#mitch keller x f!reader

[reveluving]

Thought of the Day: Mitch Keller being extra 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

warnings: s~mut obv (EXTRA spicy imo, so minors DNI!), bits of fluff (self-indulgent), very brief mentions of dr-gs, & the usual explicit language!

a/n: don't ask, just read because mitch keller. please enjoy, take care & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna read more on garrett's characters? check out my new g.hedlund m.list!

» smut includes; obsessive, panties-stealing husband!mitch (YESSS), mild m~asturbation & 'darlin'' as a petname ❤️

'But would that really quell his thoughts?' ;

Whether you're feeling under the weather or the like for the day, Mitch, ever the attentive husband, will convince you to stay home while he takes care of the saloon for the night.

It was no problem, it wouldn't be his first rodeo, no matter how busy it would get.

The real problem was being away from you even just a few hours.

It had been a while since he had worked the bar without you by his side, but he couldn't bear the thought of you overworking for even a minute, no matter how hard you tried to reassure him.

Sure, there was no harm in texting, maybe video-calling when the shift slows down—he’s done it plenty of times—just for a few minutes.

But would that really quell his thoughts?

Just as he wondered though, helping you out with some chores, he eyed the laundry basket, specifically the little fabric at the top.

He stilled, long enough without even realizing it until your sweet voice called for him from the kitchen. Shortly after reassuring you, he carried the basket to the washer, and even then, he couldn’t stop staring at the pair of panties, in both your favourite kind and colour.

Even as it sat at the very top of the pile, he, instead, shoved the ones below into the machine, giving him just a few extra seconds on whether he should think with his brain or with his cock.

But then again, he always had a daredevil streak, hasn’t he?

The corners of his lips were already quirking upwards as soon as he got a hold of the pretty little material, taking the time to appreciate it in between his fingers.

Man, did he feel like a creep.

It didn’t stop your husband from having a quick whiff of it even before his rational, more ‘civil’ side could berate him, already gaining some form of restraint for the coming shift. 

And even as he pocketed your panties, oh, he should’ve known better than to think it would be enough.

Hours into work, mindlessly serving drinks and all, he was starting to feel it, and one of his hands was in his pocket, already gripping the flimsy material even before he locked the bathroom door. 

His veiny arm shook as he slowly took your panties out, gazing upon the lace with half-lidded eyes, hazy with lust, and before he even knew it, he brought it to his nose, inhaling the panties that were so…

You.

Scent, sound, feel and all.

It didn't help that he realized it was the same panties you wore when he ate you out immediately after closing hours, dimming all but one light just enough to watch you in your glory. 

How he traced his lips and beard along your legs upon placing them over his shoulders before tugging your panties to the side, devouring you like a man starved. All while he couldn't help but roll his hips each time he shoved his tongue deeper into you.

He knew how much of a tease he was when he held your thighs down, ensuring you didn't buck too far from his hungry lips or his facial hair, waiting to be drenched by you.

He remembered how drunk he felt when you tugged at his hair, trying your best not to be forceful despite his pats at your ass turning into slaps and squeezes, encouraging you—downright forcing you to rough with him.

And even now, as one hand fondled his tent through his jeans, the other holding onto your cute little underwear to his face, nipping and drooling on it, it felt better than any drugs he has ever had in his darker days tenfold, possibly even seeming like one as his eyes rolled back.

One glimpse at the mirror above the sink and he could've sworn he saw you, shyly rubbing at his clothed cock while he kissed you so passionately.

Fuck it. 

His customers could wait. 

He couldn't find it in his to care about the patrons who may have arrived without his knowledge, the man too far gone in his mind, thinking of you as he bit down onto your panties, one hand haphazardly unzipping his jeans while the other scrolling through his phone.

His thumb moved swiftly for a very specific folder in his gallery.

One he named ‘Darlin��� ❤️’.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: look me in the eyes and tell me he's not a freaky freak like this. right, you can't 🗣 ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[wardenparker]

Mitch Keller + "Dance with me", pls? Love the TF boys in other things 2!!!

Mitch Keller. 1,665 words. "Dance with me." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Light undertones of dom!Mitch. Boss/employee dynamic. Mutual pining. The love is requited, they're just idiots. Garrett Hedlund as Mitch Keller is desperately underrated and I can't wait for season 2 of Tulsa King.

The bar is like a whole different place after closing. Every single night, without fail, the place goes from noisy and energetic to just being the two of you. Loud and buzzing becomes quiet and comfortable as soon as you cross the threshold after closing time. Two in the morning would be a lonely time for most people. Maybe it ought to be. Maybe it even is for Mitch Keller. You can’t be sure. But for you, two in the morning is the time you like most. When you get to be alone with the man you’ve been in love with for years.

Despite wiping down the bar top countless times during the night, there’s still a sticky film to be cleaned. Spilled liquor and beer from varying degrees of coordinated hands. Mitch knows you are watching him as the old jukebox plays and he wonders what you are thinking.

You really have to stop staring at your boss. Shit’s gonna get your fired for harassment one of these days. The music clicks over, jolting you out of your head and reminding you to clean. The floor isn’t going to sweep itself and it doesn’t matter how good Mitch’s ass look in those jeans. You’ll think about it later like you always do. But not here. Not now.

Despite the patrons paying for the songs that come over the old stereo. Mitch has a key that lets the two of you listen for free. Programming at least an hour’s worth of songs while you decompress and clean up. It had been a good night, but there’s this electric tension in the air.

Sometimes you share a single drink while you clean. Sometimes you chat about the day or about Mitch’s dad, who is the kindest landlord in the world and the reason you have this job. Sometimes you joke or bitch or play around. Tonight it seems like wanting him has you in a strangle-hold, though, so when Patsy Cline comes on the jukebox, you almost groan for the irony.

“You doing alright over there?” Mitch asks, tossing the rag into a bin and propping his hands on his trim hips.

“What?” You were staring again. Into space this time, but staring nonetheless. “Uh—yeah. Fine. Totally fine,” you lie, shaking your head and shoulders and starting to sweep again. Daydreaming — middle of the night dreaming? — about your boss needs to wait until you get home.

He chuckles and shakes his head, amazed that you don’t just give in and tell him already. The hooded glances and yearning looks only go so far and if he were a betting man – which he is – he would say you were daydreaming again. “Let’s get finished early.” He tells you. “Got something I want to do.”

“Oh—oh sure.” Something to do in the wee hours of the morning? You try not to wonder if that ex-girlfriend of his has come crawling back again, knowing that it isn’t any of your business and you have no right to be jealous even if she is. Instead you pick up the pace with an unnerved and slightly anxious energy, determined not to think about it.

Mitch caps off the beer taps and groans. “I’ve got to restock the coolers.” He tells you. “You okay to mop?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” After years in this job you could probably close the whole bar down with your eyes closed, and you nod rather than look him in the eyes, afraid to give yourself away. “If you need to go, I can finish up alone.”

“No, I’m just going to be in the back for a few minutes.” He clarifies and tosses you a grin. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. You know that.”

“I’ll be right here when you’re done.” Without him standing there distracting you, you’ll probably work three times faster, but it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault you’re a grown woman with a completely impossible crush — it’s more than that but you can’t deal with that right now — on a man who’s so far out of your league that it’s remarkable he even remembers your name.

Mitch disappears into the back, not quite telling the truth about why he had to go back there, but he needs to bide his time. To get you finished up before he came back out.

It doesn't take you long to actually get things sorted out up front. When you had thought that you could clean this place with your eyes closed, you meant it. The jukebox turns to more upbeat songs and you work through it, reminding yourself to just get the hell through the night so you can go home and get him out of your head for a few hours. At least until you have to be back here tomorrow night. Just breathe, and sing along with Leann Rimes on the jukebox to keep yourself amused. That's what you'll do.

In the back, Mitch has basically made himself a little apartment. He doesn't need much and the bar is literally his baby, so he cleans up quickly, wanting to freshen up. When he comes back out, you have just put everything away and are obviously waiting on him to return. The song fades out and slower one starts to pour out of the speakers. "You're done." He hums quietly.

"I've had practice." It's the closest you can get to teasing him tonight, with your head swimming and your palms a little sweaty. You're not your normally boisterous self.

"You do a good job." He praises, walking closer to you and when he's right in front of you, he stops. "So I was wondering if you would do something for me." He ventures softly.

"Of course." No hesitation, no consideration. You would do anything for him.

Smiling, he holds out his hand. “Dance with me.” He orders softly, stepping closer for you to accept his offer.

“I—what?” Somehow your hand has gone up on its own, hovering over his before you even manage to process what he’s asked.

“Dance with me.” He repeats, an amused twinkle in his eyes and a curve of his lips making him appear boyish.

It’s like your brain short circuits even while your body obeys, hand settling lightly in his and feet stepping forward while your mind works in overdrive to understand. You can’t stop yourself from blurting out “Why?” despite the moment being your literal dream come true.

“Because you never ask.” He reasons easily. “And how can I kiss you without a dance first?”

Thankfully the noise that strangles in your throat is more of a squeak than a squawk, and you swallow it before it can become anything absurd or humiliating. From somewhere in the background you can hear Trisha Yearwood on the jukebox and you might be shaking a little, but your other hand finds Mitch’s shoulder just well enough that you don’t stumble. “You…” You start to catch up to the moment as he starts to move to the music, and the surprise on your face is as obvious as your breathlessness. “You…want to kiss me?”

“Been thinking about how you taste.” He admits as he moves you around the open area of the bar. Skirting the tables that now have chairs flipped up on their tops. “Have for a while.”

“I’m…” Embarrassed heat floods your cheeks, warming your entire face right down your neck and chest. “I’m even less subtle than I think I am…aren’t I?”

“‘Bout as subtle as a rattler warning off a poor bastard walkin’ barefoot.” Mitch grins at you.

“Super.” You huff at yourself, sarcasm dripping from both syllables like honey. “Thank you for bein’ nice to my dumb ass, then.”

“Wondered why you took so long.” Mitch admits. “Got impatient, so I decided to make the move.”

“Sort of thought I was invisible to you,” you admit quietly, letting him lead you through basic steps even though you know damn well the man has moves. It’s you who can’t dance for shit, so he’s being nice again.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Dead wrong.” He tells you. “Just didn’t want you to think I was a creepy boss.”

“I was the creepy employee instead, I guess,” you huff, needing to laugh so that you don’t let your cheeks get as hot as a volcano.

“Thought it was kind of cute, myself.” Mitch drawls. “But….” He lifts a brow at you teasingly. “If we’re gonna do this—” he pulls his hand off your waist to motion between the two of you, “you gotta initiate sometimes. Can’t just be me chasin’ you.” He winks. “You gotta chase back.”

Being thoroughly embarrassed but elated are apparently two sides of the same coin for you, as there is no competition between expressions on your face — just one bright, disbelieving smile that makes you feel lighter than air. “If I had known you felt this way, I would’ve said something a long time ago.”

“It all works out in the end.” He promises, smirking at you softly. The music plays and the two of you sway around the bar, getting comfortable with the closeness of your bodies pressed together.

“Suppose so.” It’s whole actual years of yearning on your part, but you’re not about to second guess this moment. Not by a long shot. Not when he fits even more perfectly against you than you’d dreamed. “Suppose it’s all about what happens next.”

“Yeah.” The songs slowly starts to fade out and he comes to a stop with you still in his arms. “So.” He murmurs, lifting a brow. “What do you want to happen next?”

“I believe…” You quirk your head at him and feel your cheeks heat up all over again. “A kiss was mentioned?”

“Yes it was.” He flashes you a roguish grin and leans on, nudging your nose with his. “So, sweetheart…dance with me.” He orders right before he presses his lips to yours.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[sci-fi-disney-prince]

Garrett Hedlund Mini March Fic Madness

In honor of March Madness, I created this master list of Garrett Hedlund character fanfics and may update it even after March. This may not be mobile/tablet-friendly.

Note: This may not have all of the stories posted on Tumblr and/or elsewhere since I am only one person and could only find as much as I can and unfortunately get distracted by Garrett along the way.

Also, these do not belong to me. These stories belong to these lovely fanfic writers credited below and to the people behind the original source material. Do keep in mind that many of these fanfics are targeted for 18 years of age and older, so reader discretion is advised.

Tagged: @the-blind-assassin-12 (the person behind March Fic Madness 2024)

Key: ❤️‍🔥 = Smut(ty)/Explicit 🍬 = Fluff ❤️‍🩹 = Angst

Updated as of May 5, 2024

Sci-fi-Disney-prince’s G.H. Corner coming soon

Special Events

@/triplefrontier-anniversary (A fanfic and art event to celebrate Triple Frontier's 5th anniversary which is run by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime that goes from March 1st-March 14th. Take out the slash to go to their page)

Masterlists

Mitch Keller x F!OC Waitress Oneshot Masterlist by @marmie-noir [Content warning: violence, sex, and 18+ content] ❤️‍🔥

TriFRambles’ Masterlist by @triframbles

Delta Landscaping Mainlist by @rhoorl ❤️‍🔥

Benny Miller Masterlist by @dameronscopilot [some 🍬, some ❤️‍🔥]

Garrett Hedlund Masterlist by @dameronscopilot 🍬❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Benjamin "Benny" Miller Masterlist by @musings-of-a-rose [Some Fluff, Some Angst, Some Smut, some all of the above]

FishBen Rec List by @thirstworldproblemss [Some fluff, some angst, some smut, some all of the above]

phoenixhalliwell Masterlist by @phoenixhalliwell [includes Triple Frontier guys x Gender Neutral!reader]

Individual Stories

Triple Frontier

"Every Kiss Begins With A Mistletoe" by @kittyofalltrades [Santi and Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"Not So Silent Night" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Office Party Love" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader] 🍬

Sleepy Benny by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] 🍬

"I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"An Unexpected Discovery" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Benny's Favorite Librarian" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Before I Go" by @cowboystokes (deactivated) [Benny x Black!Reader (Co-Parents)]

"Drunk Poetry" by @violentdelightsandviolentends [Benny x female reader - Content warning: cursing and alcohol mention] 🍬

"I see my shot" by @writefightandflightclub [Benny x female reader - Content warnings: alcohol, mildly steamy making-out, swearing, “unrequited” feelings and implied possible public sex acts (fade to black).] ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

"I've loved you three summers now, honey, I want them all." by @bullet-prooflove [Benny x Reader]

"Disinhibition" by @busycryin [Benny x Reader - Content warning: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex] 🍬

"Slow Motion" by @miss-beep-beep [Benny x Viet!OFC - Content Warning - some cursing and kisses] 🍬❤️‍🩹

Four Brothers

"Hopper saves a boy’s pieces, Joyce puts him back together" by @imeanwhynotbruv (Jack Mercer Stranger Things AU/crossover - TW: abuse)

"Number" by @jackmercerenthuiast (Jack Mercer x Reader - Content warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, suggestive language, and gang violence)

Tron: Legacy

"Masks" by @ivorydragoness44 [Sam Flynn x Reader] ❤️‍🩹

"iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours." by @solar-siren [Sam Flynn x Tron] 🍬

Tulsa King

More from other movies/shows/projects in the new masterlist

[dameronscopilot]

Asking Mitch Keller about his bullriding days turns into either him giving you a cock riding lesson or you showing him how good at it you are already

(i love the way you think, nonnie)

Just Like That

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: One thing leads to another during a conversation about Mitch's days on the circuit, and you find yourself straddling his lap as the ex-bull rider gives you the ride of your life.

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, cockwarming, praise kink

“Honey, no offense, but you’d get bucked right off.”

You cross your arms with a huff, and Mitch chuckles, mustache twitching as the corners of his lips curve upward in amusement.

Ever since you secured the weekly Sunday night performance spot at Bred 2 Buck—in which you regularly play a laid back acoustic set for the tail end of the weekend’s mellow crowd—you’ve fallen into a quick and easy friendship with the bar’s owner, Mitch Keller. 

Following your set this evening, you had found yourself seated at the bar counter, absorbed in conversation with him about his famed bull riding days. And though you’d brought up the topic at hand partially because you were incredibly curious about his time on the circuit, you also did it for a much more self-serving reason: it gave you the opportunity to experience the way his blue eyes lit up with fondness upon recalling the memories, a boyish grin that left your heart fluttering in your chest tracking its way across his face.

When last call rolled around, your discussion was far from over, as you found yourself hanging on to Mitch’s every word (and each movement of his lips, if you were being honest) as he regaled a particularly harrowing rodeo story. And thus he’d invited you back to his place for the first time, which is how you now find yourself seated in his living room, arguing over your own potential merits as a bull rider.

“I feel like I’d last for a couple of seconds at least,” you protest. “I rode a mechanical bull once.”

“That…definitely ain’t the same thing,” he replies, running a hand over his beard.

Mitch raises an eyebrow when you stand up and stride over to where he’s seated on the couch, reaching out and plucking his hat off of his head, tossing it onto the coffee table behind you.

“Show me what it’s like, then.”

Hoping like hell you haven’t been misreading whatever’s been quietly simmering between the two of you for weeks on end, you climb into Mitch’s lap and straddle his thighs, letting your knees press down into the couch cushion as the skirt of your dress rides upward.

He goes still, clearly not having anticipated this particular turn of events, and his gaze bores into yours for a moment as he waits to see if you’re serious.

When you wiggle for emphasis, he darts his tongue out of his mouth, running it over his teeth as he grins, looking down and shaking his head. “You sure? Think I might be a little out of practice, darlin’. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

You catch the double meaning of his words, and some small part of you preens upon receiving this knowledge—the fact that, although many of the women that waltz into that bar do so with sultry hopes of going home with its handsome owner (something you quickly learned once you started playing there), success clearly hasn’t been on their side.

“Well let’s get you back in the saddle then, cowboy,” you smirk, toying with a lock of hair that’s come loose and fallen across his forehead. 

Bringing his large hands up to tentatively rest across the tops of your thighs, he tilts his head to the side, appraising you. “You got that backwards, ‘cause you’re the one in the saddle tonight.”

He rocks his hips upward just enough to throw you off balance, amusement rumbling in his chest when you pitch forward slightly. 

As you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to regain your balance, he tuts, “One hand. And it should be down here.”

Mitch takes one of your hands and places it over his belt, encouraging you to wrap your fingers around the leather. Remembering what constitutes a typical bull rider pose, you raise your left hand and let it hover in the air.

“Like this?”

The tone of his voice drips down your spine like molasses when he drawls, “Yeah, honey. Just like that.”

With his palms face down on either side of him, Mitch leans back and spreads his thighs slightly wider underneath you before he begins to roll his hips once more. His steady gaze remains focused on yours, watching the way you continuously fall out of sync with his movements.

“Move with me,” he instructs.

You heed his words, and as he begins to increase his pace, you fall into a smooth rhythm rocking in the cradle of his hips. But your focus begins to wane as you feel the evidence of his growing erection, the denim of his jeans pressing firmly into the sheer tights covering the wet warmth at the apex of your thighs with each and every thrust.

When Mitch ruts upward particularly hard, an involuntary gasp leaves your lips at the pleasure that rockets down your spine. Unable to stop yourself, you tug hard on his belt as you grind back down against his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, starting to lose his composure.

Bringing his hands up to grasp your hips, he holds you tightly in place as he repeats his last movement, his heated gaze locked on your own. You thread your free hand into his hair, relishing the softness of his long locks for a moment before tugging his head backward as you take your turn chasing the friction of his shaft against your mound.

His mouth falls open slightly when do you so, and between one breath and the next, Mitch’s hands are cupping your face as he surges forward, lips seeking yours out in a hungry, belated kiss. The ache between your thighs begins to throb as his plush lips slide against yours, one hand sliding down to curl around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your exposed collar bone. 

You let your jaw relax for Mitch when his tongue flirts with the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss, and at the feeling of his hand trailing down to stake claim over your lower back just above the swell of your ass, you desperately arch your body into him. 

“Mitch,” you whimper, panting as he nips at your bottom lip.

“What do you want, honey?” he asks calmly, as if he’s entirely unaware of the way your slick arousal has begun to seep through your underwear, leaving a damp mark where you’ve frantically been rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.

Fingers skating across his belt buckle, you cup his shaft and squeeze. “I want you to fuck me while you’re showing me how to ride you.”

Mitch smirks, pushing up the skirt of your dress and letting both of his hands encircle the bend between your hips and your thighs, thumbs teasing where your stockings are now sopping wet. He groans appreciatively, reaching out and pinching the material between his fingers.

“Think we’re gonna need to get these off first then.”

“Just rip them, I don’t care,” you whine, too impatient to climb off of him. 

Clearly just as into the idea as you are, Mitch doesn’t hesitate to reach into his back pocket, flipping open his pocket knife. You sit still as he carefully grasps a fistful of the wet nylon, tugging it forward before slicing a hole into it, a fresh gush of arousal leaking into your underwear at the sight. He hooks a finger in your panties, and you shiver as the digit brushes against your folds.

“Hell, you’re so fuckin’ wet, honey,” he rasps, leaning forward to kiss you again while he slips his finger into your entrance.

The tension coiled within your gut squeezes tighter as he leans forward to kiss you languidly, adding a second finger and pumping them both in and out of your needy cunt. He swallows down the breathy moans that leave your lips, mouth moving with yours while you hastily reach out to take off his belt, tossing it aside before prying open his jeans.

He matches your moans of pleasure with his own when you wrap your fingers around his shaft, though the sounds briefly morph to amusement when you stop kissing him to glance down between the two of you with wide eyes. Your mouth begins to water as you drink in the sight of the long, thick cock in your hands, and your pussy aches with need at the thought of him splitting your tight little cunt open with it. 

Unable to wait any longer, you lift your body and line yourself up with the tip of his cock. Mitch’s fingers press into the sides of your thighs as you hover above him, and he looks up at you with lust-blown eyes while you begin to sink down onto his shaft. 

The living room is filled with a chorus of moans from your lips and his own as his cock slowly disappears into your body, inch by inch. Once his length is fully swallowed into the warmth of your cunt, he lets out a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair.

“You take me so damn good, sweetheart.”

Pleasure shoots down your spine at the praise, stoking the growing fire in your gut. 

Leaning in, you let your lips hover over his as you murmur, “Now show me how a real cowboy rides.”

Mitch’s lips come crashing into yours, and he grabs your hips, pulling you upward as he drags his cock out of your channel teasingly slow, only to slam it right back in. You barely have time to cry out before he does it again, sending a numbing wave of pleasure through your body as he ruthlessly splits your weeping cunt open.

With one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping at his shoulder, you hold on tightly as Mitch begins to give you the fucking ride of your life, hips snapping up into yours at a brutal pace as he plunges in and out of your fluttering hole, your soaking wet cunt squelching with each pounding thrust. 

Mitch’s cock is so goddamn massive, the steady pressure as he drags it through your inner walls has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes while you writhe in his lap. But it feels so fucking good. You’re never felt so full in your life. 

You’re a moaning, whimpering, cock drunk mess, and he kisses you bruisingly as he reaches up to wipe away a stray tear that’s sliding down your cheek.

“You look fuckin’ beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and rough.

At that, the pressure building inside of you bursts in a gushing wave of pleasure, and you grab onto Mitch desperately as your limbs tremble with the force of it. Soft, warm praise falls from his mouth as he fucks you through your climax, the words a direct contrast to the way he roughly continues to ravage your sensitive hole.

On the edge of his own orgasm, Mitch goes to lift you off of him, but you remain firmly in place as you plead, "I wanna feel you come inside of me.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at your request, and you cry out when he obliges, driving the full length of his shaft deep into you once more. Fingers digging into your hip bones, Mitch’s cock pulses while he empties himself inside of you, hot ropes of cum painting your inner walls as he fills you with his release. 

You collapse forward, leaning your head against his chest, and Mitch holds you tightly in his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you remain nestled comfortably in his lap, in no rush to move anytime soon—not even when his cock begins to soften in your channel, dribbles of cum leaking out of your sensitive hole. 

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» MITCH KELLER MASTERLIST

» GARRETT HEDLUND MASTERLIST

[campingwiththecharmings]

*These weren't necessarily written and/or posted in January, but that's when I read them so lol*

🔥 - explicit/mature content

Star Wars

🔥Aphelion (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @oscarseyebrow

Salt and Sky (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @clints-lucky-arrow

Pretending (or not) (Cassian Andor x Reader) - @dameronscopilot

Taking Flight (Modern!Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

Undoing (College!Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @groguspicklejar

🔥Corner Booth (Din Djarin x F!Reader) - @magpie-to-the-morning

🔥Tender Loving Care (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @clints-lucky-arrow

Risky Kiss (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @dailyreverie

🔥Tender (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

I'm Scared / 🔥Safe and Sound (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @the-little-ewok

You Are In Love (Modern!Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @alwritey-aphrodite

Triple Frontier

🔥Illicit Affair (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

🔥I’ll Be Back Again To Stay (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @alwritey-aphrodite

Home is a Person (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @tropes-and-tales

🔥Thank Me Later (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @writefightandflightclub

🔥Big Red Bow (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @villainvindicator

Fairy Godmother (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @tropes-and-tales

Home (Santiago Garcia x Reader) - @bullet-prooflove

🔥Good Form (Benny Miller x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

🔥Watercolor Eyes / Blocked by the Snow (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @psychedelic-ink

🔥Take Care (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @wyn-n-tonic

🔥Patience (Benny Miller x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

Moon Knight

Nocturnal | To Be Alone (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @moonlight-prose

🔥First Time (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @luvpedropascal

Cute Aggression (Steven Grant x Reader) - @kittyofalltrades

🔥Fast Lane (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @shewhohangsoutincemeteries

Stone Heart (Steven Grant x Demisexual!Reader) - @magpie-to-the-morning

🔥Fire & Desire (Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @marc-spectorr

🔥Friends (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @foreverinadais

A Sunday Kind of Love (Marc Spector x Reader) - @moonlight-prose

First Snow (Jake Lockley x Reader) - @softlyspector

🔥Forbidden Delights (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

🔥Spirals and Skin (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @clints-lucky-arrow

Purloin (Marc Spector x Reader) - @laters-gators

🔥Say It Too (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @astroboots

🔥Gold Skinned and Eager (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @fettuccin-e

Tales Untold (Marc Spector x Reader) - @softlyspector

Egg Fried Rice (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

A Simple Misunderstanding (Jake Lockley x Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Do You Want to Dance? (Steven Grant x Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Ex Machina

Amende Honorable (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @laters-gators

The Last of Us

🔥Mule (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @laters-gators

🔥Radio Static (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @foli-vora

🔥The Light is Blinding (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @writefightandflightclub

🔥Code Breaker (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @inklore

🔥Told (Joel Miller x F!Reader) - @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Tulsa King

🔥Just Like That (Mitch Keller x F!Reader) - @dameronscopilot

The Bourne Legacy

Long Promised Road (David/Outcome 3 x Reader) - @nowritingonthewall

Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️

*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.

**If you'd like to have your fic removed from the list, I completely understand, just let me know

[triplefrontierbabe]

hi babes, I’m desperately in need of Garrett Hedlund fics, specifically Benny Miller or Mitch Keller 🫠

Edit: looking for f!reader x Garrett / character

any suggestions or accounts are greatly appreciated 😽😽😽

[dameronscopilot]

Mitch Keller and having you ride his face tell you squirt and then you panic cause you never did it that

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Content: NSFW 18+, oral sex, squirting, anal fingering

“You taste so fuckin’ good," Mitch drawls before lapping another broad stroke through your slick folds, running his tongue through the arousal seeping from your throbbing cunt.

His fingers dig tightly into the backs of your thighs as he teases your fluttering entrance, and you moan when he probes his way inside of your tight channel. The bed creaks as you reach out to steady yourself against the headboard, shamelessly rocking your hips down onto Mitch’s face as he fucks you with his tongue. His beard scrapes against your skin as he pauses to nip at your inner thigh, lips and chin coated in both his saliva and your juices. 

Heat spreads under your skin when he latches back onto your mound, sloppily mouthing at your folds and sucking on your clit. A whimper falls from your mouth as he adjusts his grip to drag you against his face, large hands palming the globes of your ass. 

Mitch doesn’t hold back when he eats you out; he never does. The taste of your dripping cunt on his lips—and the way you shamelessly writhe and keen under the hungry assault of his tongue—is enough to make him come untouched in his pants.

And while he often tries to stave off his release, as he’d rather fill your overstimulated hole to the brim with cum after you’ve gushed on his tongue, there’s something deliciously filthy about the way you’ll reach into his cum-soaked boxers to coax his spent cock back to life just so you can take him into your mouth until he spills himself again down the back of your throat.

He slides one hand down to your pussy, running his fingers through the soaking wet mess he’s made down there before bringing it back to cup your ass. Your breath hitches as he spreads your cheeks, muscles tightening when he rubs circles around your puckered rim with the tip of a spit-soaked digit. Taking the way you grind down hard onto his face as a sign that you want more, he slowly begins to slide a finger into your ass while his tongue massages your cunt, and you let out a choked sob of pleasure.

You know he’s going slow to allow your tight ring of muscle time to adjust to the stretch of his thick finger, but it feels so fucking good tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, a line of drool slipping down your chin. Desperate for more stimulation, you rock back into his finger, gasping as you lodge the digit deeply into your hole up to the knuckle. Mitch groans appreciatively at how eager you are for him, how needy. How desperate. 

“You want more?”

“Please, baby,” you whine.

He doesn’t hesitate to obligate your request, working your ass open even further with a second finger as he brings his free hand forward, replacing his tongue with his fingers. He plunges them into your channel, crooking the digits and stroking your sensitive, spongy wall.

And with two of Mitch’s fingers stuffed in your ass while he strokes the inner walls of your cunt, the smoldering embers in your abdomen ignite, raging through your body in a wildfire. Your orgasm crests in a wave of pleasure, and you cry out as your body trembles while you come undone, clear fluid gushing from your entrance.

Your face burns with embarrassment—you just fucking squirted all over Mitch’s goddamn face. 

“I’ve…I’ve never…” you trail off, biting your lower lip.

Mitch swiftly slides out from under you and sits up, gaze hooded as he cups your face in both of his hands. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare try to apologize for that.”

“But—”

“That’s the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen, honey,” he clarifies, and you belatedly realize just how rough and wrecked his voice sounds. “And...fuckin’ hell, I can’t wait to make you do it again.”

--

» MITCH KELLER MASTERLIST

» GARRETT HEDLUND MASTERLIST

[dameronscopilot]

only a prompt if you're interest but that gifset of mitch wiggling around in a booth is making me think of mitch getting a blowjob under the table

Under the Table

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: Mitch is taking far too long to close up the bar for the evening, so you let him know how just how impatient you are to head home.

Word Count: 1.3k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, blowjob, allusion to oral sex (f!receiving) and unprotected p in v

Soft, muted music plays quietly over the bar speakers as another busy evening comes to a close. After locking the front door, you untie the knot at the back of your apron and toss it over a chair before striding over to where Mitch is seated at a table, a pen cap nestled between his teeth as he writes down next week’s supply order in a notebook. 

You flick the bill of his cap as you’re walking past him, but his arm shoots out and wraps around your waist, stopping you in your tracks. He pulls you closer to him, and the lip of the table presses against you as he glances up at you with a small smile on his face, fingers still lingering against your hip. 

Thumbing at the waistband of your jeans, he taps the lined sheet of paper with his pen and says, “I’ll be done with this in ten minutes or so, then we can head out.”

You raise an eyebrow, knowing damn well that’s a lie. “Only ten minutes?”

“I promise, darlin’,” he winks, squeezing your backside for good measure. 

When twenty minutes have passed and Mitch has yet to move, eyes intently trained on the ancient calculator sitting in front of him as his fingers hover over the buttons, you take matters into your own hands, quietly approaching him and dropping to the floor under the guise that you’re picking something up. 

“What’re you doin’?” he drawls as he realizes you’ve crawled underneath the table.

“Keeping busy,” you answer, reaching up and placing a hand on his knee.

You hear the hitch in Mitch’s breath as you trail your fingers up the inside of his thigh, and he chuckles, “Think we’ve got a bed for this, honey. Or somewhere in the house, at least.”

Letting out a huff of air, you cup Mitch’s dick through his jeans, and he groans quietly as you retort, “Mitch Keller, you’ve fucked me on top of just about every surface in this godforsaken building. Including the pool table.”

“Floor’s damn dirty though,” he remarks, though you don’t miss the way he slowly spreads his thighs further apart and slides forward slightly in his chair as you run a finger along the edge of his belt buckle.

“You just keep working on those numbers,” you murmur, undoing his belt and working open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

A sound of amused disbelief leaves Mitch’s mouth when you begin to inch your fingers along the waistband of his boxers—like he could even fathom attempting to concentrate on anything but the feeling of your hand dipping inside of the material and wrapping around his hard shaft. 

Mitch shifts his hips when you pull his dick out and run your thumb over the precum leaking from the tip, as if he has to physically restrain himself from the urge to pull you into his lap. And although the mere idea of him bunching up your dress before he plunges his length inside of your dripping cunt has you clenching your thighs together, you’re too eager to get his flushed, throbbing cock inside of your mouth right now. 

His cum will be dripping down your thighs before you get home anyway, one way or another. You’ll likely make it as far as the parking lot before he’s fucking you senseless in the front seat of his beat up old truck, his large hands firmly planted on your hips as you ride him, bouncing in his lap hard enough that the frame of the vehicle will be creaking in protest. 

And when you get home, he’ll take advantage of your aforementioned bed with his face buried between your legs, lapping at your sensitive, quivering cunt until you’ve made a proper mess of his beard and mustache. 

But right now, you want nothing more than to suck Mitch’s dick, and your mouth’s watering at the thought of taking his generous length into the wet heat of your throat. 

You lean forward to lap at the tip of his cock, where a fresh bead of precum has formed, and you hear the sound of a pen clattering onto the surface of the table above you. Smirking, you spit into your palm, your hand easily sliding over his length as you begin to languidly stroke it. The table slides backward slightly when Mitch drops his elbows down, leaning heavily against it while your tongue laps broad strokes up and down the sides of his shaft. 

Mitch moans when you begin to play with his balls while you continue to make a sloppy mess of his dick with your saliva, one hand tightly gripping the edge of the table. When you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, his hips twitch involuntarily, and you swirl your tongue around it, causing him to rock upward even harder.

A satisfied sound leaves you at the feeling of Mitch shoving his cock even deeper down your throat, and he groans at the vibration that flutters along his length when you do so. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” Mitch grunts, bringing one hand down to rest against your head.

Drool begins to run down your chin as you bob up and down on his length, taking him so far into your mouth that the coarse hairs at the base of his dick brush against the tip of your nose. Encouraged by the way his fingers caress the curve of your jaw and slide over the side of your neck, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, you begin to suck his cock with fervor, your slick, parted lips firmly latched around him.

You nearly choke at the feeling of his shaft butting up against the back of your throat when he bucks his hips—you know what he wants.

His chest heaves slightly when you pull off of him, a line of spit running from your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. Mitch shivers when you run a tight fist down his slippery length as you press a kiss to his inner thigh, nipping at his skin.

“You wanna fuck my mouth, Mitch?” you ask.

Mitch lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and moan. “You fuckin’ know I do, sweetheart.”

With his feet planted firmly on the floor, he uses one hand to steady himself against the table as he grips the back of your head with the other while you slide your swollen lips over his cock once more. You glance up at him to find him staring down at you, pupils blown wide with lust, and he steadily begins to push his length further inside.

“Takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs as he pulls back a bit, only to roughly plunge back in, causing you to gag slightly. 

He doesn’t pause or slow down, because he knows you love this part. 

He knows you love when he fucks your mouth like this—hard and fast while you’re choking on his cock, tears running down the side of your face and drool on your chin. You can take it. He knows you can.

It’s why he’s forcing your head down onto his shaft while you reach one hand under your dress to feel the arousal pooling between your legs, both of you moaning in unison as he repeatedly sinks as deep into your mouth as he possibly can.

And as his hips begin to stutter, you hold fast while his climax washes over him, swallowing down each rope of cum that he spills down your throat. When you release his spent shaft, cum dribbles along your bottom lip, and Mitch reaches out, swiping it off with his thumb and sliding the digit into your mouth for you to lick it off. 

“Ready to go home now?” you ask, smiling as you lean your head against his thigh.

Mitch goes to stand, swiftly pulling you up from the floor and brushing off the front of your dress. He runs a finger under your chin, leaning in to kiss you gently.

Briefly glancing back down at the unfinished work left on the table beside you, his eyes drift back to yours, and he darts his tongue out, licking his lips as he grins. "You drive a hard bargain, honey. Let's go."

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» MITCH KELLER MASTERLIST

» GARRETT HEDLUND MASTERLIST

[dameronscopilot]

Mitch Keller? Mustache rides?

nonnie ily for coming into my inbox to talk about Mitch!!!

a quick break

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: Mitch pulls you into his office to show you exactly how he feels about what you wore to work.

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Word Count: <1k

Content: NSFW, smut, established relationship, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie

“Fuckin’ hell, honey.”

Mitch’s voice is rough, the curve of his drawl dragging its way up your spine as he pauses for a moment to breathe, fingers digging firmly into your thighs. 

The leather supporting your knees creaks in protest as you shift slightly from where you’re straddling Mitch’s face on the small loveseat tucked into the corner of his office at the bar. It can’t be comfortable, the way most of his body is hanging off of the piece of furniture, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Outside of the locked office door, patrons are loud and rowdy, and you mentally note that you still need to get drinks for tables 5 and 6. It's a holiday weekend full of all-day specials, and you and your fellow waitresses have been nonstop on your feet.

But that'll have to wait, because when Mitch had learned that your idea of dressing up your work uniform a bit for the occasion included pairing thigh high stockings with the plain black skirt and t-shirt you usually wore, he'd nearly dropped an entire pitcher of beer across the bar counter as you waltzed in the front door for your shift.

After shredding each and every last thread of his self control over the course of a few excruciating hours, he'd finally tossed the towel slung over his shoulders onto the bar counter and drug you into his office. If anyone wasn't yet aware of the fact that you were dating your boss, he'd made it abundantly obvious by the way he'd unceremoniously slammed the door shut before dropping to his knees for you in front of the couch and lifting your skirt, fingers skating across the waistband of your panties as he mouthed at the fabric covering your mound.

"Oh fuck, Mitch," you whine as he laps another broad stroke through your folds.

He chuckles, slipping a finger inside of your tight, wet channel as he asks in a husky tone, "How'd you expect me to get any damn work done when you're walkin' around like this, sweetheart?"

One of your hands shoots out to steady yourself against the back of the couch when your legs begin to tremble as his tongue probes its way inside of your cunt, greedily licking up the slick arousal dripping out of you. And you can't help it, the way you begin to roll your hips against his mouth.

Mitch groans, "Go ahead, baby, ride my face," his grip on you loosening slightly he reaches down to roughly press the heel of one hand against the erection straining against his jeans.

And you do, breathy, shameless moans tumbling from your lips as you press down onto Mitch's hot, waiting mouth, both of his hands sliding around to squeeze the globes of your ass while he fucks you with his tongue. Appreciative sounds rumble up his throat as he tastes you deeply, mouthing his way into your needy, fluttering channel.

At the sound of a knock on the door, you know there won't be time to crawl in between Mitch's legs and take his heavy, waiting cock into your mouth. Instead, you urgently tug at his shoulders until he eases his entire body up onto the cushions, your fingers immediately going for the buttons on his jeans. His lips are shiny and wet, beard and mustache covered in traces of your arousal, and his head drops back against the couch, mouth falling open as you line yourself up and sink down onto his shaft without preamble.

It's desperate and messy, the way you bounce on his cock, the way he grabs your hips as he mercilessly fucks up into you, the way you can taste yourself on him as his lips crash into yours with a bruising, hungry kiss.

"Where?" he murmurs between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip.

"Fill me up," you breathe out, the ache between your thighs growing more insistent. "Wanna feel you inside of me for the rest of tonight while I'm running around out there."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're filthy," Mitch comments, and you can feel the grin that's spreading across his lips. "I love you."

When he begins to rub circles into your aching bundle of nerves, the heat spreading under your skin blooms white-hot, pleasure rippling through you as your orgasm crests. Mitch envelopes your mouth with his, swallowing down your wanton moans as he jerks his hips a few more times before reaching his own climax, cock pouring into you and filling your channel with his release.

Three more impatient knocks rap at the door, and you sigh, pressing one more kiss to Mitch's lips before climbing out of his lap.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» MITCH KELLER MASTERLIST

» GARRETT HEDLUND MASTERLIST

[dameronscopilot]

my ghosts are yours to keep

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: After nearly a year of skirting around your undeniable attraction to Mitch Keller, things finally come to a head one evening after the bar closes.

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk, voice kink, there’s absolutely an OSHA violation going on here

His voice is rough as he responds, his lips just barely ghosting over yours, “Because I’d ruin you.” “I beg to differ,” you whisper.

Something inside of you aches deeply whenever you look at Mitch Keller.

Beneath his easy, warm drawl and gentle demeanor, there’s so much pain and regret buried just below the surface, a lingering ghost that haunts each and every smile that crosses his lips. He doesn’t talk about it, not really. But you know it’s there, can see it in the faraway look that bleeds into his gaze when he thinks nobody’s paying attention.

But you don’t miss it.

You never do.

Mitch hired you to wait tables at Bred 2 Buck nearly a year ago when you sheepishly walked into the bar on a bustling Friday evening with your resume clutched in your hands. Following a catastrophic breakup, you’d left Chicago in a whirlwind and relocated to Tulsa with a car packed to the brim with all your belongings and no real plans save for a desperate need for a fresh start. He’d hardly finished looking over your credentials before he stood up straight from where he had been leaning against the bar countertop, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he reached out to shake your hand and asked when you could start.

Initially, you’d only intended to stick around at the bar until you found something better. But Mitch was more than happy to give you as many shifts as you liked, and the tips you raked in—paired with the considerably lower cost of living in Oklahoma—left you well off enough that you decided you weren’t really in a rush to find another job. Not anytime soon, anyway.

And if your decision was also heavily swayed by your undeniable attraction to your boss, well, nobody needed to know about that.

Try as you might to ignore it, it’s impossible to deny the instinctual pull you feel toward Mitch, as if the broken, lonely fragments inside of you ache for the kinship of his own jagged edges. And it’s by no means conducive to your own self-preservation, but some nights, you start to think that perhaps Mitch might just feel the same.

You see it in the way he steps out from behind the bar counter whenever he spies you dealing with a troublesome table, brusquely waving off the bouncer and placing his own solid frame between yours and the unruly patron in question. It’s how he says your name afterward, tentatively resting a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re alright, his soothing drawl smooth as honey and comforting as the sun peeking through the clouds after a blustering, rainy day.

You can feel it in the protective weight of his gaze as he always finds a convenient excuse to step outside for a cigarette just as you’re heading to your car on late evenings when you close with him, his eyes tracking your moments until you’ve safely made it across the parking lot. He never finishes the cigarette; it’s always stamped out under his boot by the time your tires begin crunching across the gravel.

Perhaps you’re overthinking it.

Perhaps you’re just too far gone on the way his blue eyes sparkle with mirth when you make him laugh—it’s a deep, rich sound that makes your toes curl. On the way the muscles of his exposed forearms flex when he rolls up his sleeves to work, fingers dancing a familiar pattern across glasses and bottles. On the way his hair’s begun to curl its way out from under the brim of his hat lately. On the way your name rolls off of his tongue with what you swear is fondness sometimes.

Or something close to it, anyway.

Something that sets off a dizzying flutter of emotions in your chest each time he says it.

Perhaps you’ve just taken things a step too far in romanticizing the handsome, broken man tending the bar. You’d turn yourself inside out to show him how fucked up you are on the inside, too, if it meant he’d finally let you in.

--

It’s on an otherwise unremarkable Monday evening that you finally toe the line.

Mitch has been a bit distant all night, which isn’t necessarily out of character for him from time to time, but it nags at you all the same anyway. The bar is empty, the doors are locked, and you have a few tables left before your shift is finished when you decide to poke your head into the kitchen to check on him.

His back is to you, and he’s hunched over one of the counters against the wall, his hat lying discarded beside him. Waltzing up beside him and conscious to let your shoes tap loudly enough on the tiled floors to alert him of your presence, you hip check him as you come to stand beside him.

“Hey, I’m almost finished out there. Just wanted to see if you needed any help back there,” you say gently.

He doesn’t look up at you as he responds, “Thanks, don’t worry about the rest. I’ll finish ‘em up. Give me a minute, and I’ll walk you out.”

You take in the defeated tone of his voice, the tired slump of his shoulders. The way his fingers are desperately gripping for purchase on the steel surface in front of you.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

Gruffly, he answers, “’M fine, don’t worry about it.”

But you are worried.

You’re always worried about him.

Carefully, you lay your hand over his. He doesn’t say anything, but when he glances over at you, his gaze is conflicted.

“Let me in, Mitch. Please,” you plead.

He looks back down at your hands.

“You don’t need my bullshit,” he mumbles, making to pull his hand away.

You squeeze, holding it in place as you counter, “I think I can decide what I want.”

Sliding your fingers up the back of his hand, you wrap them around his wrist, and Mitch inhales, but he doesn’t move. You lift his arm out of your way, slotting yourself between him and the counter, tilting your head to look up at him. The knot in your chest loosens at the feeling of him tentatively lacing your fingers together.

You reach out with your free hand, cupping the side of his face, and Mitch’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch and quietly laments, “I can get by most days, but sometimes I feel like I just suddenly forget how to block it all out. How to keep going.”

The honesty in his voice hits you like a ton of bricks. “It’s okay to let yourself feel it.”

He sighs, “’s easier not to, though.”

“I know,” you agree with a nod.

When Mitch’s eyes meet yours again, it’s with a burning gaze. You have your own personal demons you keep at bay day in and day out, and while you’ve only scratched the barest surface of sharing any of those details with him, he knows you’re hurting, too. He knows this is your way of telling him that you understand.

That you’ll accept him for all he has to offer.

For all he is and all that he’s been.

His expression is unreadable, so you break the silence as you ask, “What are you thinking about?” He bites down on his bottom lip, eyes darting to the ceiling as he breathes out, “Doin’ somethin’ I shouldn’t.”

His eyes slide back down to yours, your faces closer together than before, and you’re suddenly incredibly aware of the way you’re caged in between his arms, enveloped in the intoxicating, musky scent of his cologne.

“Maybe you should,” you counter, and you don’t miss the way he steals a glance at your lips.

His nose brushes against yours, his breath a warm caress on your face as he murmurs, “I tell myself every day not to.”

“Why not?”

His voice is rough as he responds, his lips just barely ghosting over yours, “Because I’d ruin you.”

“I beg to differ,” you whisper.

And Mitch finally relents, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he closes the final gap and kisses you.

Mitch’s lips are soft like his disposition, and they press into yours with a pliant, tender warmth that leaves you boneless in his arms as his other hand drifts down to clasp at your hip, pulling you close. His beard tickles your face as his lips move languidly with yours, his tongue embarking on an exploratory journey as it flirts with the seam of your mouth. He deepens the kiss as you open up for him, and you arch into his touch at the feeling of his fingers dancing along the small of your back.

Suddenly, both of his hands are at your waist as he hoists you up onto the counter, his large, warm palms burning hot like a brand through the thin material of your dress. The hem rides up high toward your hips as you spread your thighs, beckoning him to step between them.

He holds your face in both hands, dipping down to steal another kiss, and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him close. You can feel the outline of his erection pressing against you, the denim seam teasing the meager cotton panties covering your hot core. Emboldened by the jolt of arousal that zips down your spine, you reach down to run your hand over his shaft, and he groans into your mouth.

“Honey…” he drawls, voice strained as he pulls away slightly.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about doing this back here,” you say, squeezing his cock. “Because I sure have.”

His forehead drops against your shoulder as he rasps, “Fuck.”

Your fingers stroke up and down the tented denim. “I like to think about you bending me over the counter out there, too.”

“Yeah?” he asks huskily.

“Every night, Mitch.”

“Don’t tell me that,” he groans, hips bucking into where the heel of your palm is pressed firmly against his shaft.

“How come?” you ask innocently.

He leans in, nipping at your earlobe, “Because I’ll fuck you all night on every flat surface we can find in this building, sweetheart.”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe out.

Mitch rocks back on his heels slightly, looking down at you in wonder for a beat before his mouth crashes back into you with a bruising kiss, one that you can taste the hunger in as his lips slot against yours.

Hand still cupping his erection, you pop open the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper and reaching inside of his boxers. As you wrap your fingers around his cock, you nearly choke into the kiss as you feel the size of it, and he chuckles in amusement against your lips. You can’t help the way your mouth waters at the mere thought of him easing that inside of you, and you involuntarily rock your hips into him.

Mitch’s mouth leaves yours, but he firmly holds your gaze as he pushes your dress up higher and hooks his fingers in your underwear. He slides them down your legs, still staring up at you as he kisses his way from your thighs, to your knees, to your ankles, pocketing the fabric before straightening.

He grasps your ass for a moment, pulling you closer to the edge and nudging your thighs even further apart. His lips hover over yours as he drags a finger through your folds, humming appreciatively at the arousal leaking from your cunt.

“This all for me, honey?” He asks, and you nearly keen from the gravelly tone of his voice of his voice alone.

“Yeah, Mitch,” you pant out, chest already heaving as he begins to slip a single digit inside of your soaked channel.

You suck in a sharp breath when he inserts another finger, crooking them inside of you and stroking your walls before pulling both out and popping them into his mouth. His eyes fall shut for a moment as he laps off your juices.

“You taste so fuckin’ good.”

And as much as you want to feel his mouth on your cunt, his tongue lapping broad strokes up and down your slit until you’re a whimpering mess, it’ll have to wait. Not this time. Because right now, all you can think about is the feeling of him splitting you open on his cock.

He must understand that’s what you want, how desperate you are for him, how badly you need him to fuck you now. Because when you take his dick back into your hands and scoot closer to slide your folds up and down it, he kisses you hard, rutting against you for a moment before reaching down to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

He parts from your mouth for a moment, his eyes searching yours. The moment you nod, he anchors one hand against the small of your back as he presses forward and begins to sink into you. Your walls greedily clench down on the pleasurable stretch of his cock as he inches deeper and deeper inside of you, both of you panting hard once he bottoms out.

His name falls from your lips when he begins to move once more, dragging his shaft out of your cunt almost to the tip before plunging back inside with a snap of his hips. He’s so fucking big, your pussy throbs from the delicious, punishing stretch, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he feels you gripping tightly at his shoulders.

“Feels so good, Mitch,” you whine, feeling more and more cock drunk with each rough, deep thrust.

You can hear the smile spread across his lips as he drawls, “So fuckin’ pretty on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your muscles tighten in tandem with the tension coiling in your gut at the praise, and Mitch is quick to clock the way your mouth falls open, lips parted and eyes slightly glazed over as he continues to sink into your cunt. He hums lowly, the sound a pleasant rumble in his throat, one hand reaching up as he brushes his thumb across the curve of your jaw.

“You gonna come for me, honey?” he asks, his deep voice stoking the fire crawling through your veins.

You nod, your legs trembling slightly as you begin to lose your composure.

Mitch reaches down, rubbing circles into your throbbing clit, and when he murmurs, “Good girl,” you fall apart, your climax washing over you as your walls spasm and contract around his cock.

Mitch drives his length into you with one last powerful thrust before pulling out, moaning as ropes of cum spill from his cock, splashing your thighs and dripping down to the floor below. Once the last of his seed finishes leaking out, he leans forward and kisses you again, softly this time.

When he pulls away, a boyish smile tugs at his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he tilts his head and asks, “You free tonight?”

You laugh, reaching out to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulling his mouth back to yours.

“For you? Always.”

—

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[dameronscopilot]

Mitch Kellers reaction to his wife/gf telling him during sex she wants a baby?

idle daydreams

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: You tell Mitch you want to have a baby while you're in the middle of having sex. He has several feelings on the matter.

Word Count: 800+ Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, soft and filthy, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, creampie, breeding kink, lactation kink

“Let’s have a baby.”

Mitch swears he’s hearing things when those four words spill out between the breathy little moans and pants steadily falling from your pretty lips. He pauses, shaft halfway buried within the wet heat of your channel, your legs bent over his shoulders.

“What?” he asks, slightly dazed.

“I think we should start trying,” you clarify, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair.

His eyes fall closed for a moment, head leaning slightly into your touch as he takes a deep breath to steady the assault of emotions blooming deep in his chest.

Mitch Keller has been many things: a son, a musician, an almost-famous bull-rider, an accidental addict, a foolish criminal, a repentant convict, a bar owner, and now—though he still doesn’t quite believe it sometimes—a husband. Your husband.

But a father?

There came a point when Mitch stopped entertaining the idle daydream of having a family of his own someday, because there’s a part of him that’s convinced he doesn’t deserve it.  

Half the time, he doesn’t even think he deserves you.

Knowing all too well where his mind is headed, you interrupt his thoughts as your fingertips caress the curve of his jaw, “You’d make an incredible father.”

“You think so?” he asks, the low, rough tone of his voice telling you just how affected he is by your words.

You reach out to grasp his hip, tugging him forward so his cock sinks deeper inside of you, and you both groan when he bottoms out.

“I know so.”

Mitch leans down, folding your body entirely in half to slot his mouth over yours, hand cupping the side of your face as your knees press into your chest. He kisses you thoroughly, cock still lodged within your hot core.

“You don’t know how much it means to hear that,” he breathes out, lips ghosting over yours.

You smile, pressing another kiss to his lips as you whisper, “Take off the condom and put a baby in me, Mitch.”

Rocking your hips up into him for emphasis, Mitch groans, cock twitching inside of you at the thought. He sits up, pulling his shaft from your channel and tossing the lubricated rubber aside. After running into several issues with your oral contraceptives, you’ve been the midst of giving your body a rest from them for the past few months. 

—and while it hadn’t been your initial intention, the absence of your birth control had suddenly sent your mind mulling over the idea of starting a family with your husband.

Mitch notches the tip of his shaft at your fluttering entrance, and as he's swallowed into the tight, wet heat of your cunt, both of you moan in unison at the delicious slide of the skin of his bare cock within your walls once more. 

“Fuckin’ hell, honey. I missed how good your pretty little pussy feels,” he groans huskily. 

“I missed feeling you come inside of me,” you whine, gasping as he folds your body back over again and begins to increase the pace of his thrusts. “We’re gonna have to do this every day to make sure it takes.”

A feral wave of arousal clenches in Mitch’s gut at the thought—spilling his seed deep inside of your womb until your belly is round. Filling you to the brim with his release morning and night. Watching it leak down your thighs as you try to keep it all in. Sloppily, desperately fucking the cum right back inside of you till your pussy clenches down and milks his cock for even more. 

Mitch’s eyes follow the movement as you run a hand over one of your breasts, and his thoughts veer elsewhere. He thinks you must know where his mind has already gone, because you begin fondling them with both hands as you hold his steady gaze. 

“Yeah, Mitch. That too,” you murmur, moaning lewdly and arching your back up into him as his mouth latches onto one of your breasts. 

Mitch is dizzy with need, and maybe it’s a little fucked up, but when a lustful, choked out sob leaves your throat once he begins to suck on your nipple, he knows you’re thinking about it, too—

The idea of him cupping your tender, swollen tits, thumbs running over your nipples, mouth swooping in to lap up the milk dribbling out. The cry of relief you’ll let out at the feeling of it. The way he won’t hesitate to drink from your breasts with fervor as your hands scramble to free his cock from the confines of his pants, insistently dragging his hips toward your drenched slit, begging to be fucked while he does it. 

Your fingers dig tightly into his back as the liquid heat of your climax pulses through your abdomen, your walls spasming rapidly around his cock. Mitch’s hips piston roughly into yours for several more thrusts until the tension coiled within him snaps, his muscles tensing as his shaft pulses inside of you, painting your walls with his release.

—

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[dameronscopilot]

Somebody's Someone

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: In which you discover your feelings for Mitch Keller might not be so one-sided after all on a fateful New Year's Eve spent working at the bar.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, first kiss, fingering, the rings stay on, protective Mitch

Prompt: New Year's Eve kiss

DECK THE HALLS MASTERLIST

When the clock strikes midnight on a bustling, rowdy New Year’s Eve at Bred 2 Buck, couples, friends, and strangers alike all raise their glasses. People lean in, exchanging a variety of kisses—chaste ones, playful ones, meaningful ones, and downright lewd ones from a select few that are a few too many drinks deep. 

As the scene plays out in front of you, your hands pause in their endeavor to wipe down the table you’re currently clearing off, and despite your best efforts not to, you can’t help the way your gaze strays to a certain someone standing behind the bar. Your face heats up when you find that Mitch is already looking in your direction, and he tips his hat, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he turns away to serve a customer. 

In the months since you began waitressing at the bar, it’s proven to be a chore in and of itself to ignore just how attracted to him you are. A mutual friend that heard you were in need of a job had referred you, talking you up enough that Mitch wasn’t even concerned about interviewing you first, so you didn’t end up meeting him until you arrived for your first day at work. 

Professionalism be damned, your heart had skipped a beat when he’d stepped out from the counter to greet you that afternoon, all rolled-up sleeves and soulful blue eyes, hair curling out from underneath his hat. If that wasn’t enough, you were well and truly fucked at the sound of your name on his lips as he shook your hand—his warm drawl stroking each and every letter like hot molasses. 

But Mitch Keller is your boss, and even if none of the various rings adorning his fingers indicate that he’s a married man, you’re certain he has someone he goes home to at night. After all, how could a man like him not? 

And thus you’ve let your feelings for him simmer hopelessly, tucked away in a liminal space, one that aches with yearning far more often than you care to admit. 

It almost feels awkward to carry on working amongst the rousing public displays of affection that follow the end of the countdown—as if Mitch can somehow feel the longing that's boiling over inside of you each time your eyes pass over his form, momentarily transfixed watching his fluid movements as he works. As if he can see the images passing through your head, all the places inside of the bar that you've imagined him pulling you aside, finally taking you into his arms to kiss you.

As you’re leaning against the counter waiting for Mitch to pass you drinks for a table, a man that’s been leering at you on and off all night spins around on his stool, nodding in your direction.

“You got a New Year’s kiss, baby?” he asks, words slurring into one another.

You ignore him—patrons like this are a dime a dozen, especially when they’re drunk. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on Mitch as he makes his way back over to where you’re standing, several glasses gathered in his arms. 

“Playin’ hard to get, I like it,” the man laughs gruffly, taking a long pull from his cup.

Mitch places the drinks on the tray for you, and you offer him a small smile before beginning to walk away, but you turn back around at the feeling of something tugging on the apron wrapped around your waist.

“I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” The flirtatious edge is gone from his voice, lips curled upward in a sneer. 

No sooner than the words have left his mouth, the man lets out an undignified yelp. Mitch is leaning over the bartop, one hand firmly gripping the spot where the man’s neck meets his shoulder. 

“You can leave,” Mitch says cooly. 

Gesturing toward his half-empty glass, the man argues, “Ain’t finished with my drink.”

His face contorts in pain as Mitch tightens his hold on him. “I don’t fuckin’ care. Get out.”

Throwing both hands in the air, the man stands up, brusquely shrugging out of Mitch’s grip and muttering to himself as he shuffles off toward the door. You watch him go for a moment, heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“You okay?” There’s a tentative touch against your forearm as Mitch comes to stand beside you, tossing the towel in his hands over his shoulder. 

Offering him another smile, you nod. “Yeah, thanks Mitch.” 

He looks like he wants to say more, but a customer waves him down, and he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly before walking away.

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful in comparison, but by the time the bar clears out, you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re alone with Mitch. You’re in the middle of refilling a salt shaker when you hear his boots scuff against the floor as he comes to stand beside you.

He begins to fill one of the other shakers lined up on the table and comments, “Thanks for stayin’ late tonight to help out. You didn’t have to.”

You nudge him with your arm, scoffing, “Two of the girls called in sick. You know I’d never hang you out to dry like that.”

Mitch shrugs, tightening the cap on the container. “I feel bad though, I’m sure you had plans.”

Snorting, you straighten the napkin holder. “Yeah right. I feel bad for you though. I’m sure someone’s not happy to have you coming home so late tonight.”

He scratches the back of his head. “There’s…no someone.”

“Oh, I just figured…”

Waving you off, he responds gruffly, “Nah, just hasn’t really been on my mind lately between my dad and taking care of the bar. Nobody wants to get involved with someone like me, anyway.”

“That’s not true.”

Mitch pauses, turning to look at you, his expression unreadable. “You don’t need to butter me up, sweetheart. I know who I am.”

The few feet of space between the two of you feels cavernous in the silence of the room, and you take a step forward. “I mean it.”

He moves toward you, the toe of his boot nudging your shoe as he further closes the gap. “What’re you tryin’ to say?”

Well, fuck it.

“That I still need a New Year’s kiss.”

His eyes widen for a moment. And for as many times as you’ve imagined it, nothing can quite compare to the way Mitch’s gaze burns into yours as he lifts a hand to cup the side of your face, his thumb stroking your jaw. 

“You sure about that?” he asks, 

“Yeah, Mitch. I’m sure. Been thinking about it all night.” 

He tilts his head slightly, a lazy grin tracking its way across his lips. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot longer than that, honey.”

And he leans in, his lips hovering over yours for a moment before sliding his hand further along your face, fingers brushing the back of your neck as his thumb rests against your earlobe. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Mitch closes the gap, kissing you softly.

Warmth blooms in your chest as he brings his other hand up, cradling your face while his lips slide against your own. There’s familiarity in the way Mitch kisses you, regardless of the fact that this is the very first time it’s ever happened, like perhaps he’s spent just as much time memorizing the curve of your lips as you have with his.

You let your mouth fall open for him, and the kiss grows deep and heated. There's a fervent hunger in the way Mitch's mouth claims yours, one that nearly has you swaying on your feet as you yield to it.

The back of Mitch's knees bump into a chair as you press into him, and he sits down, swiftly pulling you into his lap. Your legs straddle his waist as he wraps his arms around you. At this angle, the bill of his hat bumps into your face, and he chuckles as you bat it off of his head and onto the table beside you. 

You bring your lips back to his, reveling in the feeling of his beard and mustache as they scrape against your face—and your mind wanders as you begin to imagine how they would feel pressed against other parts of your body. 

With Mitch’s hands gripping your hip bones and your body molded against his while he kisses you hard, you shift yourself slightly in his lap. Heat courses through your abdomen as you feel something firm press at the apex of your thighs, and you roll your hips into the sensation. Mitch groans into your mouth when you grind down on his erection, fingers slipping up under your shirt as he splays his large hand flat across the small of your back.

“Mitch,” you whine quietly as he anchors you against him, pushing up into you. 

“What d’you need, sweetheart?” 

You grasp his free hand, placing it against the front of your jeans, keening as he slides two fingers across the taught seam. He takes your bottom lip into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, and he cups your mound at the same time that he bites down, sending a scorching sensation down your spine.

He flicks the button of your pants open with his thumb, slowly dragging down the zipper before hooking a finger on the waistband of your underwear. His lips blaze a trail across your cheek and down your neck as he slips his hand inside, an appreciative groan rumbling in his throat when his fingers encounter your slick folds.

“Like this?” he asks, teasingly running a finger along your slit. He begins to suck at the skin on your collarbone, setting your nerves alight. 

“More,” you pant, rocking into his touch.

Mitch slides a digit into your entrance, and you gasp at the cold feeling of the ring on his finger pressing into your cunt. 

“You want me to take–”

“Leave it on,” you plead, chest heaving.

Mitch lets out a hum of approval, letting the digit slide further inside of you, the cool feeling of metal a direct contrast to your warm, wet channel. You shiver at the sensation, moaning as he twists his hand slightly, letting divots in the large emblem on the ring rub against your walls.

His voice is low when he asks, “You like that?” 

In response, you kiss him hard, lips slotting together messily as his mouth quickly engulfs yours. He inserts another finger into your cunt, pulling shameless sounds out of you when he crooks them, massaging your inner walls. 

You let your lips drag away from Mitch’s mouth, and he tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck to you as your teeth graze his skin. You bite down, and he moans, increasing the speed at which his fingers are pumping in and out of your soaked channel.

Mitch lifts a hand, bringing your face back to his, eyes blazing. “So fuckin’ wet. You gonna come for me?”

When you nod frantically, his thumb finds your clit, and he begins rubbing circles into it as he continues to finger fuck you mercilessly. Your limbs go taught, tension coiling firmly in your gut, and Mitch licks his way across the seam of your mouth. Jaw relaxing, you grant him access again, tongue brushing against his.

"Oh fuck," you moan into Mitch's mouth at the feeling of a third digit stretching you even further open, another cold ring slipping through your tight channel.

And when he crooks his fingers while stroking your sensitive bundle of nerves, the heat smoldering within you blazes white-hot. Mitch continues to thrust his slick fingers in and out of your cunt as you arch your back into him, riding out the waves of your orgasm.

When you collapse against him, he leaves his hand tucked inside of your pants for a moment, both of you breathing hard. You eventually lean back slightly to look at him, and he removes his fingers, not breaking eye contact with you as he slides the sticky digits into his mouth to clean them off. In turn, you snake a hand between your bodies, clasping his hard shaft.

He sucks in a sharp breath before kissing you again, and he murmurs against your lips, “Think I need to see you in my office now," gesturing toward the slightly ajar door at the back of the room.

—

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[nerdieforpedro]

This is the cutest ❤️❤️❤️ I can picture him doing this ☺️ @musings-of-a-rose

Mitch Keller + "Dance with me", pls? Love the TF boys in other things 2!!!

Mitch Keller. 1,665 words. "Dance with me." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Light undertones of dom!Mitch. Boss/employee dynamic. Mutual pining. The love is requited, they're just idiots. Garrett Hedlund as Mitch Keller is desperately underrated and I can't wait for season 2 of Tulsa King.

The bar is like a whole different place after closing. Every single night, without fail, the place goes from noisy and energetic to just being the two of you. Loud and buzzing becomes quiet and comfortable as soon as you cross the threshold after closing time. Two in the morning would be a lonely time for most people. Maybe it ought to be. Maybe it even is for Mitch Keller. You can’t be sure. But for you, two in the morning is the time you like most. When you get to be alone with the man you’ve been in love with for years.

Despite wiping down the bar top countless times during the night, there’s still a sticky film to be cleaned. Spilled liquor and beer from varying degrees of coordinated hands. Mitch knows you are watching him as the old jukebox plays and he wonders what you are thinking.

You really have to stop staring at your boss. Shit’s gonna get your fired for harassment one of these days. The music clicks over, jolting you out of your head and reminding you to clean. The floor isn’t going to sweep itself and it doesn’t matter how good Mitch’s ass look in those jeans. You’ll think about it later like you always do. But not here. Not now.

Despite the patrons paying for the songs that come over the old stereo. Mitch has a key that lets the two of you listen for free. Programming at least an hour’s worth of songs while you decompress and clean up. It had been a good night, but there’s this electric tension in the air.

Sometimes you share a single drink while you clean. Sometimes you chat about the day or about Mitch’s dad, who is the kindest landlord in the world and the reason you have this job. Sometimes you joke or bitch or play around. Tonight it seems like wanting him has you in a strangle-hold, though, so when Patsy Cline comes on the jukebox, you almost groan for the irony.

“You doing alright over there?” Mitch asks, tossing the rag into a bin and propping his hands on his trim hips.

“What?” You were staring again. Into space this time, but staring nonetheless. “Uh—yeah. Fine. Totally fine,” you lie, shaking your head and shoulders and starting to sweep again. Daydreaming — middle of the night dreaming? — about your boss needs to wait until you get home.

He chuckles and shakes his head, amazed that you don’t just give in and tell him already. The hooded glances and yearning looks only go so far and if he were a betting man – which he is – he would say you were daydreaming again. “Let’s get finished early.” He tells you. “Got something I want to do.”

“Oh—oh sure.” Something to do in the wee hours of the morning? You try not to wonder if that ex-girlfriend of his has come crawling back again, knowing that it isn’t any of your business and you have no right to be jealous even if she is. Instead you pick up the pace with an unnerved and slightly anxious energy, determined not to think about it.

Mitch caps off the beer taps and groans. “I’ve got to restock the coolers.” He tells you. “You okay to mop?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” After years in this job you could probably close the whole bar down with your eyes closed, and you nod rather than look him in the eyes, afraid to give yourself away. “If you need to go, I can finish up alone.”

“No, I’m just going to be in the back for a few minutes.” He clarifies and tosses you a grin. “I wouldn’t leave you here alone. You know that.”

“I’ll be right here when you’re done.” Without him standing there distracting you, you’ll probably work three times faster, but it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault you’re a grown woman with a completely impossible crush — it’s more than that but you can’t deal with that right now — on a man who’s so far out of your league that it’s remarkable he even remembers your name.

Mitch disappears into the back, not quite telling the truth about why he had to go back there, but he needs to bide his time. To get you finished up before he came back out.

It doesn't take you long to actually get things sorted out up front. When you had thought that you could clean this place with your eyes closed, you meant it. The jukebox turns to more upbeat songs and you work through it, reminding yourself to just get the hell through the night so you can go home and get him out of your head for a few hours. At least until you have to be back here tomorrow night. Just breathe, and sing along with Leann Rimes on the jukebox to keep yourself amused. That's what you'll do.

In the back, Mitch has basically made himself a little apartment. He doesn't need much and the bar is literally his baby, so he cleans up quickly, wanting to freshen up. When he comes back out, you have just put everything away and are obviously waiting on him to return. The song fades out and slower one starts to pour out of the speakers. "You're done." He hums quietly.

"I've had practice." It's the closest you can get to teasing him tonight, with your head swimming and your palms a little sweaty. You're not your normally boisterous self.

"You do a good job." He praises, walking closer to you and when he's right in front of you, he stops. "So I was wondering if you would do something for me." He ventures softly.

"Of course." No hesitation, no consideration. You would do anything for him.

Smiling, he holds out his hand. “Dance with me.” He orders softly, stepping closer for you to accept his offer.

“I—what?” Somehow your hand has gone up on its own, hovering over his before you even manage to process what he’s asked.

“Dance with me.” He repeats, an amused twinkle in his eyes and a curve of his lips making him appear boyish.

It’s like your brain short circuits even while your body obeys, hand settling lightly in his and feet stepping forward while your mind works in overdrive to understand. You can’t stop yourself from blurting out “Why?” despite the moment being your literal dream come true.

“Because you never ask.” He reasons easily. “And how can I kiss you without a dance first?”

Thankfully the noise that strangles in your throat is more of a squeak than a squawk, and you swallow it before it can become anything absurd or humiliating. From somewhere in the background you can hear Trisha Yearwood on the jukebox and you might be shaking a little, but your other hand finds Mitch’s shoulder just well enough that you don’t stumble. “You…” You start to catch up to the moment as he starts to move to the music, and the surprise on your face is as obvious as your breathlessness. “You…want to kiss me?”

“Been thinking about how you taste.” He admits as he moves you around the open area of the bar. Skirting the tables that now have chairs flipped up on their tops. “Have for a while.”

“I’m…” Embarrassed heat floods your cheeks, warming your entire face right down your neck and chest. “I’m even less subtle than I think I am…aren’t I?”

“‘Bout as subtle as a rattler warning off a poor bastard walkin’ barefoot.” Mitch grins at you.

“Super.” You huff at yourself, sarcasm dripping from both syllables like honey. “Thank you for bein’ nice to my dumb ass, then.”

“Wondered why you took so long.” Mitch admits. “Got impatient, so I decided to make the move.”

“Sort of thought I was invisible to you,” you admit quietly, letting him lead you through basic steps even though you know damn well the man has moves. It’s you who can’t dance for shit, so he’s being nice again.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Dead wrong.” He tells you. “Just didn’t want you to think I was a creepy boss.”

“I was the creepy employee instead, I guess,” you huff, needing to laugh so that you don’t let your cheeks get as hot as a volcano.

“Thought it was kind of cute, myself.” Mitch drawls. “But….” He lifts a brow at you teasingly. “If we’re gonna do this—” he pulls his hand off your waist to motion between the two of you, “you gotta initiate sometimes. Can’t just be me chasin’ you.” He winks. “You gotta chase back.”

Being thoroughly embarrassed but elated are apparently two sides of the same coin for you, as there is no competition between expressions on your face — just one bright, disbelieving smile that makes you feel lighter than air. “If I had known you felt this way, I would’ve said something a long time ago.”

“It all works out in the end.” He promises, smirking at you softly. The music plays and the two of you sway around the bar, getting comfortable with the closeness of your bodies pressed together.

“Suppose so.” It’s whole actual years of yearning on your part, but you’re not about to second guess this moment. Not by a long shot. Not when he fits even more perfectly against you than you’d dreamed. “Suppose it’s all about what happens next.”

“Yeah.” The songs slowly starts to fade out and he comes to a stop with you still in his arms. “So.” He murmurs, lifting a brow. “What do you want to happen next?”

“I believe…” You quirk your head at him and feel your cheeks heat up all over again. “A kiss was mentioned?”

“Yes it was.” He flashes you a roguish grin and leans on, nudging your nose with his. “So, sweetheart…dance with me.” He orders right before he presses his lips to yours.

______

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