“Yes Sir.” That makes you giggle even as your cheeks heat. Ari just had this way about him. He was so good at making you feel wanted. Cherished. Desired. Loved.

Loved? Oh God. Is that what this was? Is this what it felt like to actually be in love?

Deciding you’d be better off sorting through those confusing emotions in private, you climb into bed with Ari. Frankly, you’d had enough excitement for one night. You’d much rather spend the remainder of the evening curled up in the arms of this beautifully complex man.

Only once he’s got you settled on top of him does he finally relax. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” Of course you already knew what he would say, but his typical response always seemed to give you butterflies when you heard it. And tonight was no exception.

“You ain’t nothing but a feather, little Bird.”

Feeling content, the two of you allow yourselves to fall into a comfortable silence that’s only broken by the occasional whispered caress of his lips along your brow.

“Ari?”

“Hm?” He grunts, his deep voice growing heavy with sleep.

“Maybe…would you mind if I kept a few things at your place?” You ask once you’ve gathered up your nerve. “Nothing too crazy. Just some clothes. And maybe an emergency stash of tampons.” You offer him a cheeky grin, loving the warmth and affection you see in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“Baby, I already memorized the details on the box sitting on the vanity. You’ll have a new supply of the brand you like under my sink by sundown tomorrow, okay?”

He hoped to God that your preferred brand had a variety pack. But if not, he’d play it safe and buy his girl a box in every size.

“I can buy them if –”

“If what?” Ari playfully interrupts as his hand wanders down to grab a chunk of your ass. “If I decide I’m not secure enough in my masculinity to purchase a box of tampons on my own? Nah. I’ll be fine, you just worry about packing a bag to leave at my place and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Well…” You brush your lips across his pec. “If you’re sure.” You snuggle even deeper into his chest, draping a leg over his hips. “Good night, my handsome Beast.”

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful Bird.”

Eventually you doze off with James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)” playing on loop in your mind. But you decide not to question it. You’d deal with the man who was currently creeping his way into your heart first thing in the morning…

And not a moment before.

END

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corpsedessert · 1 month

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Lawmane Headcanons! ( soft, SFW )🍰🍓

1. Misa regularly does skincare and facials. 100% she loves taking care of herself. Misa definitely buys face masks for herself and L for their date nights. (They'd definitely watch the notebook (2004) together.) Misa would probably cry at the end and L definitely gave her candy to comfort her! 🍓

2. At the beginning of their relationship misa felt frustrated over L's sleeping habits but eventually got used to it after a week, (lol) misa attempted to sleep on the floor next to him but just couldn't. She has also tried to stay up at least a few times but passed out half an hour later. 🍓

3. I think L likes to lay his head on misa's lap from time to time, but he'd get overstimulated by how warm their bodies feel pressed together. L moves off her lap like twenty minutes later lolol~ 🍓

4. Misa and L definitely paint each other's nails while in their pajamas. One time L got some nail polish on misa's carpet and she scolded him (because he wasn't careful) for five minutes. Then apologize to him two minutes later 🍓

5. They would make burner CDS for each other with songs that they resonate with one to the other person. L's playlist has the carpenters 'close to you' song in it and misa's has 'first love' by hikaru utada in hers for L. Misa and L listen to each other's playlist and dance with each other. 🍓

6. Instead of holding hands misa and L press their finger tips together or they would hold each other's pinkies. 🍓

- omg hello everyone, I hope I didn't make any mistakes after finishing this. As always I hope you enjoyed these simple hcs. I haven't posted anything in a good minute (i think) and this is not an art post but I wanted to share some sswee headcanons for lawmane/lawmisa since my entire account currently revolves around them. That's all for now, cya <3

#death note #lawmane #misa amane #l lawliet #l x misa #misa x l #lawmisa #misaliet #headcanons #lawmane Headcanons #my favourite ship #death note headcanons #i love lawmane

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saturnxlust · 5 months

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HEYYY :P ik its been awhile my bad😔

Injured!Proxys+ben x Doctor! Reader

Tim Wright/ Masky

So this man is closed off, all of the proxys are😞

But hes not a idiot, he knows when his body has had enough and when he needs help

The only way you’d be able to help him is if its a severe wound or if your close with him

Im talking at least 2+ years of either dating or being friends..

Lucky you if you’ve made it this long!

Now actually helping him is difficult

Hes stubborn and doesnt like to admit hes in pain so when you stitch his sorry ass up or disinfect it, he winces but swears hes fine

Hes not fine

He also complains the entire time about how he could do it himself

Knowing full well he couldnt he just likes to be a pain in the ass

Brian Thomas/hoodie

Hes more lenient, he’ll let you help him even though we all know this man could do it himself

It wouldnt be good but as long as he isnt bleeding out he doesnt really care

Although hes the more lenient one hes still closed off and it takes atleast a year or more to be able to help him

The first time you actually clean up a wound he falls deeper in love

Its not covered in dried blood or anything!

Hes amazed at how gentle you were and found it cute if you were concerned about him

It gets to the point where he would make small bruises or cuts just to have you put a little bandaid on his finger or put pain cream on his bruise

He would totally make you kiss the bandages after, no matter how big or small😭

He has dinosaur bandaids and unicorn bandaids.

Toby Rogers

Oh boy buckle up

So he cant feel pain

Good luck☺️

He doesnt know hes hurt and most likely you wont either

If you somehow get him to wash his fuckass sweatshirt and seem to see a wound, he too, would be confused and surprised

He would find how concerned you were funny and laugh as you clean him up

If you yelled at him while he laughed he’d tell you to relax and that hes fine

Hes not fine

Like brian he would make small cuts and or bruises to have you patch him up

Back tracking a little, it would take a few months but not because hes closed off

He trusts you completely to not hurt him physically

It was just getting to see him without his sweatshirt on that was difficult

He keeps that thing on all the time no way your getting a peak at his scrawny ass unless you rip that sweatshirt off him or if you get…spicy.. with him..

Eyeless Jack

HAH

Good luck

He went to medical school

This man knows what hes doing

But like the others finds it funny that you want to help him

He doesnt need it but honestly

Hes too smart to get too badly injured, if he does it’s because he went awhile wothout eating and became reckless

I think that if he were to go more then a fee weeks without eating he would get reckless with how he got the kidneys

He wouldnt leave the victims alive and leave them in their bed naked with incisions on their stomach

When that happens he usually comes home with a bruise or scratches from the victims fighting back,

If you’ve gotten to the point that you know about that and accept it, not only will you be helping clean him up

You’d help clean his clothes up

Hes a clean guy dont get me wrong but after eating i think he would just need to sleep

And if your like me theres no way that 7’ tall demon is getting in my bed soaked in blood and possible guts ☺️

Jeffery Hodek

God i wish you luck if your with this man

He will let his wounds get infected for fun and he will enjoy it when you get upset (COUGH COUGH MOUTH CUTS COUGH)

He honestly couldnt care less and again, finds it amusing when you yell at him

Lets be honest his story is written awful so im gonna tweak it a litte

He did not get bleached, there was a explosion and some of his hair burnt off, it has since grown back a little but the burn scars are still there

So if you want to help him clean his mouth he’ll complain and tease you and taunt you but he’ll let you do it

..if you even want to after all that.😒

Benjamin Lawman

So he can’t actually get hurt…i mean unless hes like a zombie but he isnt, this guys a ghost

So i mean, unless he has some power to be human magically theres really nothing that can hurt him

Even you..

But you should find a way to hurt him, whether it be physical or emotional causr hes a jackass

And will make fun of you just to see you cry😒

Either bring up something from his past(he might get a little angry at that🥰) or threaten to throw him into a lake

You can’t actually throw him but..he..doesnt need to know that😇

#creepypasta x reader #tim wright x reader #ben drowned #jeff the killer #brian thomas x reader #eyeless jack #x reader #creepypasta

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lawmane-enthusiast · 9 months

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Lawmane Week Day 02

Title: Always the fool with the slowest heart

CWs: None, heavy fluff!!!!

Word count: 844

Misa woke up in the morning to the feeling of L reaching aimlessly, staring at his computer, and grabbing her hand.

“Misa, my... my love?” He said with a wince. “Wake up... honey...” He said. He had never been one to use pet names or anything sappy like that, but he tried, during times like this. For her, he told himself.

Misa turned her head to look over at him. “Hi, L! Morning...” She said, smiling and starting to kick her feet under the covers. “You remembered? You remembered what day it is today?”

“Christmas?” He asked, teasing her. His lips curled upwards awkwardly in his trademark asymmetrical grin. Misa smiled wide and cupped his jaw with one hand.

“Oh, L! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said, reaching further and scruffling up some of the hair that hung near his neck, like he was a dog who had successfully retrieved a ball at the park. “I love you, sweetie.” She said softly.

He looked away. “Misa...” He mumbled. “I really don’t like saying it.” He said, and he was right. He hadn’t uttered those words for such a long time, and to say them out loud, even alone, just speaking from deep in his heart, it still felt wrong, in a way.

He felt out of place being with her, like she really deserved the dream boyfriend, not a tired detective that could never make time for the girl he loved so dearly.

”Please? For me, on my birthday of all days?”

He couldn’t say no now. What kind of shitty boyfriend would do that?

”I… I don’t know, Misa. Can’t you tell, just from everything I do for you? I sat with you as the sun set, and we climbed onto the roof, and we talked about the things that made us feel alive.” He said, looking down. “I’m sorry, Misa.”

“L!” Misa exclaimed. “Oh, please, why don’t you just say it, real quick?”

L bit his lip at this.

’Why is she like this. . .?’ He thought, but he couldn’t help smiling. He could never say such things aloud, but she really was… a dear.

”I don’t want to say it, Misa. I just want to… make a promise, I suppose. A promise that is just between you and me.” Misa leaned into him, ready for him to go on. “Misa, from the bottom of my heart… As cold and heartless as I may ever seem… I do love you. I do long for you. And I do cherish your memory. Always. This is my promise to you, between just us. It is my promise that I’ll never forget you.”

She pinched his cheeks affectionately. “Aw... Oh, L! How could I dream for a better boyfriend...?” She said, her voice fading dreamily, and it set something off in him.

He supposed he didn’t have to be any better because she would take anything that was given to her. And in the most silent way, forever in the back of his mind, that horrified him. He sighed a little and pat Misa’s back.

”There’s nothing more I want right now to be here with you. Forever. Because you are my forever, Misa. I struggled to find a true connection, all my life, but you came along… and…” Funny, he thought.

How he found himself choking back tears at this. At her. At them, their way of being.

But they weren’t sad tears. And with her around, he didn’t know how he could ever cry sad tears again.

”I don’t think I should have to say it. Just think about it; we don’t have the greatest lives. I’ll be honest about it. I’m… afraid, afraid that one day, something will happen. We do not have the greatest lives. But I know that we are one another’s forever. I know you’ll take me with you, I know I’ll take you with me. In… memory.”

He took a moment to pause, and he looked the slightest bit worried. He tried to cover it, but the thing with Misa was always that he could let his true self bleed through the mask.

”I apologize, am I making sense?” He suddenly asked. Misa looked up from her fingers and smiled at him.

”You are. You make lots of sense, and.. I think it’s bringing out a few realizations I needed to face. And, well, L, you don’t have to say it.”

On that day, something occurred to L.

You don’t need words for love.

Love is actions, and love is holding someone tight in your memory, knowing that no matter whatever happens to you or to them, you will have them in your memory.

I know you’ll take me with you, I know I’ll take you with me.

Love is caring, and love is thinking of them, and love is never really something you can totally define. It’s everywhere and in everything.

#lawmane #lawmane week #l x misa #misa x l #death note #lawmane enthusiast

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citruscloudsandmoon · 9 months

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Lawmane Day 05: Ephemeral

An excerpt from a unpublished fanfic which I have been working on in a very non-serious fashion. Translation: I have completely ignored the story 🥲

Thought to share it here because it fits the theme( I think? 😅). Hope you like it 🌻.

Heart-Stopper

One set finally caught Misa’s eye. It was a traditional canopy bed, the wood in color of black, its fittings that of copper hue. There was light intricate carving on the edges of its headboard, giving the whole thing a grand look. It was simply beautiful.

Unable to help herself, Misa lightly tapped the fingers against the wood, loving the soft clacking sounds it made. Net curtains will most definitely look much better than the satin ones, she decided, fingering the fabric draped over the frame.

Misa turned “Ryuzaki what do you……….”

She couldn’t complete the question. She wasn’t able to.

Ryuzaki was lying on the bed alright, except not normally. He appeared to be sunk amidst the sheets and fluffy pillows, arms and legs struck out in odd angles.

“Ryuzaki!” Misa loudly exclaimed, rushing towards his side at once.

“It’s alright Miss Amane! I can get out” Ryuzaki assured but Misa thought otherwise.

“Didn’t I tell you not to test them Ryuzaki?! Look at you! You are struck!” Misa cried out, clearly dismayed.

“I can assure you Miss Amane, I am not” Ryuzaki insisted, still struggling.

The blonde shook her head. Putting down her bag, she briskly marched toward the bouncy bed and reached for Ryuzaki’s arm. Grasping it firmly with both her hands, she tried pulling him.

Being light weighted she should have known better that it wasn’t going to work out.

“Woah!” Misa yelped, feeling her feet leaving the wooden floor instantly. It happened so fast. One minute she was standing. In the next moment, she found herself lying on top of Ryuzaki.

Ryuzaki let out a loud gasp. The impact wasn’t hard but it was sudden. It took him by surprise.

Misa heard him for then she started apologizing profusely. “Sorry sorry Ryuzaki! Misa didn’t mean to land on you!"

“It’s okay Miss Amane, you were only trying to help…….”

“But you got hurt! And……ooff!” Misa’ elbow slipped, making her cut off her speech. Dammit! The hell was wrong with bed? it won’t stay still!

Misa tried rolling but it only made her sunk further in the mattress.

“Miss Amane, stop rolling! You are only making it worst!” ‘Worst?! They wouldn’t be here at the first place if Ryuzaki didn’t jumped on them! Misa thought furiously.

Digging her nails on the blanket, Misa lifted herself to retort to Ryuzaki’ statement. It was only then she realized just how close they were to each other.

Ryuzaki had braced his palms on the duvet, holding himself from making any possible movement. The position would have looked comical if it weren’t for Ryuzaki breathing heavily, gazing at her with hooded gaze, fringes slightly ruffled.

That familiar warm feeling which dropped by earlier this afternoon returned at once. Only this time, it came back with much force.

A shirt slipped from Ryuzaki’s neck, exposing his one side of the collarbones. Misa blushed at the sight. She had seen numerous man shirtless before, both in real and in media. And yet Misa was going red like there was no tomorrow.

Calm yourself Misa, calm yourself Goddamit! She scolded to herself inwardly. It was difficult to think of anything else when all she was thinking of was Ryuzaki’s exposed neck and just how pale and sturdy it appeared. Her fingers were itching to run on his clavicle, wondering about its smoothness.

Before her body could take the decision for her, Ryuzaki all of a sudden flipped their sides, pining her hands above her head with his hands and her legs with his shins.

Misa was now under Ryuzaki. It couldn’t get any more awkward than this.

She was petrified. And so was Ryuzaki, who after pining Misa to the bed didn’t know what to do now.

Someone cleared a throat. Misa and Ryuzaki looked up and saw Ken, the salesperson who now was no longer smiling but was looking at them expressionless, his lips pursed as if he had swallowed a lemon.

“Getting comfy are we? Maceo does tend to have that effect” He commented, his tone uncharacteristically cold and formal.

Sinkholes popped around in Japan every now and then. Misa wished one would pop around here too so that she could disappear in the ground along with bed. This was beyond embarrassing.

#death note #l lawliet #L #Misa Amane #Lawmane #Lxmisa #l x misa #Lawmane week 2023 #Lawmane Day 05: Ephemereal #Sharing an excerpt? I know....very lazy effort but oh well 🥲🤡#Otp: I think I just met my wife #Line: I could fall for you #Your honour! They are both clowns in love but don't know yet ❤️

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whoyacallinyellow · 3 months

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Could you do an alternative version of borrowed time but it's a happy ending? Like they meet again maybe a couple of months or years later and idk it's super fluffy (idk I loved ur Javier fic it made me cry so hard)

Borrowed Time II (.5)

Javier Escuella x F! reader

Spoilers: RDR1-2 events Content: 18+ mdni, high honor Javier, fluff, loyalty, canon typical events & violence, possible spelling mistakes, some google translated Spanish, (slight angst? sry couldn't help myself) Type: second pov (wc - 3195) / pc: my PS5 a/n: here's my mediocre yapping, anon! I believe someone suggested this to me before, so here we are :) (btw I took some writing inspo from my spotify playlist.)

Summary: Javier is left with nothing after the gang's demise. Enticed with returning to Mexico, he finds redemption within his loyalty to you.

After being chased out of Beaver Hollow by the law, Javier found himself alone with Williamson. Somewhere in the sticks of northern Ambarino, where the risk of a grizzly finding them was higher than any lawman.

Laying low and listening to Bill squaller on about Dutch for a month was about all he could stomach, Javier reckoned he liked Bill a lot more when he didn’t talk.

As each day came to a close, one could guess where Javier’s mind wandered too. His bitter thoughts permeated on losing everything. Money, the gang, and you— Hell, the man didn’t know what to do with himself, considering you an extension of himself at this point.

Where were you? Did you make it out okay? Were you hurt?

These were a couple of the many questions that swam in the sea of Javier’s head.

“Are you still thinkin’ ‘bout that woman?”

Bill’s words of disgust were often displaced through his racing thoughts, but he wouldn’t be wrong. You were all Javier had upon entering these foreign lands, now he possessed nothing but the rocks in his boots.

The days would merge and turn into weeks, it didn’t take long for the plan of fleeing south to form in Bill’s lackluster head. Keen on the protection Javier could potentially bargain in Nuevo Paraiso.

Javier knew he was a dead man returning south, under no circumstances was that a can of worms he wanted to open with—Bill Williamson, out of all folk.

Besides, there was no man’s bidding Javier would consider doing to get the leverage Bill desired. But Bill’s ideas soon evolved into frustrated persuasion.

“How do’ya know that woman wasn’t the rat, anyhow?”

Bill would rant about you, the delusions Dutch fed him would resurface, but soon be swallowed back down with the same loyalty Javier once held so close.

“My chica wouldn’t, I’m telling you, cabrón. She’d save your neck just as much mine.”

Perhaps not completely true, Javier’s apathetic statements held no power over Bill, but at least it stopped his ear from being chewed off.

For all Bill was concerned, you were a coward just as much as the rest who left. Especially for plaguing Javier’s mind.

Bill would resort to not just questioning your loyalty to the gang, but your loyalty to Javier all together. The bold claims would make Javier think back to Clemons Point.

After a particularly nasty fight with Dutch, Molly sat on a nearby log as he sharpened his knife. He never knew what to say in situations like that, it was probably best he stayed out of it.

“The way she looks at you…”

The timid words escaped her. Realizing there was no one else around she could have been talking too, he met her stricken gaze which glistened off the moonlight.

“Huh?”

He wondered, caught off guard by the illusive topic. Molly wiped her rosy cheeks before she tenderly spoke.

“I wish I could look at Dutch the same.”

Javier just stared at the tear-stained woman in pity, unsure what to make of her unanticipated words.

That night's shift would give him plenty of time to think about it. Before eventually settling on giving you some extra attention. If it wasn’t obvious enough, he soon learnt that what you two shared was irreplaceable.

There was no doubt to Javier that you loved him, every lead he went on, you’d listen for the horses. Ready to greet him by his hitching post for a kiss, or with small talk that was exclusive to you both.

Javier would often get teased for the love you shared, perhaps some of it branched into jealousy. Not that he minded, the others knew you were off limits.

So it was safe to say that Bill’s claims was one thing Javier didn’t take lightly. With curses spat, and threats thrown, Bill had no other choice but to eat his words.

“Me ‘nd her go way further back than you and I.”

Javier’s irate words would soon remind Bill where he stood— below you.

That was Bill Williamson’s final straw for him to realize their parting was long overdue.

“If you wasn’t a fool, you’d be comin’ with.”

Was the last thing he spat to Javier one cloudy morning, bedroll and guns thrown on his unkempt steed.

You won't be seeing me again.

Javier thought in vain. Watching Bill’s departure in silence, just as he watched yours— except their time was up.

A cruel nightly cycle would leave Javier somewhere beneath the stars. The same night sky you’d lay him down gently in; he wondered if you were looking up at them too— or maybe you don’t think of him much anymore, just to get by.

Dozing off provided no sort of relief, the same thoughts that ate him alive during the day showed no mercy for a night's rest.

The dreams began after Guarma, and have stuck since. Most nights he would wake up confused, drenched in sweat, and frantically reaching for his gun belt only worn hours prior.

Your sweet voice would unknowingly soothe his hurt, all while he dismissed your attempts of rebuilding the bond you once shared. Javier regrets the distance, but he’s not sure if he would ever be ready to talk about Guarma.

Nonetheless, the terrible dreams always persisted, but managed to worsen after you left. They were so convoluted, Javier wasn’t sure which was a worse way to die; a watery grave, or succumbing to torture in a cage.

Other nights, Javier would dream about the day he returned to you at Beaver Hollow, god only knew how long they were gone for.

It was a rather gloomy day, at the end of the camp path was where he found you by your lonesome, as if you’ve been waiting for any sign of the missing men. Javier had seen better days, unshaven, wounded leg, and tattered garments that barely resembled the botched heist clothing he once wore. Javier approached you with a conflicted feeling of dread and relief, unsure of what to expect of you. But to the man’s horror, you crumbled before him.

You were just as much of a mess as he was. A terrible feeling arose from within his ribcage and drifted up, he momentarily thought he was going to black out from the knot building in his throat. An unmanageable feeling in his legs had already begun to brew throughout the day, vibrating and distorting his ears, blocking out your sobs he created. A near breaking point was threatening to consume him— he didn’t even know what day it was, how could he not know?

“You stupid bastard,”

Fallen at his feet, he cradled you soon after his initial shock dissipated.

“I know, I’m here now.”

Javier could barely recognize the hoarseness of his own voice, the words felt foreign to say after being gone for so long. Hopelessness overflowed from within him, and seeped into your frame that he held. All he could do was shield you from the cruel world he created for you both on that barren dirt path.

Your frantic pleas to leave would go unacknowledged, only to be substituted with soft hushes that were swept away in the trees. He couldn’t have just left, he had already sacrificed too much to quit now. Javier always swore Dutch would change your lives for the better.

—

In the recent nights of Macfarlane’s Ranch, life was still.

Javier’s dreams would evolve into a vessel of his old possession. Through bittersweet nostalgia, a buck would galavant by a stream, only to eventually stop and stand in triumph before fleeing into the distance. Those dreams offered Javier both temporary comfort and the humbling desolate nights he needed to return to you.

While staring off into the plains, Bill’s idea would occasionally infatuate him. The uncut ties of Mexico were beckoning, it was only a day's worth of digging in. Javier wasn’t sure he was built out for the vaquero life anymore, but those old chains around his feet would pull him back down.

Javier would eventually decide he wouldn’t watch the west die out, with false hopes of one last score followed by a life of freedom— he figured he already lost what made life rich.

At the ranch, Javier would chat up the yokels, describing you to the best of his abilities. Which usually stumped him— you... well, you were just you. He’s never been apart from you to have to worry about your description— Javier was always there.

Days passed without trace of you, it was probably best he left before the law caught wind of his excessive presence.

It was hopeless, yet he prayed on the North wind that it would him to you.

You could run the fool around in circles looking for your whereabouts. Hell, you could be in Timbuktu by now. Just like the day you left, the same hopelessness would creep upon Javier in those rare moments of disparity.

Those moments would eat him from the inside out, that discomforting pit forming in his stomach was always enough to empty it on the ground.

—

The aimless paths of New Austin was a place where the souls of saddle tramps go.

Into the horizon of the blazing sun was where you sat, under the only tree seen in miles. Your shire grazed in between you and the lonely road, like a black flag it stood in the orange dirt. Not even it could escape the mourning which life embraced.

You are not sure how much time passed you there, perched up under the tree, you’d watch the road. Studying the little silhouettes of cowpokes slowly growing as they approached periodically, all you thought of was Javier. Hope overturned your grudge until they were near.

Some of these men would simply tip their hat as they passed, others would offer you a ride to town, and a few just stared at you; their forlorn eyes scratched at the walls of your soul. As if they were trying to tell you something.

Just as unfortunate as yourself, the nameless victims would soon be swallowed and spit back out by the blazing desert that awaited them.

It wasn’t until a clear morning for Javier to stumble upon that fork in the road, leading to the tree where you sat; seeking the same retreat you did days ago.

Sickeningly poetic; with no such weight on your shoulders, you seemed to have found the freedom Javier had been chasing all these years. Right front of him this entire time in the devoid lands of New Austin.

Usually well groomed, the man showed a five o'clock shadow, earning a more rugged demeanor his months away from the luxuries of camp.

Lost puppy-dog eyes stared your way, being shielded by his bowler cap. The hair you used to run your fingers through was neatly tied back, and draping over his poncho.

“Javier,”

You greeted solemnly, your tranquil gaze greeting the man from where you sat. The thumping began in his ears as he staggered off Boaz, stiffly trying to shake the sudden feeling that your voice gave him.

“hola amor.”

He uttered awkwardly, approaching your newfound paradise underneath the old shady tree.

“I reckoned you’d be in Tahiti by now.”

You remarked bitterly, eyeing your lover from under the brim of your hat. He gripped the front of his gun belt, knuckles turning white and misshapen after all the years of abuse, the same hands that would be placed around your hips as he guided you through a busy town.

Javier let out a rueful huff as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. It flustered him to be antagonized in such a low moment of his life, especially by you.

But he simply did not possess the words and feelings begging to be shared with you— there were just too many.

Expecting you to continue, there was a deafening silence.

It was more than just the silence that plagued these western lands, but a sadness that often followed Javier everywhere he roamed, you could see it in his smile.

The lands gave Javier a place to duck under his doubts and troubles for a time, like a buck stuck beneath the bottom wire.

“It’s over,”

Javier’s voice came out as a whisper, thumb and finger caressing over the stubble on his chin.

A conclusion which needed no further words, you understood.

He never imagined it not meaning anything, but yet his brothers were reduced to the barrel he pointed.

Small shines of orange bathed through the wilting leaves which provided your gracious shade. As you contemplated his words, a soft breeze accompanied the both of you.

Finally arising to meet his frame, he towered over you slightly— lost along the way but finally found,

you were no longer his partner in crime, nor a part of the Van der Linde gang— but just his chica he met all those years ago in Old Mexico, before the world was big.

Javier knew he couldn’t make up for your lost time together, but for now, being with you would do.

Without a word his arms wrapped around you and trailed down to the small of your back, the smell of rolled tobacco leeched off his poncho, a smell you’ve grown fond of over the years. As his cheek rested on the crown of your head, a different kind of silence was shared.

“Oh Javi,”

Your voice now both sorrowful and tender, it was impossible to hold a grudge against the warm honeypot eyes that yearned for you.

“lo sé,”

Javier murmured softly, giving into the relief that a calmer life brought.

Behind where you rested revealed a testament the tree possessed. A bald spot in the maple-colored wood had bark torn away, faded letters with sap-filled groves were carved by previous visitors of the solitude tree:

‘blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy’

Javier united your lips with a long awaited kiss, your cheeks softly being caressed by his thumbs. To him, it was like falling for you all over again. But this time, he wanted to do everything right.

“Figured the law got you.”

You mumbled one of your many worries after the man pulled away. Javier scrunched up his nose, cringing at your doubts.

“Course not, nunca.”

Eventually bidding your farewell to the tree, you joined Javier at Boaz’s saddlebags for what seemed to be a celebratory smoke.

“They were hangin’ around that ranch, it’s not safe.”

You proclaimed, even the west had reminded you that a quiet cabin life was unrealistic. He hummed against the tobacco in between his lips, considering your words.

“Where does that leave us?”

Javier asked through an exhale. His sharp eyes squinted under the sun, staring at you in devotion.

For the first time in a year, you made that choice together.

With possessions on your shire and the both of you on Boaz, was where Javier liked you best. Feeling your heartbeat on his back always reminded him of Mexico, yet you were his home.

While riding, your hands would instinctively grasp Javier’s gun belt. Marking both the leather and his heart throughout the years you spent together.

Later that day Javier’s buck would graze upon the open fields you crossed, only to scamper off once your horses made way. Its coat bright and shining off the sinking sun, he swore it’s the biggest one he’s ever seen.

Expecting a comment, Javier thought maybe you dozed off, or perhaps he accidentally sipped his flask instead of his canteen.

Aways up north yielded reassurance and prosperity, the man decided that tonight he would sleep instead of keeping watch, an unusual gesture he knew you both needed.

Far away from the lands you once both resided, a comfortable wilderness separated you and any dangers— Maybe tomorrow night he would keep watch, but tonight, he just needed you.

Javier’s shaking hands prepped a small flame, and smoothed out the creases of your bedroll that night. The same hands that would work a revolver effortlessly, and confidently beat in the faces of men in a moment's notice.

but for you? they trembled.

Fingers that had been busted more times than you could count were now fumbling through every button of your shirt, leaving a trail of his lips where his hands once touched.

Nonetheless satisfied with these tasks, the crinkles beside his eyes would reflect off the flame as he flashed you a content smile.

The fire crackled within your cozy makeshift camp, its orange flame lighting up Javier’s torso just enough to highlight the tones and scars on his chest.

Javier was used to catching you staring, never failing to tease you about it. A mere husky chuckle and verbal warning would remind you of his diminutive willpower when it came to you.

Joining you beneath the blankets, his body radiated with the warmth you craved. With a protective arm easing you towards him, your skin colliding with his was enough to wash all his hardships away.

Your lips ghosted down his neck, causing a loose sigh to escape his lips. Javier cooed words of endearment, unsure if he deserved your regained affection.

You felt him tense around you as your lips traveled down to his adam’s apple and the large horizontal scar that covered it.

“lo siento,”

He muttered softly, finally getting the long awaited words out— It was for a lot of things, that scar was just one of them.

His breath hitched and ran down your bare skin, your torso being consumed by his restless large hands. Only you reminded Javier of his scars, usually in a way of gratification, having earned them throughout your time together.

But that healed slit along his throat brought the man waves of embarrassment, Javier was thankful for your love nonetheless, and you for his loyalty.

With belated love and words begging to be said, Javier knew his lips had a lot of catching up to do. But tonight you both needed rest.

As if it was tradition, he ensured you found your peace first, maybe it solaced the man knowing you were safe within his arms.

Gusts of winds whistled through the trees, causing them to sing a song made just for the two of you. His coarse hands ran down your sides before settling at your waist, once again basking in what he could have lost.

Up yonder was where the starry night sky shined just for him to see you. The constellations washed away his most honorable sins, and extended the borrowed time you both had been lent years ago.

The blanket you shared was pulled over your shoulder, ensuring your undisturbed rest. Javier’s gentle lips ghosted over your cheek for just one more kiss goodnight.

You were long asleep, closely tucked within the arms of the man you called home. Yearning to chase the relief your shared nights provided, Javier’s eyes grew heavy. Through a gentle state of somnolent, his prideful buck accompanied him in the meadow it frolicked.

Whispered words slipped into the night and greeted his slumber.

“te amo.”

#rdr2 headcanons #javier escuella #x reader #javier escuella x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #high honor #red dead redemption fandom #this was supposed to be longer but i cut it out to make it flow better #not sure if i like it but i had fun writing #javier is my fav to write i think #save me javier save me :(

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dcwildwestfest · 6 months

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The Prodigal

By FriendofCarlotta | @friendofcarlotta Art by aggiedoll | @romachebella

Coming to Ao3 on April 18th, 2024

Rated E | 19,500 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Dean Winchester travels the wide-open country, looking for bounties to collect and doing odd jobs to make ends meet. Usually, he rides with his brother Sam, but they’ve had a falling-out and now Dean’s all by himself — until he meets Cas Novak, a preacher’s son in search of his missing father. Cas believes his notorious outlaw brother Luke knows something of their father’s disappearance, so he asks Dean’s help in tracking Luke down. Dean figures there’s no harm in helping out, and he might earn himself Luke Novak’s bounty into the bargain. All Dean needs to do is keep a lid on his growing feelings for Cas. (aka Free to Be You and Me, rewritten as a Western)

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

When they locate the sheriff’s office, they find the jail cell empty and the lawman tossing playing cards into his hat, which is sitting upside down on a chair across the room. A couple of Wanted posters are tacked up on the wall, edges curling up in slow rebellion where the glue’s gone too dry to hold them.

“Afternoon,” Dean says, with a nod and a tip of his finger against his hat brim. “Slow day?”

The sheriff shrugs, unperturbed at having been caught slacking off. “Every day’s a slow day ‘round here, brother.”

Cas pipes up from next to Dean with a breathless, “It’s an honor to meet an esteemed colleague. Being a man of the law myself, I mean to say. It’s an honorable profession, albeit a—”

“He’s new,” Dean says, desperate to cut off Cas’ nervous rambling before it rouses even this sleepy small-town lawman’s suspicions.

The sheriff emits an acknowledging grunt, eyeing Cas dubiously. “Name’s Lafitte. How can I help y’all ‘esteemed colleagues’?” He grins at them, sun glinting off a gold tooth.

Dean arranges his face into an expression of pained concern. “Our town’s preacher went missing some weeks back and we’ve reason to believe the outlaw Luke Novak is the one who took him.”

Lafitte’s eyes flick back and forth between them. “Where did y’all say you were from? Gotta be a mighty big place, to be able to spare both the sheriff and a deputy so’s they can chase after a preacher.”

Damn it all. Lafitte is much more shrewd than Dean expected a small-town lawman to be. “Hatsville, Missouri,” he improvises. “New town. Lots of railroad money.” Cas seems inclined to weigh in as well, perhaps to expound on the various attractive qualities of the fictitious Hatsville, so Dean hurriedly changes the subject. “About Novak. Heard he mighta passed near here recently. That true?”

The sheriff weighs him with a lengthy glance before he allows, “True enough. Didn’t come through Jubilee, but they say he robbed a train no more’n three miles from here. Most excitement we had in town was that no-account drunk Walt, claimin’ he met Novak on the trail and got his poker winnings taken. You ask me, it’s likely as not Walt stole the money in the first place. Wouldn’t be the—”

“Where can this Walt be found?” Cas asks, with the eagerness of a man who’s new to the hunt and getting a taste for it. Dean bites down on a smile.

Lafitte regards Cas with some disfavor, obviously not best pleased at having had his account interrupted. “Chances are, he’s at the saloon, trying to talk his way into a bottle of whiskey on credit he ain’t got.”

A man with information they need, desperate for a drink — hard to do better than that. “Much obliged,” Dean tells the sheriff and, with another tip of his hat, leads the way back outside. Somewhere down the street, high above the low-slung rooftops, the town clock strikes two.

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #fic promo #dwwf 2024

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niightniines · 3 months

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isn't it so weird that Misa Amane was kidnapped by L against her will, tortured and confined for seven weeks, and almost killed herself because of it, but nobody who ships Lawmane talks about it because I guess they don't want to recognize the parts of their ship that are a little fucked up? like ok what happened to "I'll never ship yagamane even in au context because it's just too toxic!" alright then do that for other ships too.

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allzelemonz · 1 year

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The O’Driscoll Golden Boy: Colm O’Driscoll X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘feller’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, murder, implied mutilation, references to castration Warnings: Power dynamics, power imbalance, oral sex, face fucking, deep throating, praise, abuse/unhealthy relationship, marking, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, facial, humiliation, slight aftercare, hints of fluff if you really squint, homophobia, period-typical heavy homophobia Summary: Colm’s golden boy made a little mistake. The boss doesn’t like that.

Every job always goes smoothly. Every job. Not once have you ever messed up. Not like this. Riding with the O’Driscolls has always been fun so long as Colm is pleased, and Colm is always pleased with you. Pleased enough to drag you into his bed and show you what being the golden boy really means. But tonight… tonight you won’t even be making it back to camp, let alone your boss’s cabin and that big warm bed he’s had these past few weeks.

No, tonight you got caught.

Frankly you should consider yourself very lucky to be breathing.

Sheriff nearly broke your arm hog tying you though, probably shouldn’t be happy about that. He acts like he’s some god when he and his deputies get you in a cell. Something about a bounty having just been raised. Your head’s too fogged from getting hit and your arm hurts far too much to care anyway. Last poster you saw had upwards of a thousand, but that was about a big job further out West. Who knows which state you’re even in at this rate.

Then one of them says it. “Colm O’Driscoll’s golden boy!”

It’s a sneer, mocking and provoking, as they all turn to look at you. You’ve sat down on the floor of the cell, nowhere else to sit and your feet and legs are tired from running. You almost want to stand just so they’re not looking down on you, but in the end you find yourself much too tired to care.

“Should hang ‘em ourselves.” One of the deputies says. “Heard he’s done some sick shit.”

Of course you have. Colm asked you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

Another deputy pulls a paper from the wall, tossing it on the table and letting it glide and spin. Your bounty poster, you assume. Terrible drawings really, they always are. It frankly surprises you anyone ever gets found.

“Wanted for murder, horse theft…”

You tune out the list of crimes, knowing all of them won’t even be listed on the little space. If they actually wrote everything out there wouldn’t be much room left to put your name and bounty, let alone a picture. It does leave out a lot of details though, important details in your opinion.

“He the one what did those robberies up along the forest, killed those families?”

Yes. You are. They had money, more than they needed. At first you asked nicely, then you didn’t. Business is business and it got you a nice reward from your boss.

“Couple damn orphans came outta that string.”

They’re fine. You even took them into town and gave them some bread and cheese. Boys wanted to shoot them too, you’re a saint in comparison.

“An’ he’s runnin’ with Colm O’Driscoll.” One of them glares at you. “Bet some a’ his charges could trickle down.”

Sure they could. You’ve helped Colm with plenty of things you’ve never seen yourself charged with. Not that you want to recall any of that or have it formally charged. You only kept your mouth shut about it all because you’re smart enough to be deadly loyal when it comes to Colm. You’d never say no to his orders or his requests. That would be stupid.

“I heard he got sodomy in the next state over too.”

Oh, that was a fun clash with the law. Colm fucking you in a back alley in some big city only for a lawman to find you, add charges for you but not Colm. Bullshit really, but it was such a good time that you recall it with fondness. You got rewarded for getting away when you got back to camp after all.

“Love ta see ‘em hang.”

If it would get them to shut up, you might opt for it. You’re starting to get a headache from all the hitting and incessant discussion of your crimes. Your guns aren’t that far away. If they just happened to drink a little more of that whiskey they pulled out to celebrate, got nice and distracted, you might be able to swipe them.

“It’s a three-thousand dollar bounty.” The sheriff snaps. “We’re takin’ ‘em ta the city.”

A trip to the city, a poorly guarded jail car, easy target. If not that, then easy lock picking. But you know the boys that got away will run back to camp with their tails between their legs, tell Colm all that happened, and seeing as Colm had said plenty of dirty things in your ear before you left, he will be a little upset that you didn’t come back like you always do. Cash in hand, happy to take the reward Colm is so desperate to give you. You used to think that’s all it was, the boss giving his best, his golden boy, a reward for doing well on a job. But Colm slips up in his facade sometimes, enough to see he doesn’t just want to fuck his golden boy.

There have been times where you’ve woken up, pretended to sleep, while Colm presses very uncharacteristically sweet kisses all over your face. There’s the occasional exchange before a shootout where he steps in front of you as if you need protecting. Little things a cruel outlaw might do when in love with his dear golden boy. Not that Colm would ever admit anything like that. No, he’ll hide it and let out his frustrations about not being able to act sweet by fucking you senseless under the guise of rewards.

And you have been well aware of this for years now. Not that you’d ever bring it up.

“Could at least let some widows an’ orphans rest a little easy…” One of the deputies says with a slur to his voice. “Hard ta shoot folk without no hands.”

A few of them laugh and you find yourself looking at your hands. You are quite attached to your hands, both in the literal and figurative sense. Though you can think of a few ways to pull a trigger without them, you’d still rather keep them.

“I’d rather castrate ‘em.”

That gets more laughter. It’s an idiotic joke in itself. Once again, you’re quite attached to your dick and would like to keep it and its friends. But, just like the shooting, there are other ways you can think of to get around the loss of an appendage. Colm hardly touches it half the time anyway. Still would rather keep it though.

“Who’s ta say he ain’t cause us some problems.” Another laughs. “Could give ‘em a good beatin’.”

At the rate they’ve gotten themselves drunk, you would like to see them try. One of the deputies stumbles past the others. They watch as he takes out the keys, snickering and giving light cheers as he glares down at you. The second that door opens it will become very easy to take his gun and shoot the drunken fools. Though it is tempting to only disarm a few, maybe pay them their own threats before finishing them off.

But then the large front door to the sheriff’s office opens and several men flood inside. All thankfully featuring green somewhere on their bodies. The drunk lawmen drop to the ground as the boys shoot out their legs. They cry and whimper until blows land on their heads and the boys tell them to shut up. The man by your cell sputters as he tries for his gun, the same one that recommended hanging you. A hole forms in his head and he falls, keys dropping to the floor. Of course it’s Colm that stands with his gun raised, an irritated look across his features.

One of the boys scrambles for the keys, unlocking the door as you stand. You walk out and stop yourself in front of Colm like the obedient dog you have become in his presence. Very slowly, he runs his hand over your chest until his fingers curl tightly into your shirt. He tugs you closer, glaring and angry in having to rescue his dear golden boy.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, boy?”

You shake your head, knowing better than to say what needs to be said in front of the boys. Not that they don’t know, but that you’d rather hang than look as pathetic as you let yourself become in Colm’s hands.

“They treat ya nice?” He asks, his grip on your shirt loosening ever so slightly.

Your eyes trace over the men, finding the familiar faces that laughed about torture. “Sheriff’s fine, not those two.”

Colm follows your gaze. “Any recommendations?” He releases you, turning to look at the men cowing on the ground. “Boys deserve a little fun since we came all this way.”

And those men very much taste their own words. Colm doesn’t think you deserve to see such a fun little party, so he drags you outside by the collar. But the screams, they sound much better than the laughs.

“Ya wanna explain yerself, boy?” Colm seethes, throwing you roughly against the stone wall that makes up the side of the sheriff’s office.

It’s too dark to see his face. Too late for people to be out and about, even with the screaming. This town is small, surrounded by gangs, no one would be so stupid to leave their home right now.

You stumble a bit, settling yourself against the wall, knowing very well Colm wants you where he puts you. “Can’t explain it, boss. The detonator should have worked.”

His hand winds into your hair, pulling you towards him. The pain shoots through your scalp, a good half of it running down to your dick knowing Colm’s habits. In the dim light of a lantern you can now see his face with the proximity. Perhaps his habits won’t be holding up, he looks rather displeased.

“And why is that?” He asks and you can practically feel the mocking in his voice.

He knows. He must know you messed up. His golden boy made a mistake, something that’s never happened before. You’re not entirely sure how he’ll react to it. But maybe you can talk your way out.

“Seamus probably.” You say as smoothly as you can with the grimace on your face Colm’s rough tugging brings on. “He’s the one that wired things.”

Faster than you can blink, Colm shoves your head back into the wall. The impact with the stone does nothing for your headache, even makes you see stars a little. Your vision is double and shaky as Colm grips harshly onto your cheek to make you look at him, his other hand still gripping at your hair. For a few seconds you see two of his angry face, but as he speaks it settles into one.

“I ain’t a fool, boy.” He hisses. “Ya messed up, lost me a lotta money.”

You groan as his hand tightens in your hair, the stinging not bringing any more pleasure and solely burning through your scalp.

“Here I thought you was perfect.”

That almost stings more than your head. Colm’s praises always keep you going and disappointing him is not something you ever want to do again.

“‘m sorry, boss.” You rasp. “I-I…”

Colm presses his nails into your skin, deep enough to leave marks across your face. “Shut yer damn mouth, pretty boy.”

You nod slightly in his grip, only unable to keep yourself from whimpering at the fresh pain. You can feel something trickle, something wet. By the momentary smirk on Colm’s face, you guess he’s drawn blood, perhaps even done enough to leave scars. Scars embedded into your cheek, Colm’s nails forever digging into your skin.

“Get on yer knees now, boy.”

His grip releases, pain no longer focusing where his hands were and now spreading back to your head as you drop to your knees. You land rough, not wanting to make Colm any more upset, not wanting to disappoint him again. With somewhat hungry eyes, you watch as he unfastens his pants. He pushes his gunbelt up, situating things around as he pulls out his dick. Long and thin, achingly hard, everything you remember. But you’ve never been on your knees before, never had your face so close.

“Fuckin’s a reward, pretty boy.” He grunts, pressing his dick to your lips. “Ya haven’t been very good.”

You don’t dare move without his order. There have been times where he’s thrown you out of his bed for being too eager, made you sit on the floor while he dealt with himself. But that was when he was happy with you, when his dear golden boy hadn’t made any mistakes. You fear what he might do if you make even a single move of your own. So you sit on your knees, taking in the musky scent of the thing you’re supposed to put in your mouth. You wouldn’t particularly describe Colm as a clean man.

He drags his tip along your chin and up to your cheek. You’d give anything for a bit more light to see his face but you’d likely die on the spot if anyone saw you like this. For a moment it stings and you know it’s rubbing over one of Colm’s marks on your cheek, the one his thumb made by your eye. You make a note to clean yourself thoroughly after this. As much as you want to please Colm, to hear his praises, you don’t want some infection from his unwashed dick rubbing into a cut on your face. He seems to enjoy doing though, and for a moment you shutter at the thought of what he would be doing if you had something as large as a stab wound instead.

Then his hand returns to your hair, tugging roughly enough to snap you out of any thought and make your focus turn entirely on him. He tilts your head back and you provide no resistance. Every step of the way, he guides your head. Pressing softly to your lips and urging you down onto him, you open your mouth without question. As he slides through your mouth you taste every inch on him. He certainly hasn’t bathed in a while and you could guess that from his hair, but this really sells it. He tastes like sweat and dirt and dried pomade. And as he forces himself all the way in, hitting the back of your throat as tears form in your eyes, your nose is pressed against an even more foul bunch of pubic hair. It smells like the rest of him, but it’s not nearly as pleasurable as a normal musk might be with the unkempt hairs tickling your nose. For a few seconds he simply sits in your mouth, his dick fully enveloped. You struggle not to panic. You’ve always known he was long, loved it when it hits you so well deep inside where most men could never imagine fucking, but now that he’s shoved himself down your throat you’re not quite as keen.

You can hardly hear his words with how much your head pounds. “Be a good boy an’ sit still.”

Then he moves. You have air for all of a second before he rams himself back in and your throat closes slightly around his tip. It chokes you but it must be the feeling he’s chasing because he does it again and again. At this rate you feel much more like a simple dark, wet hole than a golden boy. But Colm keeps you eager with praises.

“Look at chu, pretty boy.” He mutters. “Such a good boy, always makin’ the boss feel good.”

Of course you do. Colm ordered you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

“Shit, yer such a pretty thing.”

His hand still grips your hair as he forces your movements, fucking your mouth roughly. But his praises come with another hand, soft as he combs through your hair. Two sides of a coin, just like always, reward or punishment.

“Feel so damn good, boy.” He huffs, his hips starting to become erratic. “Always so good fer me, my golden boy.”

With that you can feel the tightness of your pants, but you don’t dare do a thing about it. Not without the boss’s permission, not without Colm’s smile and hungry eyes.

“Sit pretty fer me now.” He orders, pulling back.

His hands leave your hair, his dick slipping from your mouth. It takes a lot of control to stay upright, to not keel over and gasp for breath. Instead you stay as he left you, sputtering coughs and little gasps as your eyes fix on him. He works himself fast, his hand moving roughly against sensitive skin slicked by its time fucking into your throat. You close your eyes when he grunts, feeling warm streaks across your face a second later. As Colm hums to himself, you keep still. You feel the air around you shift as he kneels down in front of you. His lips press against yours, kiss slicked by his cum on your lips. He holds you still, his hand gripping that same spot in your hair with the same roughness as he kisses you deeply. Faintly, you feel something else against your skin. It rubs over your eyes and over your cheek. When Colm pulls back from his kissing you open your eyes.

He holds a rag in hand, running it over the cuts he made to keep them somewhat clean for the moment. His face holds a focus, but nothing else. No anger, no gentleness, simply focus as he wipes his cum off of some of your face. Not all, just what’s necessary, just your eyes and injuries. Then he tosses the rag to the ground, his other hand still tightly holding you in place by the hair. His eyes look over you, tracing along where you can feel the now cooling bits of him still on your skin. You take a sharp inhale as his free hand grips roughly onto your straining dick. His eyes bore into yours, anger now clear on his face.

“No more mistakes, pretty boy.” He warns. “I much prefer fuckin’ ya normal.”

You give him a small nod. “Yes, sir.”

He squeezes your dick. “My golden boy don’t make mistakes, do he?”

“No, sir.” You gasp out.

“An’ he’s gonna make that money back so I can fuck ‘em senseless, ain’t he?” His hand kneads down into your dick, giving it much needed friction.

“Fuck…” You groan. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He removes his hand, the other tugging tightly at your hair to make you focus on his face again. “Take them boys ‘n get me my money, pretty boy.”

You hold back a whimper from the lack of contact. “Yes, sir.”

He tugs again. “No cleanin’ up either, ya deserve what ya got.”

Then he releases you, standing as you fall on your hands and knees to the ground. You breathe heavily as he walks away, catching your breath and gaining your senses. You have blood drying along cuts from Colm’s nails, cum drying on your skin and likely your hair as well, no fit state to face a bunch of the boys. But of course you do. Colm told you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #colm o'driscoll #colm o'driscoll x reader #colm o'driscoll x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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