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Fanfics: Small Mercies (Leland Coyle x Fem!Reader) | Mean (coyle x plus size!reader) | Caught (Coyle x mannequin/reader oneshot) | Stuck (The Warden x GN!Reader) | Cherry Waves (short Coyle oneshot)
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What do you think Coyle would be like as a father? Personally I think he'd be the type to force his kids to adhere to strict traditional gender roles. Maybe even use corporal discipline (aka physical abuse) if they acted out of line.
hmm...
If he wasn't married to the child's mother, I think he'd be completely absent. He's not helping to support that kid and he's definitely not claiming it.
If he was married to the child's mother, I think I agree with what you said. Coyle would run a strict program, period.
(my thoughts below the cut, warnings for mentions of abuse)
In my head, I think if it was a boy he'd be very "I'll give you somethin' to cry about," while also shouting about how "boys don't cry." As long as his son turned out to be what was expected of him (doing manual labor, being an athlete (football specifically), or some kind of cop/soldier) while marrying some pretty girl and having kids, I think he'd be publicly proud of them. Any deviation from those paths at all, it would be one of those situations where he does his best to get them back in line (no matter what it took). I think it would start with verbal and physical abuse towards mom "well, he's your son, you tell me why he's actin' like a fuckin' pansy," then he'd aim his anger at the kid once they're old enough to understand.
If it turned out to be a girl, he'd have so much love for her while she was little. That's Daddy's Girl™... but as she gets older, making decisions and having her own opinions, that flame fizzles out. The love he had would turn into a twisted sense of ownership and loathing. She isn't a person to him anymore. That's his daughter- his property. "She ain't dating 'til I'm dead," type shit, y'know? At the same time, he would despise her if she grew up to be anything other than your typical braindead housewife.
A/N: oneshot request for @king-of-devils - "coyle trying on fishnets and heels" ♥ hope this is good enough! :3 not edited super well, if you see any mistakes lmk!
Warnings: crossdressing, internalized homophobia, pre-murkoff!Coyle, slight nsfw but nothing too explicit
Leland Coyle shows off his dirty little secret.
Leland could hear the grandfather clock ticking downstairs, each second a reminder that he was on borrowed time. His wife had just left for the grocery store in town. She pulled out of the driveway fifteen minutes ago, giving him just enough time for himself.
He locked the bedroom door and took a deep breath.
The closet smelled strongly of cedar as he opened the door. Leland pushed past his uniforms and suits, until his fingers found the box shoved behind a stack of shoes he never wore. It was just an ordinary photograph storage box, the corners soft and worn from being handled in secret.
He carried the box over to the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat, hands trembling as he lifted the lid.
Red satin gleamed up at him, sinfully bright. He'd bought the panties at a department store three towns over, claiming they were a gift for his wife. Beneath the panties, a pair of fishnet tights were folded, and underneath those was the star of the show.
Cherry red patent leather heels, exactly four inches tall.
Leland stripped quickly, tossing his clothes onto the bed. He stood there for a moment, listening for the sound of a car coming up the driveway.
He heard nothing but silence.
He picked up the panties first. The satin was cool and liquid-smooth against his fingertips. He stepped into them, pulling them up slowly, and the sensation made him exhale through his teeth. The fabric cradled him, soft and foreign against his cock. Leland couldn't help himself; he cupped the growing bulge and squeezed gently, feeling the heat of his arousal through the thin material.
"Christ," he breathed out.
Next came the fishnets.
He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered them in his hands. Finding the toe, he began working them up his legs carefully. By the time he reached his thighs, he was half-hard, straining against the satin.
Last were the heels. He buckled the thin straps, fumbling with the clasp for only a moment. When he stood up from the bed, his ankles threatened to give way. Four inches changed everything. His center of gravity shifted, his calves tightened, and he wobbled. His arms flailed desperately before he found his balance.
With incredible concentration, he sauntered over to the mirror.
The person looking back at him was a stranger. Red panties sat high on his hips, cutting sharp angles against his soft stomach. The satin pulled tight across his erection shamelessly. The fishnets transformed his thick, working man's legs into something shapely. And those cherry red heels did exactly what they were designed to do: they arched his feet, flexed his calves, and made his legs look endless.
Leland turned, just slightly. When he saw the curve of his ass wrapped in red satin, his mouth went dry.
He looked good… sexy even. It felt even better. His hand drifted down, pressing against the front of the panties. He was fully hard now, throbbing against the fabric, and the dual sensation of pressure and silk made his knees weak.
His reflection in the mirror showed a man with hollow eyes. A man who got hard wearing panties while his wife bought pork chops and green beans a few miles away.
Leland looked away, cheeks burning.
"Fuckin' pathetic nancy-boy," he hissed at himself.
But his hand didn't move. He stood there in the heels, fishnets digging into his waist, cock aching in red satin, and felt the crushing weight of shame.
How could something that felt this good make him feel so goddamn weak?
Summary: You have known Leland for a long, long time. Since you were neighbours, you kind of were stuck together. In this small town, you only had each other. After your father’s death, you are forced to leave and move in with your aunt.
Years later, you return to Blackwell with your husband and children. It wasn’t too surprising to have your husband and Leland work together, since both are police officers, but you are surprised to see that his affection for you has never faded.
Tags: Canon Divergence. Pre-Murkoff Era. Reader has children and a husband. Stalking. Canon Typical Warnings Apply (Violence, Content). Coyle is Coyle. Starting bloom romance that seems one sided but isn’t.
———
For years now, you have been plagued by the same symbolism in your dreams. It started when you left Blackwell, and it hasn’t left you yet. Even though over 10 years have passed, Leland’s grip on your psyche has not faltered for even a second.
Whenever you have a new achievement in life, be it graduation from high school, getting married, or birthing your children, you always relive it in your dreams. Only, that there is a familiar hand attached to you during these moments.
The first few times, it used to bleed. The amputated hand gripped your wrist, just like Leland did, and blood poured out in frightening amounts. The more you dreamt, the more the bleeding stopped. Until, finally, it was simply mummified. Dead, lifeless, but it never let go.
This time, it held you close as you packed the last of your things to finally move out of this house, away from this wretched city. You hate to admit that Leland was right; there truly was nothing good about these big, western cities.
Just as you finished packing the final cardboard box, you heard something. It came from the hallway. Carefully, you got up. The hand glued to your wrist squeezed, sure to leave bruises. You walked into the dark hallway. You could hear breathing; someone was here.
Your fingers searched for the light switch across the wall, trying to find out who was hiding, when you heard laughing. It seemed awfully familiar. You were tackled from behind and pushed to the floor.
It was Leland, but you couldn’t see his face. It was black, a void of something that was once there. You could only make out tobacco-stained teeth. You struggled against his weight, and you were able to punch him. It just made him laugh harder.
“Back? You’re comin’ back? For me, right?” His voice was distorted, making you whimper.
“Leland—” You pushed against his chest, which had no effect. Blood started to pool in his shirt, staining the fabric a wine red. The scar you gave him has opened up.
He was above you, and the blood started to flow, much like a waterfall. The blood rushed towards you, coating you in it. You felt sick. The smell of copper and death filled the dark hallway. You opened your mouth to scream, but the blood ended up running down your throat instead.
With a gasp, you woke up from your nap. You were lying on the couch, and the house was quiet. With your heart pounding, you looked around, confused. All the lights were on, and there was no one here. You pressed your palm into your clammy forehead and breathed through the reminder of your dream. You swear you could taste blood on your tongue.
You stretched your arms above your head and then finally got up. Your husband and children had already left yesterday. You were supposed to drive down there with them, but there were some problems at your place of work. The new girl you were training got sick, and you decided to stay a day longer so she could make up for it.
Now, you were going to have to drive down alone. You prefer that, honestly. It was calmer, better, and you could sit in silence. You like to get as much alone time as you can.
For the final time, you walked around the house, making sure nothing was left behind. Walking to the phone, you made a quick call to your husband to tell him that you would start driving now. As quickly as you could, you ended the call. Then, you grabbed your map and compass and got into your car. The drive was going to take a few hours.
It took you a good while to recognise the streets. It didn’t help that it was dark now. The stars were out, lighting up the way for you. You squinted your eyes at the street signs, and well, you could find your way to the burned-down house you once called home. Before your mind could catch up, you turned the car left and made your way to the farm.
You did a poor job at parking, but nobody should see it. All the lights in the neighbours’ houses were turned off, and what was once the Coyle farm looks abandoned. You got out of the car and slammed the door shut.
Wrapping your jacket tighter around your body, you walked up the stairs to the front door. To your surprise, the door was unlocked. You wonder how trashed the place will be, how many teens would make themselves at home to drink the weekend away.
Taking in a deep breath, you opened the door and walked inside. Everything looked…okay? As okay as a burned-down house could be. The ground floor has been mostly spared from the flames, while the attic was completely gone, and the first floor took heavy damage. The stairs had already crumbled, and so you couldn’t get up even if you wanted to.
Looking up, you could see the night sky through what was left of the roof. The air smelled stale and damp; mold was surely growing everywhere. You let your hands glide over the walls. The wallpaper was peeling, and you could hear the floor boards creek under your weight.
After your father’s funeral, you weren’t allowed to go back to gather your things. It’d be too risky, and your aunt never liked the countryside. The foundation was weak; you could feel it with every step. How the whole thing hasn’t crumbled yet is beyond you.
You looked around, snooping through your own home. You do own the deed, all in your name. Even though now you think it might belong more to your husband than you. But he wouldn’t fight with you over it, you were sure. After all, it was part of your agreement.
All of your private belongings were gone. The picture books were not there, and when you stepped into the kitchen, your favourite mug had simply vanished. All traces of you living here have practically disappeared. The things that belonged to your father were still there, coated in a thick layer of dust and mold spores.
A light flashed across the windows, making you snap your head around. A car approached the house. When you stepped towards the window, peeking outside, you saw that it was a police car. You wonder if someone saw you enter the house and called the police on you for trespassing.
You backed away from the window and decided to continue looking for any sign of the girl who lived here. With a sigh, you opened the cupboard, looked through the shelves and came up empty-handed. You scratched your head as you heard the front door creak open.
“I will give yer sorry ass 3 seconds to vacate this here private property.” Came a gruff, masculine voice.
You stepped into the doorframe of the living room, looking straight at the police officer. You squinted your eyes at the guy who was wearing sunglasses at night, before recognition hit you. “Vacate my own property? How rude.” Of course, only an asshole like Leland would wear sunglasses indoors, at night.
Leland pushed his glasses up, pure confusion painted on his handsome face. “You are not real.” Then, anger flashes across his face. “Bitch who is stuck in my damn head.”
You wish you weren’t real. That would mean you could cease to exist and just be nothing. That isn’t a fate that was chosen for you. You looked Leland up and down. His body language was defensive. “Are you okay?”
His steps were heavy as he closed in on you. “I’ll be fuckin’ a-okay-o when I slap this illusion away—” Leland stood in front of you, and roughly grasped your jacket into his hands. His grey eyes widened in shock at the fact that he was actually touching you. You could see his face flush from embarrassment.
You pointed towards where a framed picture of your mother stood, completely unbothered by how close he was to you. His breath brushed over your face, and you could smell the cigarette he must’ve smoked on his way here. “Did you take my stuff?”
His unblinking eyes just stared at you. Leland bit down on his lower lip, and he finally dropped the jacket he was clutching in his trembling hands. He reached out and grasped your face into them, squeezing your cheeks to make sure you were truly there.
“Sweetness, why wouldn'tcha tell me yer back in town?” He purred out, his pupils blown wide.
You sighed and lightly tapped his stubbly cheeks. “Focus, Lee. My things? Have you taken them?”
Leland dramatically rolled his eyes. “Hate that fuckin’ name, and ya know it. Yeah, I got your shit. Since when are you back?”
“I’ve been here, like, 10 minutes.” You guess. Maybe less, maybe more. It is hard to tell.
“Are you still sick?” Leland mused at you, making your brows furrow. “Or did that ring safe you?” He nodded towards your wedding ring.
You opened your mouth to question just what he was talking about, when his hands suddenly wrapped around your throat. His fingers squeezed your pulse point, making you gasp for air. Panic swelled up in your chest as you felt your body jerk against your will. Your knee was pulled up by your thigh, ready to strike Leland, but you fought against your instincts.
Leland pressed your oxygen-deprived body against the wall, and you could see black spots dance in your vision. His face was starting to become blurry, and your eye-lids started to droop. With a disappointed sigh, Leland finally let go of you, as if you just failed his test.
Your hand automatically went to your neck, fingers pressing against the irritated skin. All you could do was greedily inhale the air as you blinked at Leland. “Still can’t finish the job?” And then you mouthed pussy at him.
Leland scowled at you, raising his hand in a mock hit towards you. “Don’t make me send yer pretty face all beat up back to your husband. Who is that clown anyway?”
“Some guy.” You just shrugged him off. Your eyes landed on Leland’s badge, proudly showing off how he is a sergeant now. “He is also a police officer.”
“What rank?”
“How am I supposed to know?” You were starting to get irritated now.
“What? He don’t talk to you?” Leland raised his eyebrow at you.
“He does, but why would I listen?” You made a vague motion with your hands, showing how your husband’s words go in one ear and leave through the other.
Leland threw his head back as he laughed. “He that borin’?”
“I would rather get choked out by you than listen to him.” You practically confess.
Leland’s smile stretched even wider. “We can arrange somethin’, baby.”
You roll your eyes at him. “What’s new with you? I don’t see a ring on your finger…”
“Wouldn’tcha like to know, sweetness?” His fingers reached out and fiddled with the button on your jacket. “If ya ask nicely, I will tell ya.”
You turned to the front door, “I have to get home—”
His hands landed on your shoulders, and he spun you back around. It is weird, in a way, he still looks the same, but he has grown into such a fine adult. Leland’s grey eyes were dotted with yellow spots that weren’t there before. It matches his mother’s eyes.
“Let me walk ya to yer car.” The words practically tumbled out of his mouth. “Where do you live now? Address, sweetheart.”
As you took a step towards the door, Leland wrapped his hand around your wrist. He really was walking you back to your car. “Uhm…It’s, like, that neighbourhood we used to call snobby. I have the address written down somewhere in my car.”
The air outside was cold, and you really regretted not wearing your gloves and hat. You shoved your free hand into your jacket pocket, while Leland kept his bruising grip on your other wrist. You fumbled for your keys in your pocket and unlocked your car.
“I will give you a real police escort home.”
“Please, don’t.” You frowned at Leland.
“What? I can’t hear you! Siren‘s too loud!” Leland raised his voice as he walked to his police car and did, in fact, turn on the blaring siren.
As quickly as you could, you got into your car and started the engine. You pulled into the main street and proceeded to hit the gas as hard as you could. The fun was short-lived, since Leland turned off the siren and lights once you got close to civilian houses. No need for you to make a bad impression on your new neighbours.
You were glad to finally pull into your driveway. Leland had the car parked a few houses away. He was simply watching. Part of you hoped you missed bedtime, that everyone was already asleep, and you could sneak home and pass out, but still a smile pulled on your face as the door opened and your two children spilt out.
“Mommy!”
“Mom!”
The two crashed into you, already dressed in their sleeping attire. Your arms wrapped around their smaller bodies, but they weren’t that little anymore, with both of them now reaching your collarbone.
“You will catch a cold! Get back inside, c’mon!” Despite your scolding, you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands ruffled through their hair, and your daughter glared at you. Her hair was put into neat braids she liked to sleep in, and you were currently messing up her work. Your son, on the other hand, soaked up all the attention he could get, leaning into your touch.
Your husband leaned against the doorframe with a smile. “We missed you so much.” His voice was warm, as always.
“Yes, yes, I missed you, too. Now get to bed. Are your teeth brushed?” You mentally went through the list of their bed routine. Even though your daughter was 12 now and very independent, you still liked to baby her. Your son was 10 and as rowdy as a boy can be. He reminded you of Leland when he was still little and had a shine in his now-dead eyes.
As you stepped into your new home, you couldn’t help but throw a glance over your shoulder. Leland’s car was still there, unmoving. You wondered what consequences would come from him knowing your address. But in this small town, you wouldn’t be able to hide for long from him. There were eyes and ears everywhere.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
It was your husband’s first day at work. You did what you were supposed to do: you woke him up, made him breakfast, packed his lunch, and told him to be safe as you sent him away with a goodbye kiss. Your children still had a day off before school started.
You did warn your husband about Leland. He knew about your childhood best friend—well, he knew what you wanted him to know—and you just hope Leland won’t make the poor guy suffer too much.
Your day went as it was supposed to go. Completely uneventful. You went grocery shopping, made the children unpack boxes and clean up, made sure their bags were packed for their new school, and stared into the garden, reminding yourself to breathe.
You watched as your daughter cheered on her brother, as he pressed the end of the broom to his forehead and proceeded to spin around like crazy. Those two are fighting or getting into some sort of trouble. Truly headache-inducing.
Aurelia counted the spins her brother did with a big smile on her face. Three! Four! Five—
The boy started to tumble. He didn’t stay on his feet for long, his hands and knees crashing into the recently cleaned wooden floor. They both were giggling as he tried to get back up, but failed.
You emerged from your hiding place and snatched the broom out of Aurelia’s hand. Both of them were quick to shut up. You looked around and saw that the living room was finally clean. “Are you both done with your chores?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Both of them answered as your son finally stood up on wobbly knees.
You let a moment of silence pass between you three, just to keep those rascals on their toes, and then you smiled at them. “You did well. Do you two want to hit up the dinner? Get some pancakes as a reward?”
Both of their face lit up in delight, and they were quick to get dressed. You drove through town and showed them different buildings, like the library and the school they will attend. They didn’t seem that excited, mostly missing the city. This place is sooo boring! They were quick to complain.
At least the dinner was somewhat exciting for them. Just as you were close to leaving the parking lot, you realised that you had forgotten your purse in the car. Of course, your wallet is in there. With a dramatic sigh, you turned back to the car. “You two can go inside already, pick a nice booth, yeah?” While your son entered the dinner, your daughter followed you back to the car and walked with you into the building.
The air was warm and cozy, warming you up from the cold outside air. It smelled like sugar and grease, and you already knew you were going to take something home with you. As your eyes looked around to search for your son, they landed on Leland. He sat by the bar, a cup in his hand. Ah, yes, protect and serve the community by sipping on coffee.
You saw your son crawl around the barstools, weaving in between patrons. He bumped into Leland’s leg, making the man scowl. “Who’s goddamn kid is that?!”
All these children do is embarrass you. “Leland!”
Leland turned to you, his eyebrows raised. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, and he pointed at himself in confusion.
You rolled your eyes. “Not you. The small one.” You nodded towards your son. “Don’t make me drag you outta there!”
With his head lowered, your son finally emerged. He looked guilty as hell. You stretched your hand out, not even bothering with saying anything. Lee, as you like to coo at him when he is not being evil, looks offended.
“I don’t have anything!” He whined out.
You just raised your eyebrow at him. Finally, and very reluctantly at that, Lee dropped a lighter into your hands. You inspected it and easily identified it as Leland’s. You gifted this to him years ago, for his birthday. It looked old and worn out, the engraving nearly hidden by scratches.
“Get out of my sight.” You glared at the boy, who finally sat down at a booth with his sister, who was currently shaking her head at him. If she had been involved in this, you might have never figured out he stole anything.
Leland was snickering into his cup of coffee, until you dropped the lighter down in front of him. That quickly wiped the grin off his smug face, and he put the lighter back into his pockets. “Stealin’ is a damn serious crime!” He threw a glare at your son, who was never bothered by the opinion of others.
“I am sorry about that.” You dragged a hand over your face. “He drives me crazy. Both do, actually.”
“Oh yeah? I can scare ‘em if you want me to. Put the boy in a cell for a night.” He was already back to smiling at the mental image.
“One? Make it two nights.” You smile at him. “I would like a weekend off.”
“Sweetheart, I will lock ‘em forever if you ask me to.” He was back to grinning while you rolled your eyes at him.
You laughed at that. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see a waitress hand your children a menu. She talked to them, and while you could not hear the conversation, when your daughter pointed you out to the woman, you knew what they were chatting about. Unsupervised children were the enemy of any service worker.
“I have to get back to the fiends.” You squeezed Leland’s arm as a gesture of goodbye, but he was still hot on your trail. His coffee cup in hand.
Leland slid into the seat right beside you, cutting off your exit. The window was on your right, and Leland on your left. Both of your children were preoccupied with their menus, but you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at your son.
His eyes widened when you took the menu away from him. “Hey!”
“Really? You think you are getting anything after stealing? Really?” People like to tell you how polite and nice your children are, but little do they know how much you have to scold them.
A high-pitched whine left Lee’s mouth, as his face turned red and tears gathered in his eyes. He put his face in his hands while he dramatically cried. You don’t get why he keeps trying; you have never caved to either of their tears.
You could feel the irritation roll off of Leland at the crying. All babies and children do is cry and be annoying in general. You cannot believe he wanted to get you pregnant; Leland would’ve drowned the baby in the bathtub.
“Cry quietly!” Aurelia at least could speak her mind. She put the menu down, swinging her legs. Finally, she decided to acknowledge the stranger at the table. Aurelia squinted her eyes at his badge, where his name was engraved. “Are you the Leland mom used to be friends with?”
Leland licked his lips, “That’s me. Your ma’ talk a lot ‘bout me, huh?” Under the table, Leland spread his legs. His knee bumped into yours.
Your daughter just shrugged her shoulders, her preteen age really showing through. “Sometimes.” She leaned outside the booth and tried to flag down a waitress.
Leland didn’t seem bothered by the dismissive attitude of your daughter. He turned to you, an annoying smile on his smug, satisfied face. You just turned to the window. Which wasn’t much of an escape, because his face was mirrored in the window.
“What can I get you?” Finally, a waitress arrived. She was young, so she did not recognise you. You were thankful for that; you were not in any mood to catch up with people.
You and your daughter told her your order, while your son dramatically sighed and pouted the whole time. Leland, however enaged in small talk. He has always been like that, chatty and friendly and absolutely charming. Only when he wanted to be, though.
The waitress giggled at some joke Leland made, brushing her hair behind her ears. “Well, how is the wife?”
Leland tensed up beside you. You thought that the knee which pressed against you would shy away, as the mention of his wife seemed to bother him, but he just pushed his body closer to yours. “Good.” It was clear that his mood was ruined, and the waitress was quick to hurry away.
You didn’t bother asking, because Leland only ever talks about things he wants to. There is no use in forcing him to open up and share emotions; he would just laugh in your face on a good day and punch you in the stomach on a normal day.
Lee finally emerged from his self-made cocoon, wiping the tears from his face. “Can we get a dog?”
Aurelia’s face lit up. “Yes! Please, mom?”
Now it was your turn to hide your face in your hands. “No. Let’s all sit in silence till the food comes.”
Leland chuckled while your children continued to whine for a dog. They did finally shut up when the food arrived, with Lee getting back to weeping over how unfair and cruel you were. Aurelia ended up joining him because she kept eating her food and moaning into her brother’s ear obnoxiously.
You snatched the plate away from her and just ended up sliding it towards Leland. “Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leland didn’t hesitate to eat your daughter’s waffles, to her horror. “Your ma’ runs a strict program, huh?”
“She’s the worst!” Lee wailed.
Your daughter was slumped in her seat. “Why do you hate us, mommy?” She really laid it on thick.
“Because you are annoying.” You glared at them both.
Aurelia gasped, “You’re hurting me—hurting us!” She gestured between herself and her brother.
“I don’t care.” You looked around for the waitress; you just wanted to pay and get home and never leave the house with those two again. Under your breath, you whispered, “Can’t take ‘em anywhere.”
Leland seemed amused by your suffering, finding delight in the delinquents you were raising. His hand dropped from the table, landing on your knee. You kept your face and body calm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him a reaction, be it positive or negative.
Finally, the waitress came with your cheque and to your surprise, Leland just put everything on his tab.
“Let me pay you back—” Your hand was already in your purse as you all walked to the parking lot. Your children decided to race to the car; whoever is the fastest wins and can sit at the front. “Be careful!” You yelled after them as they started to run. They were lucky no car pulled out.
“Put that wallet down, woman.” Leland glared at you through the brim of his glasses. “ ‘Is a welcome back present.”
You felt yourself slump in defeat. “You sure?”
“Very.” He grunted out. “Would hurt mah ego if I let a woman pay. My sweet ma’ raised me better, ya should know that.”
You nearly laughed at the sweet part, but you were able to catch yourself when you realised Leland was being serious. Oh, dear. You guess you respect whatever he needs to do to cope. You personally cannot leave your daughter home alone with only her father, which has caused some tense conflicts.
“You still have my stuff!” You suddenly remembered.
“Sure do, sweetness. You should drop by, I ain’t a storage place.” He playfully wagged his finger towards you, while you hummed in agreement.
“I will. Where do you live now anyway? With the wife and all.” You teased him with the last part.
Leland rolled his eyes as you both arrived at the car. You unlocked the door with your keys, and your children scrambled in. Your daughter sat at the front, because she won the race. Lee was back to pouting in the back seat.
“Marriage is a fuckin’ scam.” Leland scratched his stubbly chin.
“How come?” Now you were curious. Marriage was…okay in your eyes.
“I can jerk myself off jus’ fine. Don’t need a naggin’ bitch in the house for that.” His hands fumbled around his pants pockets till he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “We live a few blocks down. Grey house.”
You nodded your head in fake sympathy. “You can always just get a divorce?”
A sick smile pulled on his lips, “An alpine divorce is juuuuuus’ mah thing, sweetheart.” He leaned against your car while lighting the cigarette with the old lighter. “ ‘Course, I would neva do that to you.”
Whatever the hell that means. The car door opened, and your daughter called out to you. “Mom! Can you hurry?!”
“Ugh! I am coming!” You snapped back at her, and she just slammed the door shut. With a sigh, you turned to Leland, who looked amused as always. “I have to go. Stay safe.” Leland bid you goodbye as you got into the car and drove home.
Through out your drive you could not help but feel watched. Like something was following after you. When you looked into the mirror, you could not see any familiar cars coming after you. The feeling never left you.
Later that evening, while your children were already in bed and your husband finally got home from his shift, you served him his food. You already ate, so you sat at the table with a cup of tea.
“Do you know what an alpine divorce is?” You asked him. You genuinely didn’t know.
Adam just blinked, the fork halted mid-air. He swallowed down what he was chewing on and wiped sauce from his face. “…Is this your cruel way of telling me the food is poisoned?”
Your eyes widened in horror. “No!”
“Ah, well, food is good enough for me not to care. It’s when you kill your spouse instead of a normal divorce. Did you make dessert?” He went back to eating.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
Your husband was on a night shift, while your children were in bed. You were currently in the bedroom, rubbing lotion onto your skin. Something was stalking around the backyard. You could feel it in your bones, the feeling of being watched. The curtains were drawn shut, but the horrible feeling of eyes on you never left.
The sound of something hitting glass made you stop and wait.
Another soft thunk hit the window and made you furrow your brows. Your children have been in school now for a week, making friends easily. Maybe a boy had a crush on your daughter and was trying to reach her? The thought pissed you off, she was so little! How dare he.
You walked to the window and pulled it open. When you stuck your head out, you saw a grown man. For a moment, you panicked before you realised it was just Leland who was throwing pebbles against your window. He made wild gestures for you to come down, and with a sigh, you obliged.
On your way to the garden, you put on a pair of fuzzy socks, your winter jacket, boots and a hat. When you stepped outside, you were fully bundled up.
“What is wrong with you?” You wondered out loud.
Leland just grinned. “Nothin’ wrong with me! Have some respect, will ya?”
“What will the neighbours think?” You couldn’t help but hiss at him.
“It’s dark out, and I came on foot.” He stepped closer to you, his hands resting on your shoulders. His breath fanned over your face, and you could smell the moonshine on his tongue. “Let’s have some fun, like old times.”
“I don’t want to do anything that requires lying down.” You narrowed your eyes at him.
Leland grinned happily. “We can do it standin’ up if you are into that.” He leaned towards you, but you simply avoided his sluggish movements. Leland’s face crashed into your neck, and he just decided to stay there.
With a sigh, you burrowed your hands into Leland’s hair. He hummed in delight. “You wanna sit down?”
His hands were on your hips, rubbing circles into your jacket. “Fuck no.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “How much you drank?”
“Nuffin’. Sober as a bull.” Leland mumbled into your skin.
“You smell like a distillery.” You might become drunk simply by smelling the guy.
“They fuckin’ lied to me.”
“Who?”
“The cucks on the radio told me it’ll storm. Where is my storm? Huh? Where is my heavenly lightin’?”
“You poor thing.” Your tone was meant to be condescending, but Leland enjoyed it.
“Yeah, yeah, poor me. C’mon, hold me closer. Pull my hair.” Leland wrapped his hands around your wrists, forcing your hands closer into his scalp.
“Calm down—” You ended up shoving him away. It was starting to feel suffocating.
Leland stumbled back a few steps. The alcohol sure made him more malleable. When he drinks, he either gets angry or soft. The softness usually wouldn't last long, quickly replaced by rage fueled by memories.
He pointed a finger at you, his eyes burning with fury. “Stuck bein’ a stuck up bitch and start suckin’ my cock!”
“No.” You were starting to get irritated now. “Stop yelling.”
The feeling of being watched hasn’t stopped. Something was in the bushes. You were so sure. When you looked around, you didn’t see anything out of place.
“No? Well, then I’ll leave.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Okay.” You just shrugged your shoulders.
“..Why don’t you care about me leavin’? What kinda friend are you?” He seemed genuinely offended.
“The bad kind.” You rubbed your neck, trying to keep yourself calm. Leland nodded in agreement at your words, his head bobbing up and down. “You leaving now?”
Leland scoffed. “No. Let’s sit.” He turned around widely, before finally sitting down on the garden chair, placed around a table.
You sat down beside him. Leland rested his head on the table he was staring up at the stars in the sky. His pupils were blown wide; you could barely see the grey peek through. Leland’s eyes landed on you, and he smiled.
“You look pretty.” He slurred his words.
You frowned at the compliment. Pretty isn’t how you would describe yourself. You have grown old, gained some baby weight that refuses to go away no matter which diet you try, and you just feel tired most of the time.
“Maybe you need glasses. That’s why you wear sunglasses all the time?” You smiled at your old friend.
Leland scoffed. “Mah eyes are jus’ fine. Don’t act all humble, you have always been a pretty girl. Turned into a sexy woman.” His hands reached out to flip your nightgown up, but you slapped his hand away.
Just as you were about to say something in return, you heard a stick snap in the distance. Your head whirled around, looking towards the source of the sound. “Do you feel watched?” You whispered under your breath.
Leland raised his head from the table to look around. In the end, he just dropped his head back down on the table. “Yer bein’ paranoid. Nuffin’ out there except squirrels ‘n under fucked husbands.”
“Marriage ain’t for everyone.” You wrapped your jacket around your body, and the cold was starting to nip at your skin.
“There is a pot for every kettle.” Leland countered.
“Hm. You should go home.” You stood up, making your way back inside. Leland was right behind you, his palm pressed into your lower back. “Your own home.”
“I am gonna force my way inside, sweetheart. Make myself right at home.” Leland threatened you.
“I will—”
“What? Call the police? C’mon, sweetness, you are smarter than that.” Leland leaned in, his nose brushing against your own.
“Never speak to you again.”
That did make Leland frown. “Hate that silent treatment shit.”
“Go home, Leland. I am sure your wife misses you.” You went into your house, finally able to settle down for the night.
“Fuck both of y’all.” He cursed at you, turning away. You watched as he climbed over the fence and failed. He landed on his ass and ended up splayed out on the ground.
You wondered if you should call the police, but Leland got up again, and this time, he was able to haul his ass over the fence. You don’t even get why he would cut through the neighbours’ backyard, because they have a vicious dog.
And that is the dog barking, and Leland yelping. You scratched your head and made sure all the doors and windows were locked before you went to bed.
When you clean the windows the next day, you can see fingerprints on the glass in your window. You just had to take the house that had only a ground floor.
A/N: at the end of locksock the warden :3c not edited well, let me know if there are any mistakes. dividers by me ❤️
Warnings: dubious consent, no use of y/n, blowjobs, restraints, porn without plot, daddy kink, coyle makes a small appearance
Archive of Our Own Link
You come across the Warden and give him what he deserves.
This trial was supposed to end with blood. You knew that.
You stood in the doorway of the Warden's office, watching the Warden himself struggle against the restraints holding him to the table. The metal of his headgear glinted in the low light as he shifted his head.
"Daddy…" he whimpered, voice muffled by the mask, "Coyle, please!"
His voice cracked. You stepped closer and watched as he strained to lift his head. You knew he couldn't see you. The burlap of the mask made sure of that, but he could still hear, and he froze as your shoe scuffed the carpet.
"Who's there?!" he thrashed, making the table creak, "Daddy? Is that you?"
You said nothing, letting him beg for a few minutes longer. It was pathetic, really. The way he arched his spine trying to present himself while his voice went high and desperate.
"I've been good. I did what you asked. Please come get me," the Warden keened.
You dropped the brick you were holding to the ground. The heavy thunk was enough to make the Warden flinch, rattling the table.
"Don't- don't hurt me, please," he whispered, "I listened. Please–"
"I'm not going to hurt you," you said calmly.
Your voice was soft. You hadn't meant to speak, but the words fell out anyway.
"You're not… Coyle."
"No," you walked around to the back side of the table, looking down at where the headgear was rubbing the skin over his collarbones raw, "I'm not."
You reached out. Your fingertips brushed his stomach first, just above the navel, careful to avoid the stitched incision. The Warden gasped, jumping under your touch.
"Please–"
"Shh, it's okay," you cut him off, shushing him, "I said I wasn't going to hurt you."
You kept your hand on his skin and lightly traced upward. Your fingers followed the ridge of his stomach, up to the valley of his sternum, all the way up to where the mask bit into his skin. You could feel the heat of fear and adrenaline oozing out of him.
When you touched the skin at his collarbones, he winced.
"No! That hurts," he cried.
"I know. I'm sorry."
You trailed back down slowly. Your palm flattened against his stomach, feeling the frantic rise and fall of his breathing, then drifted lower. Your hand skimmed the edge of his stomach down to his thigh, hesitating.
He was clearly half-hard. His lack of clothing left nothing to the imagination. You brushed your knuckles against the shaft, making his cock twitch.
When was the last time someone touched him so gently?
The question hung in your mind. You didn't ask because you didn't need an answer. You already knew. In this place, gentleness was unheard of.
You told him your name, and again, reassured him that you weren't going to hurt him.
The Warden stilled. His breathing slowed, still shuddering but steadying. Finally, he stopped thrashing against the cuffs. You could practically see the calculation happening under the mask; he was assessing the threat of you while holding on desperately to hope and ingrained obedience.
"Please," he pleaded softly, "Uncuff me. I need to get back to Daddy. He'll be angry if I'm gone too long."
You hummed, considering his request. Your fingers, still holding steady on his thigh, stroked idle patterns on his skin.
"I could do that. I'd like to do that for you," you sighed, "but first, I wanna talk to you for a bit."
"Talk?" he sounded confused.
"Mhm. Just talk."
He hesitated, then nodded, the motion constrained by the headgear, "Okay. Okay, but quickly, please. Before someone else comes."
Before you spoke, you wrapped your hand around his cock. He jolted like you had taken Coyle's cattle prod and stuck it to him. His hips snapped upward, a muffled groan tearing from his throat.
"Wait," he gasped, trying to squirm away, "Wait, wait, wait- Daddy says I'm not allowed to–"
"Hey, shhh," you squeezed, feeling him thicken in your palm. He was warm, heavy, and leaking already, "your Daddy isn't here."
You started to stroke him, slow and dry. The friction of skin on skin was only broken by the occasional bead of precum that would slick your palm for a moment. It wasn't perfect, but his head dropped back against the table and he huffed.
"It's not fair," you murmured, "Is it? He gets to use you. Gets to hurt you and make you beg."
He whimpered.
"And you? You get nothing, huh?"
"Ple-ease," he moaned. You couldn't tell anymore if he was begging you to stop or continue, even if he was rolling his hips to meet your hand, "We'll get caught. He'll catch us and he'll– oh–"
"Does Coyle touch you like this?" you asked, tightening your grip, "Does he ever make his little fuckpig feel good?"
The Warden shook his head frantically, "N-no. Never. He says I'm not– not for that. I'm for– oh God…"
"You're for his pleasure, right?"
He nodded, "uh-huh."
Your voice dropped low, "Well, good thing this isn't about him. It's about you."
Fully hard now, you kept stroking his cock; whispering filth about how good he looked like this, how desperate he was, and how much you wanted to see him come apart for you.
And suddenly, you thought of something even better.
"Hold on," you said, removing your hand.
The Warden whimpered at the loss, hips raising to chase your touch. You climbed onto the desk, straddling his calves. One of your hands pressed against his stomach to hold it up, the other braced on his thigh. You leaned down and licked a wet stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.
"Mmph," he grunted from the other end of the desk.
You winced at the taste of him. Sour sweat danced across your tongue, but you didn't stop. You took his cock fully into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, and you gagged.
"Oh," he sobbed, legs shaking against their restraints, "that feels so– uh– good."
Your throat convulsed around him, and he bucked upward as much as the cuffs around his ankles allowed. You pulled back, sucked in air, then went down again. And again. Finding a messy rhythm, the wetness of your mouth on him became the only sound in the room besides his desperate grunts and pants.
You could feel him getting close. His thigh tensed under your hand as his cock swelled and pulsed under your tongue. He sighed, whining like an animal in distress.
"Stop!" the Warden groaned, "Stop. I think– wait, please, I don't want to get in trouble.
Gently, you shook your head. The motion drew a rumble from somewhere deep in his chest at the shift in pressure while you hummed a denial around him, "uh-uh."
Then, you went all the way down again, gagging hard. Your throat squeezed his cock as tears pricked at your eyes.
That was all it took. His legs shook violently, heels digging into the desk. He came with a strangled moan, coating your tongue and the back of your throat with bitter cum. You swallowed as best you could. Your eyes were watering, but you didn't pull off until he was trembling and whimpering from oversensitivity.
Slowly, you began pulling off of him, when the office doors slammed open. Your eyes snapped over to the doorway.
Leland Coyle stood there, silhouetted by the hall lights with his cattle prod sparking in hand.
"What in THE HELL," he roared, "are you doin' to my Warden?"
Immediately, the Warden cried out, "Coyle… Daddy! Help me. They made me–"
You rolled your eyes, hand already flying to your stun rig. Coyle charged forward, prod raised, but you were faster. The stun hit him square in the chest.
You didn't wait around for it to wear off. Hopping off the desk, your adrenaline injector was already in your hand, needle sliding into your other arm.
Behind you, the Warden's voice echoed as you ran through the doors, but you didn't bother looking back.
Since you’re taking requests: Mannequin voyeurism, walking in on him, or maybe him walking in 👀
Caught ⚡︎ Leland Coyle x Fem!Reader ⚡︎ 700 words
A/N: super short oneshot :3 i hope this is kinda what you meant, anon! dividers by @pixopix (p.s. requests for short Coyle HCs and oneshots are open ♥)
Warnings: Voyeurism, female reader insert, masturbation, no use of y/n
Archive of Our Own Link
After everything you've heard about Coyle, you knew it was only a matter of a time before someone caught him with his pants down.
Florescent lights buzzed over as you slipped through the classroom door. The trial had already begun, you just needed to unlock the gate to gather the two other keys.
The classroom descended in tiers of stadium style seating all facing a chalkboard and projector screen. On that screen, was a film showcasing Leland Coyle and all of his "greatness".
At the bottom of the steps, casting a cop-shaped shadow on the screen with his upper body, was Coyle.
On a filing cabinet beside the desk rested the naked torso of a female mannequin. Makeup was painted across her face as she laid there, propped up on a small, round pillow.
Coyle was hunched over her, his uniform pants undone with one hand braced against the filing cabinet, the other holding tight to the mannequins shoulder. He was sliding his cock between those fake breasts, snapping his hips desperately.
You choked on a breath as you watched, crouching down to hide behind one of the seats.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he grunted, "Knew you would. Just knew you'd be beggin' for it. Such a pretty little thing, layin' there, waitin' for Daddy."
He took a drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, exhaling through gritted teeth as he thrust harder.
"So fuckin' good."
Your thighs clenched.
"So goddamn good. You want it, don't ya? Want me to cum all over these tits?" he muttered.
You should have been doing the trial, but somehow you found yourself on your knees with your hand in your pants.
You were peeking over the edge of the seat back, watching this monster of a man rut against this mannequin like it would start talking back to him at any moment. Your fingers found your clit, rubbing yourself just as desperately as he was thrusting.
"Gonna," Coyle groaned, spitting the cigarette butt from his mouth and speeding up his rhythm, "Gonna– fuck– gonna–"
His whole body seized as he threw his head back, letting out a guttural sound. You were transfixed on him as rope after rope of cum shot across the mannequin's chest and splattered against its red lips. When he stopped panting, his head snapped forward.
You froze, heart sinking into your stomach.
"You!" Coyle shouted, the good side of his face turning red as he struggled to shove himself back into his pants.
You fell backwards right onto your ass, yanking your hand from your pants.
"Damn peepin' Tom! Fuckin' perverted fink!" his voice echoed off the walls as he grabbed his cattle prod off the desk.
You scrambled to your feet and ran. Barging through the doors, you climbed the stairs to the hallway leading to the shuttle bay. You shoved past the ex-pop talking to the wall.
The lockers. You just needed to get to the lockers.
You made it to the shuttle area and threw yourself into the locker furthest from the hall. Just as you pulled the door shut, heavy boots rounded the corner.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each locker door slammed open in succession, getting closer and closer to yours. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your chest.
The door next to yours crashed open and then slammed shut again.
"Ain't shit…" Coyle snarled.
He retreated slowly, back down the hall. You waited until the sound faded, holding your breath until your lungs burned.
Fuck it.
Your hand flew back into your pants. You were still wet and aching. The adrenaline made everything feel so much more intense. You bit your lip, fingers working fast and chasing that release you had been denied.
You were so, so close.
The locker door ripped open.
Coyle filled the frame, cattle prod in one hand and a smirk twisting his lips. He looked you up and down exaggeratedly: your flushed face, the hand buried between your thighs, and your wide eyes.
"Makin' me play hide and seek, Honey?"
"N-no-" you stuttered, shaking your head.
"Gettin' yourself off all alone in here?" he tsk'd, leaning in closer, "Now that's just plain rude, Sweetness. You coulda invited ol' Leland. Hurts my feelin's, you know that?"
we know coyle likes dogboys.... but consider... hcs for coyle with a bunny boy?
Leland Coyle x Bunny!Reader (gender neutral) NSFW Headcanons Ი︵𐑼 270 words
"Rabbit on me, I'll fuck you to death!"
Oh, Coyle would love having a little bunny around to play with.
Warnings: Coyle-typical threats/violence, implied dub/non-con. divider by /sisterlucifergaphics ♥
-He'd find it so amusing that you can't hide your arousal when he's petting your ears. Stroking them while he's got you in his lap or handcuffed and helpless, just watching your tail tremble and your nose twitch.
-We all know Coyle is violent, but what scares you the most is when he's not. His gentleness always comes with a price; like when he cups your cheek and strokes your ears so softly your eyes water, only to suddenly grip your jaw and remind you how easily he could snap your neck. He just loves the confused whimpers you make and the way your nose twitches faster when you can't tell if he's going to hurt you or tease you.
-I think Coyle would be obsessed with your fluffy tail. He'd use it as a handle for sure, yanking on it when you try to crawl away from him or when he has you bent over something, fucking into you.
-Coyle can tell when you're genuinely terrified vs just being nervous around him (and we all know he prefers the terror). He would whisper to you about "bad little rabbits" who get caught by cops and how easy it would be to make you disappear, all while his hand is between your legs. The way that you shake, your twitching nose, your flattened ears, and the pitiful whines spilling from your lips are all evidence of his power over you. It makes him insatiable.
fuck itttt I need to get my creative juices flowing.
Can y'all please send in some simple sfw/nsfw Coyle requests/ideas? For like HCs or short oneshots. 🙏🏼 I need some more practice writing him to help me finish this WIP I'm working on 😩
Y'all looking for a discord community of likeminded outlast trials fans? Join us in: Coyle's Pistachio Farm!
Click this link to join!
@arch-b1sh0p and I have created a Coyle-centric outlast trials server that we wanted to share with everyone! There are spaces to talk about your fav characters, share your art & fanfics, and make friends to play with. It is 18+ only . ♥
